All language subtitles for SAS.Rogue.Heroes.S02E03.REPACK.1080p.AMZN.WEBRip.DDP5.1.X264-FLUX

I was given orders to break
bread with the Resistance

and the people known
as the Cosa Nostra.

Incoming!

This breakfast
was not my idea.

But it has taught me a lesson.

Be selective about
the orders that you obey.

The next stage of this war
is invasion.

Taking territory
inch by inch.

It is the SRS who are
spearheading the operation.

I'm going to move closer
to the frontline.

Your plan is to join
my brother in Sicily.

I want you to write to him
and I want you to tell him

to accept me and help me.

After the attack
on Cannizzaro,

you will embark
for the mainland.

This is just the snout.

It is our job
to take the whole hog,

right the way up to the tail.

A whole new detachment
is being deployed to Augusta.

It is called 2SAS.

So, the name SAS
is stolen for your own use.

Can I invite you to
welcome back my good friend,

my conscience,
and my voice of reason?

Staff Sergeant Jimmy Almonds!

I'm looking
for a man of the cloth.

And I am also looking
for a stolen donkey.

Jawohl.

Heil Hitler.

Nein! Nein!

♪ I've got the wind
at my back ♪

♪ And my foot to the floor ♪

♪ I ain't comin' back
to you no more... ♪

♪ I'm sick of your shit
and your moaning whine ♪

♪ I'm leaving for good,
come rain or shine ♪

♪ You can cry me a river ♪

♪ Cry me a river of tears ♪

So, we're getting
pretty good at this.

Paddy doesn't want to be
fucking good at this, lad.

What does he want to be
fucking good at?

He wants to be good
at what we used to do before.

Before you begin...

where do you stand as regards
to the invasion of your country

and my role in it?

Mussolini.

Il Duce.

What do you think of him?

Erm... Mussolini...

Mussolini...

Next question.

As a barber,

how would you feel
if somebody ordered you

to stop cutting hair
and start baking bread?

My English, not so good.

Flour and water...

and salt and fucking ovens
and early fucking starts.

You would say,

"I am trained
to cut a man's hair,

not bake him fucking buns."

You would say, "I am trained
to shave a man's face,

not feed it fucking cakes."

You would say,
"You could get anybody

to get fucking mush
all over their hands.

What I want is
an open razor

so that I can do the work that
I am uniquely qualified for."

Do... do you want oil?

No, I don't want oil.

I want rum and omelettes,

and an open desert.

And I want my friend back.

That's what I want.

Always tell your troubles
to someone

who has no idea
what you are talking about.

- Is that your blue jacket?
- Yeah.

I would like
to purchase it from you.

Last night, when we arrived
in your wee, little town,

there was a welcoming party.
Germans.

We had a disagreement as to
the ownership of your country.

My own jacket is now so soaked
in blood as to be unwearable.

I shall be
my fucking self.

Ooh!

♪ Moi quand je sens
qu'on me regarde ♪

♪ Ca y est
je ne peux plus bouger ♪

♪ Et si l'on attend
que je parle ♪

♪ D'un seul coup
ma gorge est serrée ♪

Did they take
any prisoners?

No. The SAS boys
dispatched everyone.

There were
no prisoners taken.

As you've seen
they used... cutlery.

When the fighting is arm's
length, what do you expect?

Stories go around among
the regular soldiers

about the SAS boys
who go in first.

They're actually SRS.
What stories?

That they're... wild men.
No rules, you know.

Let's try and avoid relaying
any idle gossip about

mad men and savages
to anyone,

especially not her.

She's a journalist and a spy.

No, sir. 'Course not, sir,
and anyway,

the stories are told
with a sense of... admiration.

Well, yes.
There is much to be admired.

- Get those bodies covered up.
- Yes, sir.

Lieutenant-Colonel
Bill Stirling, 2SAS.

We missed each other
in Sicily.

You mean, you avoided me

and ignored my request
for an interview.

I don't really do interviews.
Rather busy fighting a war.

- I knew your brother in Cairo.
- Yes.

And because
he is my brother,

he told me absolutely
nothing about you.

He finds impractical things
impossible to talk about.

But when he thought
you were dead,

he came to my apartment,

and he was as unlike himself
as I have ever seen him.

"Unlike himself."

I mean, he...
he was quite upset.

"Quite upset."

You sound like him.

It's all rather awful in there.

I don't think you want to see
things you can't then unsee.

Right.

It all looks quite gruesome,
but these encounters

almost always end
with hand to hand.

Where is Paddy Mayne?
And how do I get to him?

How do you "get" to him?

I have accreditation
to report from combat zones.

Look, we both know
who you are.

You're a spy
for the Free French.

I really don't need
anybody's help to reach him.

You're here to relay news
on the invasion

to the Free French
Government-in-exile.

And the news will be
wherever Paddy Mayne is,

not where you are.

Miss Mansour,

I'll have one of my men
take you back to the harbour.

I have dead German soldiers
to identify, bodies to bury,

photographs of loved ones
to collate

and send to the Red Cross.

It can be work that is quite
troublesome to the soul.

And I'm afraid
Paddy Mayne and his men

are strictly out of bounds
to journalists

and reporters of any sort.

Your brother really didn't tell
you anything about me, did he?

[tense music playing

Colonel.

Sir.

Colonel Stirling.

You've applied to take part
in tomorrow's escape attempt

and yet you've only
been here for three months.

Three months.
Yes, quite right.

Not only have I counted
every single brick in my cell,

- I've also given them names.
- As I am sure you understand...

There's a long queue
of prisoners

who want to escape
from this place,

and a long list of men
who need to escape

and a handful who
simply cannot countenance

spending another single day
locked up in here.

And then there is me.

And as you can see, I am
a wildly, madly special case.

There are occasionally

exceptional circumstances
in which...

Certain prisoners are invited
to take part in escape attempts

ahead of the queue
if they can prove

that their escape would--I think
in your manifesto, it says,

"If the prisoner's freedom
and return to active service

would significantly help
the execution of the war."

Well, gentlemen, my unit

is currently spearheading
the invasion of Italy

and is in the very... capable
hands of my brother Bill.

But, you see,
when we were young,

I always stole the bike
and won the race,

and got the girl
and scrumped the most apples.

And I really do believe

that I can make substantial
and significant improvements

to the execution of the campaign
to liberate Italy

and, my God, if you do not
add me to the top of your list,

I will walk out of my cell,
stroll across the courtyard,

walk right up to the gates,
tell the guards to fuck off...

in Italian.

I will then be shot...

and it will be your fault.

- ♪ Everybody sing ♪
- ♪ Hey! ♪

♪ We are Sparta FC! ♪

Fraser.

Tonkin. Letter.

♪ When I give you
something to slaughter ♪

♪ There is a Jack knife
going up the hill ♪

♪ Where it is going,
I don't tell ♪

♪ But by hook or by crook ♪

- Postman.
- Beware of the dog.

♪ I'll get it back here,
shepherd boy ♪

- ♪ Hey! ♪
- ♪ Everybody sing ♪

♪ Hey! ♪

♪ Me and my be my toy ♪

♪ Come and have a bet ♪

♪ Hey, we live on blood ♪

♪ We are Sparta FC ♪

♪ And take your fleecy jumper,
you won't need it anymore ♪

♪ It is in the car boot
moving away ♪

♪ 'Cause where you are going,
clothes won't help ♪

♪ We are Sparta FC ♪

That sign there says
SAS members only,

but you can sign in
as a guest.

I am a fucking member.

You know, I blame my mother,

but I cannot get used to not
being able to wash my hands

in these nasty little places.

Fucking salute me,
damn you, Sergeant!

Actually, I made him
a lieutenant.

Where are
his bloody pips?

Where are
your bloody pips, Johnny?

On my tunic.

And--and where is
your bloody tunic?

It's covered in blood, Colonel.

That will be all.

You came to say well done.

- GHQ are cock-a-hoop.
- "Cock-a-hoop."

Well, I am
cock-a-doodle-fucking-do

that they are cock-a-hoop.

"Tolerate Paddy Mayne's
eccentricities

in return for exceptional
results on the battlefield."

That's my instruction
from GHQ.

But you're getting close
to saying "fuck it"

and taking a swing.

Who am I to you, Paddy?

Your headmaster?

The headmaster at my school
was my friend.

He gave me cigarettes.

Or some figure
of authority?

You remind me
of the gamekeeper

who broke
my homemade fishing rod,

and I broke
his homemade arm.

Why are you wearing
a blue jacket?

I paid handsomely for it.

None of your men
are wearing uniform.

Aye. You see, sir, what happens
when you storm a bunker

full of Germans
with your bayonet fixed,

in that brief but energetic
wee dance that follows,

you tend to get quite a bit
of blood on your clothes.

Some of it your own,
but mostly German blood.

Either one tends to stain

your regulation issue clothing
quite badly.

So, you have to go shopping.

Have you boys of SAS number two
had the call to go shopping yet,

or are your uniforms
still just dandy?

There is a woman.
A journalist.

Aye, your brother just
wrote to me about her.

What did my brother say?

His personal communication
with me remains private.

It's the French woman
he was fucking in Cairo.

His description was
a touch more poetic.

This woman must not be allowed
anywhere near the front line

and must not be privy
to any details

of the strategy
of our advance.

Oh, I'd say the strategy is
plain for anyone to see anyway.

You throw the SAS
at the enemy defences

like a hand full of gravel.

You use the SAS

the way you would use any
conventional Commando unit,

with no regard
to our particular skills.

Italy is not
the Great Sand Sea, Paddy.

There are civilians here--
men, women and children,

and I do not trust you
and your "members only"

to display your particular
skills among innocent people.

You don't trust me
with innocent people?

I don't trust you
to draw the line,

knowing which lives
to spare,

knowing which houses
to blow to pieces

and which houses
to drive around,

knowing the difference
between enemy and friend

and all those in between.

Nothing I have seen or heard
about you and your men...

gives me any reason
to trust you.

So, the gravel will
continue to be thrown.

Yes.

The gravel
will continue to be thrown.

You will continue
to be a spearhead force.

And your next operation
starts tonight.

Your job is to liberate
Termoli from the Germans,

taking out the rearguard
at various points along the way.

The Italian Resistance
and Riley

will be sent ahead
to reconnoitre the town,

take out a spy
and clear the station.

Shit.

Your papers were forged
by British S.O.E.

You'll be okay.

Just act like a normal husband

and let your wife
do the talking.

Sì.

They talk strange.
Not like Termoli people.

Where are they from?

She sounds Sicilian.

Their papers say
they are from Campomorino,

but they sound Sicilian.

Am I wrong?

Mmm.

Mm-hmm.

I say we let the others go
and hold her for more questions.

Let them pass.

Ciao amica.

Lui.

No!

Ehi! Ehi! Fermo!

So, you decided to try charm.

We got off
on the wrong foot.

- Mmm.
- Please.

- That is the expression, yes?
- Yes.

The smell of blood
and the proximity of corpses

probably didn't help.

You appear to have opened
your own restaurant.

The people in the local café
are very grateful to the British

that their business
wasn't destroyed.

Though most of their
wine was stolen by Paddy's men.

Well, luckily, it seems
they left behind the good stuff,

because Paddy knows nothing
but poitín and Guinness.

Was my brother in love
with you, do you think?

Or should the question be,

"Is my brother in love
with you"?

Love doesn't really
suit him.

Well, he was always
very jealous of his possessions.

He had an air rifle I used
to use on purpose to annoy him.

Am I a possession?

- I'm quite blunt sometimes.
- And tired.

- You look very tired.
- Yes.

Doing nothing and achieving
nothing can be very tiring.

What exactly
do you want from me?

I hear Paddy Mayne
is heading for Termoli.

Yes?

It is my job.

It's what I do. By the way,
do I call you William or Bill?

Bill.

I prefer William.

Before Termoli,

Paddy will have to overcome
the German rearguard.

Yes. When the sun sets...

God help the rearguard.

Looks like some
of them are moving out.

Are you coming with us
on this little jolly, Paddy,

or are you gonna stay
and wash your feet?

I have decided
to be more human.

I have decided to communicate
with my human body, my flesh,

since I am not a machine.

I am not a killing machine. They
cannot put that against my name.

To send men to die like cattle
is not my human purpose.

I am human fighting human.

And I draw the line in the sand
with my human feet.

And I draw that line pretty
fucking well, if I may say!

Pretty fucking well.

You okay, Paddy?

"What passing-bells
for these who die as cattle?

Only the monstrous anger
of the guns.

Only the stuttering
rifles' rapid rattle...

can patter out
their hasty orisons.

No mockeries now for them;

no prayers nor bells."

Fuck.

Fuck, I forgot the words.

I never forget the words.

Can you believe it?

They're blowing poetry
out of my head

and replacing it
with men screaming.

Paddy?

Have they cut the wire?

Seekings hooted like an owl,
so they're in position.

So let's clean
the fuckers out.

Clear!

Ya beauty.

Silenzio!

Watch out for the rats.

What?

Off you go.

Right.

Right.

Jesus!

Bloody size of that one. Christ!

Oh!

♪ Caressing,
bent up to the jug again ♪

♪ With sheaths and pills
invading all those stills ♪

♪ In a hovel of a bed
I will scream in vain ♪

♪ Oh, please, Miss Lane,
leave me with some pain ♪

Hey!

♪ Went walking through
this city's neon lights ♪

♪ In fear of disguising ♪

♪ My warping seething
pressure lines ♪

♪ Among confidant heirs ♪

♪ Intangible of price ♪

Aah!

Bang. He was out cold.

And my father
cut his hand free and, er,

left him in the snow. Yeah.

You left him?

Do you think he has another
bottle of the same wine?

Scusi.

- Who found him?
- Hm?

Who found him?
Who found David in the snow?

- You said he was unconscious.
- Oh God, I don't remember.

My sister, I think.

You see, the ethos
of the family was,

you are responsible
for your own actions.

Hmm. You're also responsible
for your own inaction.

When will your new unit
be ready?

Oh, you're very good,
aren't you?

At what?

2SAS will be ready
for its first engagement

with enemy forces
in five days' time.

Location classified.

Subsequent comparisons between
1SAS, formed by my brother,

and 2SAS, formed by me,
will be strictly forbidden.

I think I understand your
relationship with your brother.

- I have a younger sister.
- Oh, please, please, please.

Spare me the strategies,

particularly those that imitate
empathy and understanding.

I deserve no empathy
sitting here drinking wine

when the real work's
being done away from here

by a man who drinks poitín.

He's firing at shadows, Paddy.

He's buggered.

Offer him surrender.

I just remembered the words.

"Nor any voice of mourning,
save the choirs.

The shrill, demented choirs
of wailing shells."

No, no, no grenades, Paddy!

Hold your fire!
Hold your fire.

I surrender!

I surrender! Please!

- He's coming out.
- I surrender!

- "What candles..."
- Easy, Paddy, easy.

"...may be held
to speed them all?"

- Easy, Paddy.
- "Not in the hands of boys,

but in their eyes shall shine
the holy glimmers of goodbyes."

I am a captain
of the Panzergrenadier division.

And I surrender.

I have a comrade in there
badly wounded.

He...

He--he is my brother.

M... my younger brother.

M... My dear brother.

He... He will not live.

He... he is in great pain.

I... I tried, but I cannot
do it by myself.

Please.

An... an act of mercy.

He... he's laying
in the straw.

Condemn his mortal soul
to God.

"The pallor
of girls' brows...

be their pall.

Their flowers
the tenderness...

of patient minds.

And each slow dusk...

the drawing-down of blinds."

Es tut mir Leid.

We've got rum.

Come on.

It's been
an odd evening,

as if they stopped
the war for us.

Not for us, of course,
I don't mean it like that.

Sometimes you can stop the war
in your mind for a few hours.

I've had more wine tonight

than I've had
in a long time.

Though my brother would
have had twice as much

and been perfectly sober.

You said you would have
someone brief me

on the progress
of the war.

That would be helpful.

Helpful.

But still,
you'll want more.

Of course.

Always I will want more.

Good night, William.

Un mese di isolamento.

♪ Gotta gotta gettaway! ♪

♪ Gotta gotta
gettaway! ♪

Reggie, Jimmy
put the radio together.

Get a signal.

McDiarmid,
break open the rum.

Fraser, light a fire, brew up.

All the rum
we brought from Cairo

we finished off with that
fucking German officer

who wouldn't stop sobbing.

But we do have
Italian grappa.

Fuck's sake.

The rest of you,

prepare your weapons
and write letters home.

We go tonight.

According to
my Baedeker guide of 1930,

there are two
good restaurants in Termoli.

I reckon
they'll close pretty sharpish

when we get there then.

Where'd you get
a Baedeker guide from, anyway?

I found it in Augusta,

when we were
hanging around,

waiting for the order
to move out.

Waiting for orders.

Before the war, I'd never
been further than Margate.

I'm looking
forward to France.

I think France will be nice.

How do you know
we're going to France?

That's the word from
GHQ. They're gonna send us--

Will you shut
your fucking holes?!

Talking like fucking soldiers!

- We are soldiers, Paddy.
- Soldiers waiting to be told,

like a handful of soldiers
waiting to be thrown,

wondering where
they'll send us next.

We were talking about
restaurants actually, Paddy.

Aye, youse were talking like
ordinary fucking soldiers!

Come on. Calm down, Paddy,
have a wee drink.

GHQ did say communication
would be at four o'clock,

and it's four o'clock.

Paddy?

If GHQ said
you should do it, then...

just fucking do it.

Kersh.

Right.

Okay, password. Blunt...

approach, zero class,
rum and eggs.

It's Riley.
Yeah, he's okay.

GHQ password,
salt, pepper, gra--

Okay, Paddy,
you have one minute

until our signal's
tracked and located.

Riley, just tell me about
tonight's entertainment.

Alright, we walked
down main street.

They are not expecting us.
It's defended but not fortified.

No field artillery except

a couple of light howitzers
covering the main route.

Most of the defensive positions
are near the bell tower.

In the centre, there's

a 20-mm AA gun position with
a couple of MGs on AA mounts.

Roadblock at the southern
entrance, machine guns nearby.

We saw at least
one Panzer there.

But evidence of multiple tracked
vehicles heading out of town,

most likely other tanks.

But, Paddy, the bad news is

half the soldiers in town
have flashes on their uniforms.

But the good news is,
I've cleared the station.

Triangulation
of our position will be

complete in ten seconds.

Tell the Resistenza
we move up from the south.

- Seven, six.
- Nineteen-0-five-hundred.

- Five, four, three.
- Riley, find some fucking rum.

Two, one.

All right.

Yeah.

Gather round, lads.

Riley has reconnoitred the town.

This mission
will not be about hardware.

We will be a surprise,

so there will be no
heavy artillery

or tanks to meet us.

This will be about soldiers.

The locals have been told
to hunker down

and make themselves safe.

The Resistance are moving in
with Riley as we speak.

Half the soldiers in Termoli
wear a flash on their arms,

which says they are veterans
of the Cretan campaign,

which means they'll be
very good at what they do.

So, we will have to be better.

Highway 16.
Termoli Campomarino Road.

Head north until you reach
the Campomarino bridge.

Blow it up.

Ja!

Okay. So, Alessia,
there is an SAS tradition.

You keep a head count of all
the hardware you destroy.

- Oh, yeah?
- Yeah, but since you're not SAS,

I guess you can leave
this one to me.

I don't think so.

Engage! Engage!

Riley?!

Move!

What's the craic?

Well, I told
our Italian friends here

you'd be here
at five minutes past.

So, we got started without you.

I don't have Italian friends.

Riley, I swear you're fucking
following this woman around.

'Ere are, Jock, try and resist
your natural Scottish instinct

to run at them with your tongue
out, all right?

- Fuck you!
- For reasons that baffle me,

Paddy still needs you alive.

Covering fire!

Reckon he's got
a death wish or what?

Or whisky?

- Or some kind of bravery.
- And that.

And being Scottish.

Hey! Hi! Hello.

My name is McDiarmid. You?

- No English!
- Good!

- I fucking hate the English.
- Paddy!

Flank the fuckers, now!

Go! Go!

- Hold position!
- Get down, get down, get down!

Fuck!

- McDiarmid!
- Fuck it!

Fucking wait!

Hold, hold.

Wait.

You two, take point.
On the alley.

- Now! Go, go, go!
- Move up!

- Don't you fucking die!
- On me!

Keep your head
against the wall!

Move!

Position secure!

Jock, fucking move!
Fucking move!

Keep pushed on the wall,
on the wall!

- Move up, move up!
- Covering!

Moving!

Move up! Move up!

'Ere, I hope this piano
isn't a Stradivarius, Paddy.

Stradivarius made violins,
Reg.

Don't fuck about. Don't...

Fucking hell!

Move up! Move up!

Get in there! Get in there!

- Move in!
- Arsehole! You arsehole!

Covering fire!
Covering fire!

Move forward!

Hande hoch! Hande hoch!

Hold your fire!
Hold your fucking fire!

Please, don't shoot!

- Keep your eyes peeled, lads!
- Fucking move it!

Hands up!

- Are they gone?
- Aye, they're gone!

Surrendering!

Right, men, round them up.

Let's go. Let's fucking go!
Come on, come on.

- Normal rules apply.
- Move! Move!

If they cry, be nice.

But do not tolerate
any arrogance.

And then, remembering
traditional procedure

with regard to company morale,

the commanding officer praised
his men for their competence.

Aye, youse did all right.

Well done, lads!

Well done.

Tu, mi fai schifo, bastardo!

Keep moving, come on!
Keep moving.

Quick, come on.

None of these soldiers
who surrendered are wearing

the insignia of the Cretan
campaign on their arms.

Yep. The Resistenza said
they saw some soldiers

heading north
in organised units.

So, the real fellas made
a tactical withdrawal.

Which means they'll regroup
and counterattack.

Most probably tonight.

I fear this liberation party
may be a wee bit premature.

Take cover!

Get down!

Move!

Move! Move! Move!

Fucking move! Byron!

Do we know how
they got away?

Yeah, they were seen crossing
the Campomarino bridge.

Fuck!

I know you're
relatively new to the SAS,

but traditionally,
in situations

where the odds are overwhelming
and victory is impossible,

we have one simple order.

- May I?
- Well, do it!

Every man for himself!

Oh! Fuck it.

Halt! Hande hoch!

Hande hoch!

Was machst du hier?

Forward!

Lieutenant
John Elliot Tonkin.

200156, First SAS.

Attached to Eighth Army.

I am offering my surrender.

The famous SAS, huh?

Commando, yes?

I hear SAS
like to drink rum.

Come, my friend.
We have rum.

Didn't understand
a word you were saying.

If your appearance here

is because I am concussed

and sick in the head,

then please...

please, God,
do not make me well.

Walls are thick,
cellars are deep

and we have radio communications
so we can call for help.

Johnny.

- No Tonkin?
- No.

No sign of him.

Walls and masonry
fit for fortification.

I knew you'd like it.

The reason the shelling
has stopped

is because they are moving
their Panzer tank divisions

to the edge of the town.

They will make their move
tonight or tomorrow.

But our orders are
to take Termoli

and hold it to the last man,
come what may.

And that is exactly
what we are going to do.

And there is no point
calling for help

because there isn't any.

All we are...

is a handful of gravel.

♪ Generous ♪

♪ Valeric ♪

♪ Jehovah's ♪

♪ Witness ♪

♪ Stands ♪

♪ In ♪

♪ Cologne ♪

♪ Marktplatz ♪

♪ Drums ♪

♪ Come in ♪

♪ When the drums come in fast ♪

♪ Drums ♪

♪ To shock ♪

♪ Into brass ♪

♪ Evil ♪