An opening narration by Narrator frames the world as a network of distant U.S. outposts, each guarded by diligent sentinels watching over their scopes of duty. The film then centers on a tiny Pacific island outpost, where, under a single palm tree, stands the lone sentinel, Pvt. Snafu. His only companion is a local bird, and the two share a quiet, comic tension as Snafu laments his long spell of idleness.
Snafu’s chatter is thick with boredom: he’s been on this island for 249 days without participating in any fighting, and a radio message confirms that his 249th request for a transfer has been denied. The sense of stagnation colors the mood, and the bird offers a foil to Snafu’s grumbling, providing both distraction and a touch of mischief.
That night, Snafu and the bird drift into sleep and dream of girls, but their dreams collide in a goofy, tangled fashion. The dream sequence wakes the irate sentinel, who threatens to break the bird for insubordination. In response, the bird—a practical if dim helper—fumbles upon a floating can of food, bursting with curiosity and hunger. He discovers the contents are titled “Pickled Fish Eyes with Rice,” a finding that disgusts him, nearly sending the can back into the sea until he notices the bottom text: “Hon. K Ration Imperial Japanese Navy.” The bird’s discovery becomes a comic touchstone in the day’s proceedings, a detail that will unexpectedly matter later.
Meanwhile, U.S. military observers are tracking a Japanese task force by plotting reference points, but the observation posts soon lose the fleet’s exact location. The higher-ups scramble to gather full reports, and Snafu is pressed to participate. He dutifully recites his day’s seemingly mundane entries from his logbook, and, when the antennae of command catch on the tin-can detail, they order him to repeat the exact entry and confirm its description. The bird digs up the fry of the mystery can, and Snafu’s report expands to include the can’s food label and the Japanese information gleaned from it. In a swift turn of events, American bombers descend and neutralize the Japanese fleet, delivering a decisive victory that passes almost entirely over Snafu’s head.
As night falls, the pair sits on their tiny beach, the island silent around them, with Snafu still missing the broader significance of the day’s events. He voices his perpetual boredom once more, staring out toward the sea as the sun sinks, and mutters the same perplexing refrain: “Pickled fish eyes with rice; I don't get it. Wouldn't you think they could find something important for me to do in this here army?” He flings the tin can into the ocean as the scene settles into quiet finality.
