All language subtitles for The Giant Claw (1957).en

Once, the world was big...

and no man in his
lifetime could circle it.

Through the centuries,
science has made

man's lifetime bigger
and the world smaller.

Now the farthest
corner of the Earth...

is as close as a pushbutton.

And time has lost all meaning

as manmade devices speed many,
many times faster than sound itself.

Here, near the top of the world,
free men struggle with the elements

to create some measure of defense
to protect that self-same freedom.

Distant Early Warning radar,

sensitive electronic devices to detect
the presence of objects in the sky,

including bombing
planes and guided missiles

and rain clouds
and homing pigeons.

New radar installations must be calibrated
by the flying of controlled test flights

to check the accuracy of the equipment and
to chart a detection profile of the area

in order to pinpoint blind spots
the radar cannot penetrate.

Bravo 8035. Angels 9.

Bravo 7540. Angels 9.

Bravo 7045. Angels 9.

Test Flight. Test Flight. This is
Snowman Three. Give me a reading. Over.

Snowman Three,
this is Test Flight.

Flying vector, 340 degrees
from IP. Angels 10. Speed, 400.

How do you read me? Over.

Everything checks but the altitude,
Mitch. We read you at Angels 9.

Altimeter reads
10,000 on the nose.

Better check the level
on the antenna mount.

Roger.

How about Mademoiselle
Mathematician?

She got enough numbers to
feed into her machines yet?

Do you have all the information
you need, Miss Caldwell?

One more run, please.
Low level coming in.

One more, Mitch.
Vector 105 degrees, low.

Roger. Turning 180
degrees, low approach.

This is Test Flight,
over and out.

I didn't know pilots were
allowed to do things like that.

Not Air Force pilots, you're right.
But Mitch is an electronics engineer.

He may work for the government, but,
ma'am, he kinda makes his own rules.

So does a three-year-old child
until his mother spanks him.

- Mother, dear mother, I'm ready if you are.
- I must have left the switch on.

An electronics
engineer. A radar officer.

A mathematician and systems analyst.
A radar operator. A couple of plotters.

People doing a job, well, efficiently.
Serious, having fun. Doing a job.

Situation, normal
for the moment.

Date, the 17th of the month. Sky
cloudy, overcast. Visibility limited.

Time, 1332 hours. A
significant moment in history.

A moment when an electronics
engineer named Mitchell MacAfee

saw something in the sky.

Something that was almost the
beginning of the end of life on this Earth.

MacAfee reported instantly
by radio the sighting of a UFO,

an unidentified flying object.

The radar officer replied
that it was impossible.

According to the radar
scope, except for Mitch's plane,

there wasn't a single, solitary
object of any nature whatsoever.

Nothing in the sky for a
radius of hundreds of miles.

MacAfee didn't care what the
radar showed or didn't show.

He knew what he
saw with his own eyes.

And he was determined
to get a better look.

MacAfee turned, and so did the unidentified
flying object heading toward him.

There was no mistaking the
urgency in MacAfee's voice.

Something, he didn't know what,

but something as big as a battleship
had just flown over and past him

at speeds so great he
couldn't begin to estimate it.

In national defense, it's
better to be safe than sorry.

The alert was sounded
to scramble interceptors.

- Well?
- Well, what?

Now, let's not play games,
Major. Did your men find it?

Mr. MacAfee, if you were in
uniform, I'd have you under arrest

and facing general court martial
charges. Unfortunately, you're a civilian.

- And I can't touch you.
- What are you talking about?

But I can send in a
report in on you and I will.

By the time I get through with
you, Mr. Electronics Engineer,

you'll be lucky if they let you
test batteries for flashlights.

Look, Major Bergen, I was
flying a final calibration flight.

I spotted a UFO, I reported it.
Does that make me a criminal,

a traitor to my country, or
some kind of a psychopath?

MacAfee, you're an electronics
man, an expert on radar.

- Sure, that's what they pay me for.
- lf there was something in the air,

something flying that you
could see, would radar pick it up?

- Well, yes, but...
- Would radar pick it up? Yes or no?

- Yes.
- There were three radars on you.

Every minute you were in the air and not
one of them, not one, saw anything but you.

- Look, Major...
- You were told this. You knew it.

Nevertheless, you
persisted with your little joke.

- Easy now, Bergen.
- You continued to yell wolf

until somebody pushed the panic button
and scrambled a flight of interceptors.

Great. Great. So your buzz boys
flew around, they couldn't find anything,

so now you're mad and want me
to pay for the fuel they burned up

or the time they wasted or
something else real smart.

The flight was scrambled and dispersed
to cover as wide an area as possible.

And thanks to your not-so-funny
false alarm, Mr. MacAfee,

one of those planes
didn't come back.

Plane and pilot,
both are missing.

Major Bergen. What?

Yes. Yeah. Yes. Call
out the stand-by crews.

You better reshuffle your duty rosters.
There'll be plenty of sweat on this one.

Look, Major, I'm sorry about the
pilot, but that was no false alarm.

Oh, come off it, Mitch. You've done
enough harm with your flying battleship.

- Just let it...
- Just a moment, Miss Caldwell.

That call. A Transpolar Airlines
plane is reported overdue and missing.

- Oh, no!
- Sixty passengers and a full crew aboard.

Got a distress call from the pilot,
then nothing. No more contact.

- Engine trouble?
- No.

The pilot yelled something about
a UFO. Then the radio went dead.

And our radars? - Nothing. Nothing but
the Transpolar plane.

Alone in the sky.

Well, we're finished
up here, Major.

- You got transportation ready?
- Plane and pilot in the field.

- Fly you straight through to New York.
- Thanks. Let's go, Sally.

Hang on. I'll be
back in a minute.

Hi, Pete. Getting too
rough to work back there.

I thought the poop on the weather was we'd
have it soft all the way into New York.

- Seems to be a local front, Mitch.
- How about flying over it?

Can do. Wait till I call in.

This is Air Force Zebra Love 7979 calling
New York lnternational Airport. Over.

Zebra Love 7979. This is New
York International Airport. Over.

Altitude 8,000, air speed 250.

Meeting unexpected storm
activity, Adirondack region.

Request permission to
change altitude to 12,000. Over.

Zebra Love 7979.
Permission granted. Over.

Zebra Love 7979. Roger. Out.

- Like I said, no sweat.
- Thanks, Pete.

I'll put in a good word
for you with the Major.

Oh, thanks loads.

Well, I won't know until I
run it through the computer,

but it looks like the profiler that dips
here like this for an extensive blind spot.

Yeah.

Well, either that
antenna is really tilted

or we've got a topographical
high spot here we didn't figure on

that's shading the whole strip.

- Could you get that relief map?
- Oh, yes. Right here.

Mitch. Mitch. Come up here!

- What gives?
- Sit down, Mitch.

- Well?
- Something might be coming up.

- Such as what?
- Unidentified flying object.

- Flew right over us.
- Not you, too.

Oh, save the cracks. I've
already called it in to lnternational.

Mitch, I sure enough saw
something like a cloud.

Only it was moving too fast for any
cloud. Right at our course from northeast.

Two bits it never showed
up on a single radar scope.

- What?
- Never mind. I don't see anything but sky.

Neither do l, now. I lost it
when it got right overhead.

Where'd that come from? We
don't register a hatful of wind.

Brother, that was
more than a hatful.

- Are you all right?
- I think so. How about you?

I'm okay. Pete's in
bad shape. Let's go.

Down! It's going to blow up.

What happened? It felt like
something collided with us up there.

Yeah. The flying
battleship that wasn't there.

- Hello! Hello!
- Here. Over here.

It's good applejack. I make it
myself. Fine for the snakebite.

Hello, Pierre. Mr. MacAfee?

That's right.

That the pilot?

Yeah.

Okay, boys.

They made a reservation for you on
a commercial flight into New York City.

Sending a car to take you and
the young lady to the airport.

What about the wrecked plane?

We've got orders to seal
off the area. Real hush-hush.

What happened? You tangle
with a flying saucer or something?

Oh, nothing so domestic as a flying
saucer, Officer. Just a flying battleship.

Well, have a good time
with your flying battleship.

Your car will be here soon.

- Where's the plane, Pierre?
- North 14, past the road.

Let's go, boys.

Hello? Oui, this is the
farm of Pierre Broussard.

Who? Oh, one moment.

A General Van Buskirk
for you, Mr. MacAfee.

I feel another snakebite
coming on. More medicine.

Well, flying battleship, pink
elephant. Same difference.

You really should
try buttermilk instead.

I said it looked like a battleship,
not that it was a battleship.

I should have called it an
overgrown adding machine.

Then at least you
would've believed me.

General Buskirk? MacAfee here.

Yes, sir. I am aware that
the pilot called in a UFO.

No, I didn't see anything myself
this time. Neither did Miss Caldwell.

Oh, the radar picked up
nothing but our plane in the area.

Well, I was kind of
expecting that too.

Joke? False alarm?

Look here, General, what kind of an infantile
jackass do you take me for? I tell you that...

Thank you.

Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Yes, sir.

I understand, sir.

When the shepherd cried wolf, they
believed him. The first time at least.

Civil Aeronautics Board is
sending up an investigating team

first thing in the morning.

So is the Air Force, as
soon as the CAB is done.

When we get to New York, we're to
keep ourselves available for questioning.

This glass must have a
hole in it. Keeps disappearing.

- How's the jug holding up, Pierre?
- You like Pierre's applejack, oui?

Ah, perfect antidote for snakebite, thunder,
lightning, and disbelieving generals.

Fill her up, Pierre.

- What's that?
- Something scared the animal!

It's Pierre!

Over here.

Easy, Pierre, easy. You're
safe. You're in the house.

- Carcagne! It was the carcagne! I saw her!
- What's a carcagne, Pierre?

- Come on, tell us about it.
- It's the devil in the storm.

With the face of the wolf and
the body of the woman with wings.

- Bigger than I can tell.
- You probably saw an eagle, Pierre.

- Oh, no! It was la carcagne! La carcagne!
- Oh, I remember now.

I read it somewhere.
It's a superstition,

a legend that the French Canadians
started and came across the border with.

Yeah. It vaguely rings
a small bell with me, too.

It was probably just the
lightning and the storm, Pierre.

- You just imagined the whole thing.
- No! No! I saw la carcagne!

Here. Take another
swallow of this.

Come in.

What's the matter with Pierre?

He thinks he saw
something weird in the sky.

I saw her. I saw la carcagne!

- He can't get it out of his head.
- Yeah, I know.

I live up this way myself.

There's a lot of the old folks
around here believe that yarn.

But this is the first time I ever heard
anybody claim he really saw the old witch.

- You come to take us to the airport?
- Yeah. Car outside.

- Oh, I hate to leave him like this.
- Oh, don't worry, ma'am.

Joe here will stay with
him. But we'd better hurry.

- They're holding that plane for you.
- Come on, Sally.

They're holding a plane
for us, we'd better get with it.

We haven't even thanked him.

I'm afraid the social amenities won't mean
very much to a man in Pierre's condition.

He's right, ma'am. You'd never get through,
the way he's scared stiff right now.

Scared? So he thought
he saw a big bird.

Why should that
paralyze him so with fright?

- Didn't he tell you?
- Tell us what?

The legend. According to the
story they tell, if you see this big bird,

it's a sign that you're
going to die real soon.

- That plane's waiting. We'd better go.
- Okay, Sergeant.

"The kiss you take is
better than you give."

A many-faceted
creature, this Mr. MacAfee.

First engineer and pilot
and now lover and poet.

Oh, the line of poetry
was from Shakespeare.

I know, but where did
that impulse come from?

- Left field, maybe.
- I like baseball.

Or maybe just sitting next to a pretty
girl. That's enough in itself, sometimes.

Even sitting next to
Mademoiselle Mathematician?

Or should we stick to
the baseball reference?

There are figures
and there are figures.

Inescapable logic, corny but
true. You almost overwhelm me.

Almost?

Well, let's finish the job.

Look at that moon.

Speaking of
baseball and left field,

somebody warned me that
you make up your own rules.

- Whoever said that's no friend of mine.
- But he's a friend of mine.

Sabotage!

Oh, much too dramatic. Let's
stick to baseball and say instead,

- "Out, trying to steal second."
- Back to the bush leagues, finished.

A quitter. I knew
it. No fight, no spirit.

Of course, the umpire could
always reverse her decision.

No, no short cuts.
Must follow the pattern.

First the minor leagues,
and then the major leagues.

- I stick to the rules, Mitch. Sorry about that.
- Why be sorry? You can always...

Pattern.

- Pattern.
- What's the matter?

Pattern. I need
one of your maps.

The orthographic
projection, the pole to equator.

- Give it to me, will you?
- Well, sure.

I think I have it
here somewhere.

Ah. Here it is.

What's that?

Open your map.

Now, where I sighted the UFO.

Where the search plane
disappeared. The Transpolar airliner.

Our plane at Pierre's. And
finally the Navy patrol plane.

- Well, you were muttering about a pattern.
- Well? See it?

Well, no. No straight
line, no curve, nothing.

Wait.

A pattern. A perfect
pattern in time and distance.

Each incident, each cross,
later than the one before.

Each one further out in
the spiral from the center.

You mean, something in
the air flew a pattern like that?

Yeah. Something I saw.

Something that flew over
and past me in the air.

Well, it would have to be traveling
at incredible speed to cover

- all the distance in the time involved.
- Yeah, it would.

Something that seemingly destroyed four
planes and barely missed you the first time.

Yes.

Something like your
flying battleship?

- Okay, forget the whole thing.
- Oh, well, now, Mitch. Be reasonable.

Why that pattern, just to knock
down a few scattered planes?

And what? A meteorite?
Impossible! A guided missile?

Well, that would stop
with the first plane it hit.

And who would launch
it? And for what reason?

No, Mitch, coincidence,
yes. But pattern, no.

Here's your map.

Well, you are a
child. Mitch, think!

If there was anything
flying this kind of a pattern,

why, it would be tracked
by dozens of different radars.

And none of them
spotted a thing, so what?

Well, maybe it was
Pierre's carcagne,

"with the head of a wolf and the body of
a woman, with wings as big as I can tell!"

- There's no need to be sarcastic.
- Look, would you two mind being quiet

so the rest of us can
sleep? Thank you.

Sorry. Maybe I
was being childish.

Mitch MacAfee, flying
Sherlock Holmes.

I think you did make better
sense with your poetry

than you did with your
detective deductions.

- I know another poem.
- Oh?

"Be plain in dress
and sober in your diet.

"ln short, my deary,
kiss me, and be quiet."

Date, the 18th of the month. Sky
clear, light clouds. Visibility unlimited.

Time, 0815 hours.

A CAB plane flies toward the
scene of the previous day's crash

involving Mitchell MacAfee.

On board, four members of the Civil
Aeronautics Board investigating team.

And a pilot.

Time, 0816 hours.

Another significant
moment in history.

Once more a frantic pilot radios
in a report on a UFO. A bird.

A bird as big as a battleship, circling
and preparing to attack the CAB plane.

Stop leaning on the
buzzer. I'm coming.

Mr. MacAfee?

- Or a reasonable facsimile thereof.
- General Buskirk's respects, sir.

- He'd like to see you right away.
- Oh, have a heart, Captain.

I got in late last night. I just about
fell asleep when you woke me.

- Sorry, sir, the General says it's urgent.
- So is my sleep!

My orders are to bring you
to the General's office at once.

Even if I have to take
you into protective custody.

Okay, Captain, don't get in a tizzy. You
keep your shirt on, I'll go get my pants on.

My sighting. The search plane, the
Transpolar airliner, our plane at Pierre's

and the Navy patrol plane. Too much, and
it fits too well, to be just coincidence.

There have been two
more since the Navy plane.

A private plane here last night and a CAB
plane with four passengers and a pilot here.

All following your theoretical
pattern smack dab on the nose.

No radar tracks, I suppose?

As usual, since you started
this crazy nightmare, nothing.

Except about the planes.

Did the pilots report anything?

Not a word from the
pilot of the private plane.

But the CAB pilot
reported a UFO.

- Did he say what it was?
- Yes. A bird.

A bird as big as a battleship
circled and attacked the plane.

- Believe me, Mr. MacAfee, this is no joke.
- Oh, no.

That plane was
completely destroyed.

And all five men on board seem
to have completely disappeared

from the face of the Earth.

Now, you're an
electronics expert.

Could there have been anything that big up
in the sky and not be picked up by radar?

Impossible! But I saw it myself.

Yes. Three men reported they saw
something and two of them are now dead.

Well, that makes me chief cook and bottle
washer in a one-man bird watcher's society.

Mr. MacAfee, this is vitally
important. Did you get a good look at it?

No, it was just a blur as it went past.
How I wish I'd had a camera with me.

Camera! General
Buskirk, before I went out

on this radar assignment with Mitch, I
was doing Earth curvature calibration work.

Well, how does
that help us on this?

Well, we used film strips
photographed from inside test rockets

and from fixed cameras
and observation balloons.

- Sally, maybe you've got it!
- lf those balloons are still up,

there's a bare possibility they
photographed this thing, whatever it is.

General Edward Considine,
Pentagon. Priority, fast!

Something's coming up now.

Kill it!

This film and all the information
pertaining to it and the bird are classified

as top secret. Notify all
agencies and personnel involved

who have handled the
project or will handle it.

Yes, sir.

- Johnson!
- Yes, sir?

Put the entire command on
combat readiness right away.

Notify the Pentagon and have them
tell General Considine I'm on my way.

Yes, sir.

Colonel Tyler at the
field? Line one, please.

Oh, Nate. Nate. Buskirk
here. Warm up my plane.

And file a flight plan for me
to National, Washington. Right.

We're coming now. Two
extra passengers. Okay.

You two are coming with me to
Washington. Miss Caldwell. Mr. MacAfee.

It's some sort
of bird all right.

There's no question of that.

Miss Caldwell, is it possible that this
bird has been flying in blind spot areas

- that our radar can't pick up?
- No, sir. I checked carefully.

At least ten different radar
sites should have tracked it.

Mr. MacAfee, could speed or altitude affect
the ability of our radar to pick it up?

No. There's no scientific or any
other kind of reason in the world

why our radars don't track
it. They just don't. Period.

Then what you're saying in essence, is that
black is white and two and two make six.

Look, General, I didn't invent this flying
nightmare, I just saw it and reported it.

The General understands, Mr. MacAfee.
He's not blaming you for anything.

Relax, man.

Relax? When do we stop
relaxing and start doing something?

Good sense isn't confined
exclusively to civilians, Mr. MacAfee.

We know how to take care
of ourselves and the country.

Easy, Van, easy. Take it easy.

There's a general air alert
on this very minute, son.

Hundreds of planes
from every command

are combing the skies, searching
for this overgrown buzzard.

- We'll find it all right. Never fear.
- And when we do, General. Then what?

Yes? Good! Where?

Okay, this is official now.

Pass 'em the word to shoot it down.
No questions, no games, no stalling.

Just shoot it down. Yes.

Get me a tape on all
air-to-ground and air-to-air channels,

and pipe it through a hotline to me
here. One of our squadrons just spotted it.

I've ordered them to
attack and shoot it down.

Our planes are armed with
cannon, machine guns and rockets.

This should be the end of the
big bird who was there but wasn't.

You'll be able to
hear it as it happens.

This is Easy Baker
squadron leader.

- Target below and to the side. See it?
- Yow! Holy Toledo!

I've seen some mighty big
chicken hawks back on the farm,

but, man, this
baby takes the cake.

Honest to pete, I'll never call my
mother-in-law an old crow again.

This is Easy Baker
squadron leader.

Peel off on signal. One pass
and then you're on your own.

This is Easy Baker
squadron leader.

It's got one of the planes.

I must be losing my marbles.

This isn't for real. Bullets,
rockets, nothing touches it.

Easy Baker squadron leader.

Charlie hit the silk when the
bird got his plane and now it...

Charlie's gone. Chute and all.

It don't make sense.

Like we're hitting a
battleship with a slingshot.

It's going after another
plane. Look out!

Easy Baker squadron
leader. Mission's a washout.

We're going to head for... No!
It's coming after me! No! No!

Machine guns, cannons,
rockets, nothing touched it.

- Those pilots...
- We'll find it, all right, never fear.

The end of the big bird.

You were right, Miss Caldwell,
when we find it, what then?

Phase two off
standby, operational.

- Notify the Joint Chiefs.
- Yes, sir.

It doesn't make sense.
It's just a bird, a big bird.

- Guns. Cannons. Rockets. It's just a bird.
- Sure, it's just a bird.

Ten million dollars worth
of radar can't track it.

Enough firepower to wipe out a
regiment can't even slow it down.

Sure, it's just a bird.

Well, what are we going to do,
just sit around here and weep?

- Oh, climb off our backs, MacAfee.
- We're not crying, MacAfee,

and we're not running away. But
it's hard to come up with answers

when you don't even
know what the question is.

Being flip doesn't help any.

I'm not criticizing either
of you or the Air Force

or those guys who just died
trying to shoot that thing down.

I'm not being flip, and
I'm not wisecracking.

I'm just scared.
We all are, I guess.

So let's face that and then try
and do something about that bird.

- Any suggestions, MacAfee?
- Sure, electronic spitballs!

- Van.
- Close, General, close.

Only not electronic
spitballs, atomic spitballs.

- Yes?
- Phase two operational.

- All units alerted and ready.
- Good.

Call for you. Dr. Karol
Noymann at the research lab.

I'll take it on two.

This is General
Considine, Dr. Noymann.

Say that again? Good, good.

You stay where you
are. I'll be right over.

Research lab's been
kept right up to date.

They've been working on the
wreckage of that CAB plane

- and the plane that you two cracked up in.
- Find anything new, Ed?

They think they've figured out what
that bird is and where it came from.

About those atomic spitballs.

An hour before your plane
landed in Washington,

I ordered guided missiles with
atomic warheads made ready

for every launching
site in the country

where the fallout pattern
makes it safe to explode them.

The order you heard me give
to make phase two operational

was an order to fire those missiles the
moment that bird is spotted anywhere!

- General, I'm sorry, I guess l...
- Don't apologize, son, I admire your spunk.

And you keep climbing on our backs
whenever we've messed up any of the detail.

- Van?
- Sorry, Mac.

- I guess we're all trying to do our best.
- You two better come along.

You're up to your ears
in this thing anyway.

Come on, let's go.

The atom is the basic
building block of all matter.

The atom this model represents
is like every atom as we know it.

The nucleus is positive.
The electrons are all negative.

In this respect, it has been
maintained that all atoms are alike.

But this is wrong, all wrong!

According to the law of
electrodynamics, all nature is symmetrical.

It is in balance. And if there is matter,
then there must also be antimatter,

a symmetrical mirror image.

Now here we have a positive
nucleus, negative electrons.

In the reverse, we must obviously have
a negative nucleus with positive electrons.

Science has proved that this is so,
not in this Earth nor in this solar system

but somewhere in the
universe there are stars, planets,

whole galaxies
made up of antimatter.

Well, do you mean to say, Doctor,
that this bird is made of antimatter?

That it's reversed, inside out,
a mirror image, as you call it?

Just a minute, General.

Doctor, it's been proven
that antimatter exists,

but it's also been proven that whenever
it comes in contact with ordinary matter,

they annihilate one
another, blow up.

Why didn't the bird explode when it
was hit, or when it touched something?

Well, you are both right and
wrong. The bird itself is not antimatter.

But the bird unquestionably radiates
some sort of force, an energy screen,

some invisible barrier. And
that energy screen is antimatter.

Guns, cannons, rockets,
no wonder nothing touched it.

Stuff hit the antimatter screen
and blew up before it could get close.

- Mitch, this explains the failure of the radar.
- Yeah.

No reflecting surface. The radar waves
wouldn't bounce off, they'd slide around.

So with no echo, no tracks.

Dr. Noymann, a couple of questions.
All this isn't just guesswork on your part?

No, it is not
guesswork, General.

Evidently, this bird is able
to open that antimatter screen

to use its beak, its claws, its
wings as destructive weapons.

Now, here is part
of the wreckage.

Examination by a staff of scientists
has told us the whole incredible story.

It has been checked
and double-checked.

- ls there anything else, General?
- Yes, Doctor.

Where did this bird come from?

Here is a piece of feather from
the bird, found in the wreckage.

At least, we call it a feather,
we don't know what it is.

Only what it looks like. It
has defied chemical analysis,

the electroscope,
every conceivable test.

It contains no substance
known on the Earth today,

no element recognizable by man.

- Finding that out was expensive.
- Well, how so?

We had several of these
feathers, this is the only piece left.

As a last resort, we tried testing
them in electronic analyzers.

Look.

That bird is extraterrestrial.

It comes from outer space,

from some godforsaken
antimatter galaxy

millions and millions of
light years from the Earth.

No other explanation
is possible.

Van will fly you two
back to New York.

I'd appreciate it if you'd hold yourselves
in readiness and, of course, you understand

that everything that you've
seen and heard is classified.

My command is ready, Ed, and waiting
at the end of a hotline. Just phone.

Just phone, Van? Well, I'll need
help, all the help I can get. We all will.

The only trouble is that the
last time I talked to a chaplain,

there wasn't any telephone
line to the one and only place

where we can get the
kind of help that we need.

General Considine.

This is an emergency. Get
me the Secretary of Defense.

Up to now, only one man
had seen the bird and lived.

Among those who knew of it, its
existence was a closely guarded secret.

But even as arrangements were made
for an emergency meeting of the President,

the Cabinet, the National Defense
Board, and the Joint Chiefs of Staff,

even then, the bird revealed
itself to the world at large

and complacency quickly turned
to panic. Panic, terror, and horror.

No corner of the Earth
was spared the terror

of looking up into God's blue sky
and seeing, not peace and security,

but the feathered
nightmare on wings.

Oh, come in.

Well, I worked half the night running your
figures through the calculating machine.

- Hope the results are what you want.
- Good. Thanks.

Mitch?

Oh. Thank you.

Oh, really. For two days and a night now,
ever since we got back from Washington,

you've had your nose buried in all
those papers, figuring, calculating.

- Mitch, you've got to stop to sleep and eat.
- I've been busy.

What you're working on have
anything to do with the bird?

To destroy the bird?
Well, will it work, Mitch?

I don't know.

I honestly haven't the
faintest, foggiest idea.

It's one of those cock-eyed
concepts that you pull down

out of cloud eight somewhere
in sheer desperation.

Said anything about this to General
Buskirk or General Considine?

And have them gently remind me to
stay in my own backyard? No, thanks.

What's the difference? There's only
a million-to-one chance it will work.

It's just something to do instead of
this deadly sitting around and waiting.

Mitch, I've been thinking
about the bird, too.

Yeah, you and everybody
else in the world.

Ever stop to wonder
why the bird came here?

Could it have been for food?

I mean, does the bird eat, in the
sense that we understand eating?

Well, Dr. Noymann says
that it absorbs energy

from the things it
destroys, including humans,

sort of a molecular osmosis.

Could it have come here to rest?

- lf it did, it sure as shooting isn't.
- Right.

So far as we knew the bird
just kept flying around the Earth,

always flying, never stopping.

Well, that's what bothered
me, so I called General Buskirk.

Mitch, remember Pierre
Broussard, at the farm?

Yeah, him and his la carcagne,
or whatever he thought he saw.

It just goes to prove what they
always say, truth is stranger than fiction.

Well, this was no fiction. Pierre
did see something, he saw the bird.

12,000 feet up at
night in a storm?

- No. The bird came down to Earth.
- But you just finished saying...

Well, General Buskirk told me
they found the mark of a giant claw

on a field next to Pierre
Broussard's farm, and I know why.

The bird came
here to build a nest.

Nest.

Eggs.

More birds.

It's got to be true. There's
just no other reason for it.

General Buskirk. MacAfee
calling. This is urgent.

Baby, gather up those papers for
me, will you please? Take these, too.

General Buskirk? MacAfee.

Now, please don't argue or ask for reasons.
I'll explain later. It's desperately important.

I need a fast plane,
and then a helicopter.

Please, please, General,
believe me. I know what I'm doing.

Yeah, at Broussard's
place, the farm.

Right. We're leaving right
now. Sally's with me. Yes.

We'll go straight
to the airport.

We interrupt this program for
an important announcement.

Ladies and gentlemen,
speaking from Washington,

Lieutenant General Considine,
United States Air Force.

We are faced with a crisis,

a crisis for which all
the nations of the world,

in unprecedented cooperative
action, have found as yet no solution.

Until we do, we shall not rest.

We have tried every weapon in the
arsenals of the mightiest armies on Earth.

They have proven
worse than useless.

Atomic, hydrogen weapons,
capable of wiping cities,

countries off the face of the
Earth, are completely ineffective

against this creature
from the skies.

Two days ago, all
aircraft were grounded.

Deprived of its source of food or
energy, however the bird survives,

the bird began a series
of attacks on the ground,

in a fantastic orgy of
destruction never before seen.

Nothing has been safe
from attack by the bird,

cattle, horses, fields, homes,
trains, all manner of transportation.

It has become obvious that the
bird is attracted by movement.

Accordingly, your government
and all the governments of the world

have declared a state of
emergency and instituted martial law.

In addition to grounding all
aircraft, all surface transportation,

cars, trucks, buses,
trains, ships at sea,

all such traffic must
be halted at once.

The movement of food
and essential supplies

will be handled by
the armed forces.

Blackout conditions will be
observed from sunset to dawn

every night until
further notice.

Movement of any sort on the streets
or highways during the daylight hours

must be held to an
absolute minimum

and only where it has
been authorized as essential.

You have just heard General Considine
speaking from Washington. Stay tuned...

Mitch!

Well, that plane is waiting for us.
We've gotta get up to Pierre's place.

There it is!

We'd better land before
that decides to do it again.

The guns.

Two Weatherby.378
Magnums, they'll stop anything.

Anything, Mitch?

Well, anything but the bird,
but we're looking for eggs.

Without antimatter
energy screens, you hope.

- La carcagne?
- No, Pepe, not la carcagne,

a million times worse.

Let's get out of here.

It looks like the nest, all
right. No sign of any egg.

Well, it might be
somewhere down in there.

Only way to find out is
to go down there and look.

La carcagne!

An egg!

You shoot gun, make the big noise.
La carcagne come and we all die.

We have to get that egg,
Pierre, it's our only chance.

Pierre, he not stay.

Pierre! Come back!

I'm from Montana.

Pierre and his la carcagne.

- He was right. Seeing it did mean his death.
- Yeah.

I'll alert Washington.
They'll get out search parties.

Everywhere in the world,
wherever the bird has been sighted,

just on the off chance that
there might be more eggs,

so they can be
found and destroyed.

That much we can do.

Well, let's get
back to the city.

With that bird around,
it's too dangerous to fly.

We'll leave the chopper
and take Pierre's car.

He won't be needing it.

- Come on, Brad, make this thing go.
- Yeah, come on.

Let's get some speed on this.
Oh, man, he ain't moving at all.

Come on! Come on!

- Some maniac driving with lights and fast.
- Maybe he didn't hear the proclamation.

I'll flag him down
when he tries to pass.

- Hey, daddy-o, get that tin can off the road.
- Come on, man.

- Hey, man, who's afraid of the big bad bird?
- Turn out your lights! Get off the road!

Don't worry about us,
we've got salt for its tail.

Hey, watch out for that
salt, don't get it in the carbs!

Come on, let's go!

Crazy kids! They don't
know what they're doing!

- Dig you later, 'gator.
- Hey, daddy-o, don't call us, we'll call you.

- They boy is badly hurt, but he's alive.
- The girl's unconscious.

There's a town up ahead with
a hospital. We'll take them there.

You and I are going in
to Washington tonight.

I'll bring the car
over here for the kids.

Miss Caldwell,
MacAfee, I'm a busy man.

I hope this isn't some sort
of crackpot wild goose chase.

You and me both, General.

Well, it's your dime, boy.
What is it you want to show me?

- How to shoot the bird out of the sky.
- Some new type of weapon?

No, with regular guns, bullets
and bombs. Anything you want.

MacAfee, I told you
that I haven't got time...

Listen, General. This idea of mine
may prove to be as phony as a $3 bill,

- but I still think it's worth a listen.
- Well, go ahead.

Now I don't care whether
that bird came from outer space

or Upper Saddle
River, New Jersey,

it's still made of flesh
and blood of some sort

and vulnerable to
bullets and bombs.

If you can get past that
antimatter energy screen.

Right. That's exactly what I think,
what I hope I've figured out how to do.

I've just invested a dime of
my own, boy. Keep talking.

Now, this is a blow-up I had made
of a bubble chamber photograph.

The chamber was bombarded
with high-speed particles.

Result, a photograph of a trail made
by what is known as a mu meson.

But notice this hole,
this gap right here.

This gap is one of the most exciting
and significant recent discoveries

in all science.

You probably know
about it, Dr. Noymann.

Yes, yes. The formation
of a temporary mesic atom,

the mu meson with
a hydrogen nucleus.

Right. But mu mesons are
210 times heavier than electrons.

Which means that in a mesic atom,
the electrons revolve around a nucleus

at just a small fraction of the
ordinary distance in a normal atom.

I know you don't understand all
this, General, but stick with me.

Now, the mesic atom
is extremely small,

small enough to sift through the
electron defenses of the ordinary atom

- and fuse with its nuclei.
- Atoms of matter or antimatter.

Right, Doc! Now if this thing of mine
works and we can get close, real close,

and bombard that bird's antimatter
energy shield with a stream of mesic atoms,

I think we can
destroy that shield.

The bird would be defenseless
then except for beak, claws and wings.

You could hit it with
everything but the kitchen sink.

We've got kitchen sinks to spare,
son. Do you think you can do it?

Well, I've kicked around some
ideas. I'm not sure they'll work,

- but it's certainly worth a try.
- Well, what do you need?

This lab, Dr. Noymann and his
staff, Sally here to help with the math,

and a blank check for
supplies and equipment.

It was yours before
you finished asking for it.

MacAfee, time is running out. Today,
tomorrow, a week from now maybe...

Besides I'd hate to lose that dime
I've got invested in you. Good luck, son.

- Well, anybody ready for some work?
- Work or maybe some magic.

- What we need is a miracle!
- Here it is. A miracle.

A dime's worth of miracle.

This weapon would have
to create mesic atoms,

not as rare and isolated
laboratory phenomena,

but in tremendous quantities,

eject them through some
aiming and propelling device

so they could travel indefinite
distances through the air

to arrive with sufficient speed
and in sufficient numbers

to bombard and destroy
an antimatter shield.

Truly a miracle of science.

Especially since the scientific total
life expectancy for a mesic atom,

up to now, measured in laboratories,
had been one two-millionth of a second.

Failure.

Failure...

...after failure...

...after failure.

And while a handful of dedicated
people struggled to achieve the impossible,

panic spread to all corners of the
Earth. Panic and nightmare terror.

Easy.

Mitch.

Easy, son, easy.
You did your best.

We can't have you killing the patient
trying to cure the disease, now, can we?

A magnificent effort,
Mitch, magnificent.

It's unfortunate it was
doomed to failure from the start.

Oh, great.

Now if somebody will
just deliver the eulogy,

the deceased can be
safely laid away to rest.

What's the matter with you,
are you all nuts or something?

Mitch, are you all right?

Sally, how long has it
been since the explosion?

About an hour and a
half, two hours, I guess.

- Oh, we're wasting time.
- Easy, son, easy.

- ls that bird still in the air?
- Why, yes.

- You still want to shoot it down?
- Why, yes, yes, sure.

Well, then, for pete's sake, let's get
with it. General Buskirk has had a plane

waiting in that field outside of New York
ever since we started the experiments.

We've got to get the
equipment installed on that plane.

Mitch, the apparatus didn't
work. The experiments failed.

Mitch, please lie down in bed.
You were hurt in that explosion.

Of course, you don't know.
The explosion was no accident.

I did it on purpose. I used
the mesic atom projector.

What?

Well, sure. We had the
basic wiring all fouled up.

It was a simple matter
of adjusting the polarity

on the main condenser terminals.

I figured it out while you two were
asleep, set it up right and tried it.

- Now wait a minute, MacAfee.
- Mitch!

Wait a minute. Are you trying to tell
me that that machine of yours works?

- Sure.
- What kind of plane has

- Buskirk got waiting for you?
- An old, stripped-down B-25.

Good. Maneuverability
instead of speed.

Yeah, the whole operation may
depend on being able to turn on a dime.

Well, then what in
blazes are we waiting for?

Well, that's what I've been
talking about for 10 minutes.

Get me my pants, will you,
General? Oh, Sally, get out of here.

We've installed the ejector
nozzle in the tail of the plane,

- pointing to the back.
- Rewiring the plane's generating system,

plus an added bank of batteries,
should give us more than enough power.

Now, weight's a problem. How many people
will you need to operate this machine?

The doctor, myself
and a calculator.

Have you got someone coming
up here for Sally to brief in a hurry?

- I don't want her on that plane.
- He's coming in from the city now.

One question. Why do you aim that gimmick
from the tail and not from the nose?

Too dangerous in the nose. We might
fly into our own mesic bombardment

- and destroy the plane.
- Chances are, once we locate the bird

and we're up in the air,
the bird will chase us.

- And if it doesn't?
- We'll attract its attention somehow.

- Sandwiches and coffee.
- Thank you.

The bird's been sighted
heading for New York City.

- How long will it take you to finish?
- An hour and a half or two.

- Still got to connect the thing up.
- No, that's too long.

We've got to take off in 15 minutes.
You'll have to finish in the air.

What about the
calculator to replace Sally?

Sorry, MacAfee, we
haven't got any time for that.

- General...
- Van, you'll fly, I'll back-stop you.

- Clear the field for a takeoff.
- Right.

Well, what are we waiting for?
Get the rest of your stuff on board.

There it is now, attacking
the United Nations building.

Make a pass at it.

The bird's after us, chasing
us. How are you doing?

- Ready in a minute.
- Well, fast, boy, fast.

For God's sake, hurry, man!
It's catching up with us fast.

Got it! Close those circuits.

It's all yours, General.

Steady.

Steady.

Fire rockets.

We got it.