LATE 1942. THE SAHARA DESERT
SILENCE. THE DESERT seen from the air. An ocean of dunes for mile after mile. The late sun turns the sand every color from crimson to black and makes the dunes look like bodies pressed against each other.
An old AIRPLANE is flying over the Sahara. Its shadow swims over the contours of sand.
A woman's voice begins to sing---Szerelem, szerelem, she cries in a haunting lament for hex loved one.
INSIDE the airplane are two figures. One, A WOMAN, seems to be asleep. Her pale head rests against the side of the cockpit. Behind her THE PILOT, a man, wears goggles and a leather helmet. He is singing, too, but we can't hear him or the plane or anything save the singer's plaintive voice.
The plane shudders over a ridge. Beneath it A SUDDEN CLUSTER OF MEN AND MACHINES, camouflage nets draped over the sprawl of gasoline tanks and armored vehicles. An OFFICER, GERMAN, focuses his field glasses. The glasses pick out the MARKINGS on the plane. They are in English. An ANTI-AIRCRAFT GUN swivels furiously.
Shocking bursts of GUNFIRE. Explosions rock the plane, which lurches violently. The fuel tank is punctured. It sprays out gasoline, then ERUPTS IN FLAME.
THE MAN FALLS OUT OF THE SKY, clinging to his dead lover. They are both ON FIRE. She is wrapped in a parachute silk and it burns fiercely. He looks up to see the flames licking at his own parachute as it carries them slowly to earth. The man makes no sound as the flames erase all that matters--his name, his past, his face, his lover....