Original subtitles

[music playing]

Well, what do you know?

What do I know about what?

I mean, it can't be.

What can't be.

Got to be something in here.

Mark, what's something?

The bad news.

I mean, I can't find any bad news in this newspaper.

I cannot remember ever reading a newspaper where

there wasn't any bad news.

I realize it's just a local paper.

But not one bit of bad news?

I mean, look at this.

The economy is up.

People are happy.

It's like, for once, all the bad times are behind us, you know?

Oh, even though it is for one day.

It's like one of those days.

God's in his heaven and all is right with the world.

I mean even the one piece of sad news is kind of good.

Yeah, what piece is that?

Well, there's this-- this guy.

He's a local kid.

He was reported missing in action for 18 years.

The Vietnamese are sending his remains home.

That means his family is finally going to get to bury him today.

I mean, do you realize how tough that

had to have been, I mean, never knowing for sure,

all that time?

18 years after being reported missing in action--

Timothy Charles Jr. is finally coming home.

How did you know what it said?

He's our assignment.

Mr. Charles.

What?

Mr. Charles, uh, I can wait a little longer before we

start if you like, but--

No, no, no.

I guess no one's going to show.

I j-- I don't understand how they

could all have forgotten him.

Well, it's been 18 years.

People move away.

He was so popular.

In high school-- no, not just high school,

for as long as I can remember, the house

was always full of kids.

The noise would drive you crazy though.

There was a whole gang of them, before and after the game,

the whole team.

You'd just see this bunch of kids.

And he'd be in the center of it, see,

laughing and telling jokes.

Why didn't they come, Padre?

Why didn't this noisy damn bunch of kids

show up at my son's funeral?

You go ahead and start.

Don't you cut it short.

And don't leave out one thing.

I want you to do it as though all these chairs were occupied.

Do you understand?

Yes, sir.

I-- I will.

There's one thing you can leave out.

All this merciful Father crap and all this other stuff,

because I don't believe in a God that could take my boy

and not let even one of his friends remember.

Just read what it says on his citations.

CHAPLAIN: Yes, sir.

Timothy Charles, Jr. has come home today.

Warrant Officer Charles was an exemplary soldier

and a loving son.

As a helicopter pilot in Vietnam,

he rescued many hundreds of men.

[car door opens]

He died in the line of duty--

[car doors close]

--fulfilling the motto of his fellow pilots.

That motto has only three words--

duty, not rewards.

He'll be mourned by--

[sighs]

--by us all.

Ready, load.

Ready, aim, fire.

[gunshot]

Aim, fire.

[gunshot]

Aim, fire.

[gunshot]

Cease firing.

Present arms.

[trumpet playing taps]

Forward, arm, left face forward march!

[footsteps fading]

Charles?

Did you know my son?

I don't remember you.

We're not from around here.

My friend and I were just passing through.

We saw your notice in the paper.

I met your son a long time ago.

Oh, where?

In the service, Vietnam or something?

Yeah.

Yeah, I really didn't know him well.

Like I said, I just met him once.

But one thing I do remember about him, that was his smile.

Look, uh, you fellows want to come over to the hangar.

I've got some refreshment and stuff set up there.

My place is too small.

I-- I've been living in a trailer since my wife

Maggie died.

And it's too small to hold a wake.

Irish, you know.

I'm sort of babbling, aren't I?

Hey, that's OK.

I guess we could hold old Timothy's wake

in a broom closet, couldn't we?

Look, Mr. uh-- - Smith.

Jonathan Smith.

Mark Gordon.

I wish you could come over, just for a little while.

I need to talk about him.

I-- I talk about him all the time anyway.

But usually I'm the only one in the room.

We'd love to come.

[music playing]

TIMOTHY CHARLES: It's something all right.

It's a graveyard for planes.

Lots of ghosts.

Lots of ghosts.

I come down here a lot, ah, too much probably.

I flew a bomber in the Second World War.

MARK: You were a bomber pilot?

Yeah, leather jacket, cap set at a jaunty angle,

knees shaking, wet pants most of the time.

[laughing]

I was a regular flyboy.

I got my wings when I was a 20-year-old kid, just

about the same age that Timmy was when he got killed.

Quick reflexes when you're a kid, you know?

Timmy was a good pilot.

He was an athlete.

And he was very responsible.

He wasn't foolhardy, you know?

What kind of plane did you fly?

What kind?

I'll not only show you the kind, I'll show you the plane.

You mean the actual plane flew?

In the flesh, what's left of it.

There she is.

Her and me, we're in about the same shape now.

MARK: Maggie's Pride.

TIMOTHY CHARLES: Yeah, named her after my wife.

Well, she wasn't my wife then.

She didn't take too kindly to the idea

when she heard about it.

But I was the Skipper.

And that's what we called her.

Ah, but she was only pretending to be angry I

bet she was really flattered.

Yeah, that's right.

I remember when I first saw her, it was in a train

station in Kansas City.

I'd been stationed out there for a little while.

I remember she-- she had this sweater on.

And.

She was just-- she was just buxom.

[laughing]

Yeah, I remember it was like yesterday.

There was this red-haired buxom gal.

I used to bring Timmy, and we'd sit up there in the cockpit.

And he'd-- he'd ask what Maggie was so proud about.

And she used to pretend to be mad.

If I didn't come down here so much

and talk about it all the time, maybe he wouldn't

have wanted to be a pilot.

But he loved me a lot.

He wanted to be just like me.

If I hadn't filled his head with so much of this damn stuff--

Tim, your boy was proud of you.

He loved you.

He was lucky to have you for a dad.

If he was so damn lucky, how come he's so damn dead?

I'm sorry.

Look, let's-- let's go get a drink.

This is supposed to be an Irish wake.

[door squeaks open]

I'm sorry.

It's a big mess here.

But like I said, the--

the trailer is too small.

Oh, how about a cold one?

Oh, that sounds good.

- How about you? - No, no.

I'm fine, thank you.

Why don't you help yourself to some food.

There's-- there's plenty of it there.

Make a sandwich.

Thanks.

He was a fine looking boy.

TIMOTHY CHARLES: He was better than me by the time he was 14.

I don't know, kids are getting bigger and bigger all the time.

You don't know where it will end.

I should have been killed a hundred times over in the war.

But I wasn't.

It's the draw of the cards I guess.

I figure I'm living on borrowed time.

He was a wonderful kid.

We were lucky to have him as long as we did.

What gets me, though, is that people don't remember.

Or if they do, they just don't care.

You remember.

So what?

His mother's dead.

I'll be dead soon enough.

It's just that I'd like to know before I die that--

that someone remembered him, that it

wasn't all just in vain.

That boy lived.

He walked the Earth.

He helped people.

He-- he lit up a room when he walked into it.

Look at you.

You-- you met him just for a second and you remember.

And with the others, it's as though he didn't exist.

Maybe you can help them remember.

How?

Yeah, well, let's face it, the article in the paper

was pretty small.

Maybe people just missed it.

Look, you could take an ad.

I mean, there must be people in this town

who remember him, who went to school with him,

were touched by him.

Maybe you could even start a scholarship fund

in his name to help kids, kids who would remember his name,

kids who'd know that Timothy Charles, Jr. must have been

a pretty special guy because a bunch of his friends

got together and all chipped in to start

a fund to help children.

I mean, I think people would do that.

They'd just have to know about it, that's all.

Timmy would like that.

Yeah, he would.

Well, what are we waiting for?

Let's put the ad in the paper.

Yeah, right.

Let's go.

Not one response.

I'm sorry, Tim.

Yeah, right.

People, give them a chance.

Well, we tried.

That's the end of it.

It's all for nothing, isn't it?

What?

Life, everything.

It's all for nothing.

I don't believe that.

Well, then, you're a sucker pal.

You're a grade-A chump.

You going to tell me there's some kind of plan,

that we're all going to meet in the great beyond.

Would you believe me if I did tell you that?

I'd believe you were an idiot.

You don't happen to see an angel walking around out there?

I sure as hell don't.

Ah, you know, most people would an angel if he came up

and sat down right next to him.

One thing I will tell you, it's not over.

Oh, yeah.

What are we supposed to do now, go from door to door

and beg his old friends to remember?

Or you're going to tell me the ad wasn't big enough,

maybe the front page of the "New York Times" would do.

You're beating a dead horse, my friend.

People don't care.

People don't remember.

Out of sight, out of mind.

You know what will be left of my son

after I'm gone, a grave that nobody visits.

People will walk by and wonder who-- who's buried there.

And you're telling me it's not all for nothing.

Well, you don't have an answer for that, do you?

Do you?

Mr. Barker, my name is Jonathan Smith.

I told my secretary to tell you that I was busy.

Well, Mr. Barker, Tim Charles was a boy who went

to school with your son Ted.

He died in Vietnam.

What we're trying to do is set up a scholarship

fund in his name so--

I don't care about what you're trying to do, Smith.

My son was in Vietnam.

He was wounded there, almost killed.

I think our family's given enough.

Tim Charles gave his life, sir.

My son spent two years in a hospital, Smith.

And I hate that war.

And I hate everything to do with it.

It makes good sense to hate any war, Mr. Barker.

My son still wakes up with nightmares.

I am not going to aggrandize that kind of a fiasco

by contributing to some kind of war memorial.

It's not a war memorial.

It's a scholarship fund for children in the name of a boy

who died so others could live.

You must have known him.

He was probably in your home.

Why don't you take a look at his picture.

You might remember him.

Now, I don't need to take a look at anything.

And I don't need anyone to come in here

and remind me and my family of a war that we need to forget.

Have you ever talked to your son

about what he went through over there?

My son is trying to forget what

he went through over there.

But you've never asked him what he went through, have you?

That's none of your business.

Maybe that's why he still has nightmares.

Get out of here.

I said, get out.

You know, there's some things that shouldn't be forgotten

and some people who mustn't be forgotten.

[door closes]

What was his last name again?

Charles, Tim Charles.

[muttering]

He went to high school in this town.

He was a classmate of yours. You must remember him.

Yeah.

Yeah, I think so, some kind of football star or something?

Right.

Yeah, I didn't play football.

Uh, I didn't hang around with those guys.

They got all the girls and--

Mr. Lee, all Tim got was killed.

Were you in Vietnam?

No, I wasn't.

I mean, I didn't do anything to get out of it.

I-- I wasn't drafted.

They met their quota.

Did you get drafted?

No, I joined up.

Hey, well, I didn't, OK.

I'm getting a little tired of these guys parading around with

their camouflage shirts trying to make

me feel guilty because I was lucky and they weren't.

I mean, I don't see how because they got drafted

and I didn't, that makes them some kind of big heroes.

Yeah, well, I'm not trying to make you feel guilty.

A classmate of yours got blown away.

And some people want to start a scholarship for it.

Yeah, well, I got my own scholarship fund.

I got a kid graduating from high school.

I got to save every cent I can to put her through college.

I got to think of her future.

I got to take care of my own, you know.

Tim Charles is one of your own.

So is every man who wore the uniform.

I didn't know the guy, OK?

Look, I'm sorry he got killed.

I really am, but that's the way it goes.

I don't owe him anything.

I don't owe you anything.

I didn't say you did.

Hey, like I said, I got lucky.

He didn't.

If it were the other way around, he'd be here

telling you the same thing.

No.

No, he wouldn't.

[door closes]

Mr. Smith, I just don't see what this has to do with me.

Well, boy that lived in this town.

I've never had much to do with the children

who lived in this town.

I don't have any children.

All I have is Queenie Jr. here.

We're all the family we've got.

Oh, I know.

But you must have known the boy.

He lived just down the block.

Mr. Smith, I don't mean to be unkind.

But I'm a senior citizen.

I live on a fixed income.

I don't have the money to-- well, just

to throw around for every cause.

And besides, I never had much to do with politics.

This had nothing to do with politics, Mrs. Foley.

I mean, this is a scholarship fund to try to help children.

And who's going to help me?

I'm an old person.

They have the future.

I don't.

All I have is Queenie Jr. here.

I'm sorry, Mr. Smith, but this boy, this scholarship,

fund the war, it just has nothing to do with me.

It never has.

I'm sorry.

Come on, Queenie.

[bark]

[door closes]

[knocking]

TIMOTHY CHARLES: Yeah, yeah, come on in.

Come on in. [door opens]

Hey, how are you doing?

Hey, Jonathan.

I just wanted to return this.

Oh, yeah, set it down there, will you?

Thanks.

And thanks for trying to help.

It didn't work out, but you tried.

It's crazy, isn't it?

You're a stranger and you tried.

Ah, the hell with them.

They don't want to remember, the hell with them.

Like I said, it's all for nothing.

Hey, wait a minute.

I'm not done trying.

Not over yet.

Yeah, right.

Look, I know you mean well.

But I don't want you to go around begging that bunch

of ingrates to remember my boy.

He doesn't deserve that.

Look, I'm not going to do any begging.

And I'm not doing this just for you boy anymore.

What are you talking about?

There's too many people in this town

trying to forget too many things and for all the wrong reasons.

There's too many wounds here that haven't healed.

I don't give a damn about their wounds.

They forgot about my son.

Now I want to forget about them.

I--

Tim, you all right?

Yeah, I'm all right.

I'm all right.

I just-- I just want to sit down now--

Why don't you--

[coughs]

Thanks.

You know what?

This is all a crazy dream anyway.

I-- I just wish--

What?

I just wish I could see him again, see that smile,

hear that laugh, hear him say, hi, pop.

I'm home.

Maybe you will someday.

Yeah, sure, up-- up in the clouds.

Just leave me alone.

Um, I'm-- I'm tired.

Sure.

I'll see you later.

I just hope those people sleep good at night.

I bet they do know, you know?

I wouldn't be so sure of that, Tim.

At least not tonight.

[door closes]

[music playing]

[gunfire]

I'm hit.

Sarge, I'm hit.

Where are the choppers?

When do the choppers get here?

Oh, God!

When do the choppers get here?

[helicopter engine roaring]

[MISSILES FIRING AND

EXPLODING]

EXPLODING]

EXPLODING]

Come on, Ted.

Timmy.

Timmy is that you?

Don't try to talk.

We're going to get you out of here.

Tim, I never knew it you.

You were delirious then.

How could you remember?

Timmy, you gotta get me out of here

I will.

I will. Come on, buddy.

We're going home.

We're going home.

[gunfire]

[kaboom]

Home.

I'm going home.

I'm going home.

I'm going home.

I'm going home.

[crickets chirping]

Gary, wake up.

Come on. Up and at 'em.

Wake up.

[yells]

All right.

All right, take it easy.

(STUTTERING) What are you doing here?

Who are you?

I'm the guy who talked to you the other day

about the scholarship fund.

Oh, you got to be crazy coming in here like this.

I'm calling the cops.

Gary, Gary, Gary, look.

Oh, don't start anything with me.

I'm warning you.

Gary, will you look?

See that?

You're still asleep.

I'm having a dream about you, that's all.

You're having a dream about me?

Right.

Well, get out of my--

get out of my house.

I'm trying to have a dream about Christie Brinkley over here.

You want to have a dream, do it in your own place.

This is my place.

I don't want to dream about you.

I don't want to dream about you,

but evidently Jonathan does.

Who's Jonathan?

That's a long story.

This is a short dream.

Come on.

GARY: Where?

To you're draft board.

That's my closet, you jerk.

Not tonight.

Come on.

Let's go.

You recognize that young fellow over there?

Get your draft notice too?

No, uh, they want to ask me about my student deferment.

Yeah, that's me when I was 18.

Hey, how'd you do that?

Never mind.

Just listen.

Didn't we have a biology class together?

Yeah, student deferment, huh?

What did you get, a football scholarship?

Yeah, sort of.

What do you mean, sort of?

Uh, I got--

I got a couple of scholarships.

You football jocks make me sick, you know?

Just because you can throw a ball around,

they're not going to draft your butt.

I'm engaged to be married.

Think that means anything?

I don't know.

Does it?

No way.

I'm history, man.

They're going to ship my butt to Vietnam.

It isn't fair.

You're right.

That's not fair.

Well, hey, uh, don't lose any beauty sleep over it,

all right?

You know, because while you're out there dating

sorority girls, I'm going to be over there

in those rice paddies.

That isn't fair.

Timothy Charles, Jr.

That's-- that's me.

RECRUITER: Would you step over to the table, please?

Who knows, uh, maybe you'll get lucky

and someone will volunteer.

Fat chance.

I'm history, man.

So is my marriage.

Now do you recognize him?

Yeah, that's right.

He was in the draft board that day.

That's right, with a student deferment in his pocket.

Guess he never used it.

You mean, he--

That's right.

He went in your place.

See you around, Lucky.

I never knew.

I swear to you.

I never knew.

I never knew.

Gary?

What?

Are you all right?

Well, yeah.

I guess I was just dreaming.

Miss Foley.

Miss Foley.

Uh, don't-- don't be afraid, ma'am.

This is just a dream.

Oh, it's you.

That's right.

Jonathan?

Yeah?

This is a dream?

That's right.

Oh, my, I haven't had a dream like this in a long time.

A dream like what?

Oh, don't be coy, big boy.

There may be snow on the roof, but there's

still heat in the furnace.

Miss Foley, I'm afraid that isn't that kind of a dream.

Oh, what a shame.

Where's Queenie Jr.

She hasn't been born yet.

What?

This is a dream about Queenie, Sr.

Queenie, Sr. Oh, is she in my dream?

You bet she is.

She was just a puppy.

Come on.

Dream's right outside.

It's awfully bright.

Your eyes will get used to it a second.

Where's my Queenie?

Oh, she's been gone for years.

Hey, remember when she was a pup, how she

used to run away all the time?

Why, yes, she was a naughty girl.

You remember the time she ran away and didn't

come back for a long, long time

Yes.

Yes, I remember now.

There was an accident.

She-- she was hurt.

And-- and somebody called me, a little boy.

TIMMY: Here she is, Miss Foley.

You naughty girl.

What happened?

She ran out in front of this car.

It hit her and kept right on going.

I took her to the vet.

He said she's going to be OK.

You did that?

Yeah, she's a real sweet pup.

She's an awfully lucky pup that someone like

you was around to help her.

What's your name? - Timmy.

Timmy Charles.

We live down the street.

Well, Timmy Charles, you saved my baby's life.

And I'll never forget it.

Ah, that's OK.

What's her name, anyway?

Queenie.

Queenie, huh, well, if she ever has any pups,

I'd sure like to have one.

I'll remember that Timmy Charles.

I surely will.

OK.

Bye bye, Queenie.

Bye, Miss Foley.

Now do you remember?

That was the boy.

But he's too young to be a soldier.

He grew up.

I tried to find him when she had her litter,

but they moved away.

To the other side of town.

I should have remembered him.

Tell me how to help the others--

the other children.

This is only a dream.

You can't help them in a dream.

[thunder crashing]

I have to go now.

Goodbye, Miss Foley.

No, but I want to.

Please tell me how I can help them.

Tell me how I can help them.

[dog whines]

JONATHAN: Good morning.

Oh, morning.

What's so good about it?

Oh, I don't know.

It seems like a kind of morning where everything's good,

that's all. - Well, maybe for you.

I had a miserable night.

I told you, I can't sleep with the lights on.

Mark, come on.

If you weren't asleep last night, somebody snuck

into your room at a buzz saw.

Here. - What's this?

It's the names and numbers of all the people we have

to call about the gathering.

What people?

What gathering?

The people who are going to contribute to the Tim

Charles, Jr. Scholarship Fund.

Jonathan, that is a group numbering zero.

I mean, nobody wants to contribute.

I wouldn't be so sure.

And start with Gary.

Give him a call, and tell him we're

all going to get together at the hangar at 3

o'clock this afternoon.

I have already talked to Gary, just like all the others.

None of them remember.

[knocking]

Oh, hi, Miss Foley.

Hello, Mr. Gordon.

I'm looking for-- oh, there he is.

Uh, Mr. Smith, I--

I remember that boy after all.

No, I don't understand.

You come into my office and you tell me

you want me to give $10,000 to this scholarship fund

because you had some kind of a nightmare.

That's right.

I do.

Son, you've been having nightmares

ever since you got back.

But this was different.

It started out like it was going to be the same.

I was hit.

My squad leader kept saying that the choppers

couldn't get to us.

And just like all the other times,

I felt someone holding me.

I was delirious.

I don't even remember being in the chopper.

And there was always this face.

And I could never make it out.

Except last night, I saw him.

It was this kid that I went to high school with.

I know it was him.

I never knew that before, but I know it now.

He was the one who took me out of there.

It was Tim.

It was Tim Charles, Dad.

[footsteps approaching]

I figured I might find you here.

Oh, sorry, Jonathan.

I-- I must have been daydreaming or something.

I feel so tired today, kind of fogged in, you know?

Look, you still have a lot of Tim's stuff over in the hangar.

You want me to give you a hand getting it home?

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, thanks.

I-- I could use some help.

Thank you.

[door squeaks open]

[clapping]

Wh-- what's going on here?

They remember Tim, all of them.

Go on.

[clapping continues]

I-- I don't quite know what to say.

All-- these last few days I--

I decided the world didn't give a damn whether my son

Tim was ever here or not.

But I can see today that I was wrong, very wrong.

I want to apologize for all the things I felt about you,

but-- but try to understand that Tim was my son.

And, uh--

We're the ones that ought to apologize.

We're the ones that turned our backs, not only on your son,

but on the sons of so many.

Tim-- Tim, your boy saved my son's life.

He fought for us.

He didn't have to.

He felt it was his duty.

He made me remember what a precious thing a child is.

He was filled with love.

Let's make sure that that kind of love isn't forgotten.

Let's make this scholarship fund in his name a way

to keep his memory alive.

[applause]

I can't believe it.

Got to see the size of this fund.

It's unbelievable.

Tim, you all right?

Oh, yeah, I'm--

I'm just a little tired.

I sure wish my son could have seen this today.

I'm sure he did.

Yeah.

You want me to drive you home?

You ought to get some rest.

No, I'm all right.

I want to go out to the plane just for a little while.

Want me to wait for you?

No, that's OK.

Thanks for everything.

Jonathan, is he all right?

He will be.

[wind blowing]

[engine sputtering]

[engine sputtering]

Jonathan.

How you doing, Tim?

What-- what's going on?

Am I dreaming?

No, you're not dreaming.

I must be.

I mean, because this old plane doesn't work.

There are no propellers.

There's-- what is this?

Your last mission.

What are you talking about?

I'm talking about touching the face of God.

You mean that I--

Yeah.

Then there is something.

There is.

You bet there is.

Come on.

Let's go.

Well, check.

Maggie's Pride to tower, requesting clearance

to take off on runway--

Tim, you already got clearance.

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, I-- I see what you mean.

Yeah, this-- this is great, Jonathan.

This old plane never handled like this.

I mean, this all crate--

Oh, yeah.

I guess I got to go the rest of the way all alone.

TIMMY: What are you talking about alone?

Timmy.

We're going home now, Pop.

Going home.

[music playing]