Original subtitles

For eight months at Tobruk in 1941,

15,000 Australians and 8,000 British and Indian troops

held a German army seven times their number

and in seven times their armor.

The Germans, understanding machines, but not these men,

flung an insult to them in a name.

The Rats of Tobruk.

This insult they carried on their bayonets

right into the ranks of the oncoming Germans hordes.

It has become one of the finest epitaphs of the war.

To these men, who could never be driven

from their fighting posts before Rommel,

we pay homage.

The Rats of Tobruk.

This was the land they left to fight for.

A land of hill and plain and rivers running free.

Receiving the stumbling herd in cool waters

where the quiet air cracks to the stock whips

and the cattle cries.

Peter Linton, a young English writer,

came to study this peaceful land

won by conquering people toughened by adversity,

to catch their adventure,

share their comradeship,

and to join in their songs.

♪ Wrap me up in my stockwhip and blanket ♪

♪ And bury me deep down below ♪

♪ Where the dingoes and crows can't molest me ♪

♪ In the place where the coolibahs grow ♪

♪ There's tea in the battered old billy ♪

♪ Put your pannikins all in a row ♪

♪ And drink to the health of the stockman ♪

♪ By the light where the coolibah grows ♪

While cattle droving,

Peter Linton met many men.

Not the least among them this man, Bluey Donkin,

the boss drover.

A tough, two-fisted friend to have around in a fight.

A man who discouraged favors because he asked for none.

♪ And drink to the health of the stockman ♪

♪ By the light where the coolibah grows ♪

This man makes up the trio.

Milo Trent.

Dingo hunter and cattle man.

Good-natured and easygoing.

They made a strange trio, these men,

the nature of which is not lost on Peter Linton

as he takes out his diary.

Somehow he felt that their destinies were linked together.

That he was already part of their life.

- Milo, what were the words of that poem you said to us

the other night?

- Which one?

- You know, the one about our foes,

and stock rail or something.

- And we swear by the dead who bore us,

and the heroes who blazed the trail,

no foe will gather our harvest

or sit on our stockyard rail.

- That's it.

- Aussie poet, Pete.

And now what's the story of all this scribbling of yours?

- Oh nothing much, just a story about cattle and mud,

and you fellows.

- Us?

Go on out of here.

- Yes, I'm collecting things.

Some of those words of yours, they're terrific.

Billabong, mulga, coolibah, gidgee.

There's poetry in those, you know.

- Yeah?

- Hi Bill.

- Hi Bill, how'd you get on?

- Not much luck, I've been out to lead for miles.

Country is dry as a bone.

Not enough water to bathe a hummingbird.

- Hmm, that's tough.

Looks like we'll have to go through Carmody's after all,

doesn't it. - Looks like it.

- Well you better take a spell in camp.

I'll ride over first thing in the morning

and see the old man myself.

- Good night, boss.

- See you later, Bill.

- Carmody's, eh?

Well it's a long time since we've been through that country.

- Is that a big place?

- Nah, not as they go around here.

But it's good country.

You ought to take a look at it, Pete.

One of the last of the old places.

Just a bit of old England.

My old man used to tell me about him.

Pretty proud mob, too.

Real strong on...

- Tradition? - Yeah, tradition.

And this new filly Kate Carmody, she's full of it.

- I wonder how that funny little blonde is down the Katrina.

Oh, she was a beaut, that one.

A good night to you blokes.

Good night.

- Of course.

Katrina blonde.

- I wonder what sort of girl he'll finally marry.

- Marry, why the girl ain't been born

that could get him to swap a featherbed for the open road.

What puzzles me is why he's going to Carmody's tomorrow.

- Oh, why?

- Ah, that's his story.

To me, Bluey Donkin's feminine relations

are a bit of a puzzle.

Anyway, next morning he went riding off

to the Carmody homestead.

He seemed reluctant, yet curiously anxious.

I wondered why.

- Bluey.

- Hello Kate, how are you?

- I'm all right, I mean I'm all right.

It's a long time since you've been through our country.

- Well, I'm still droving.

I need some water for my cattle.

- Oh.

Water, for your cattle.

That's why you came.

I see.

- Wait a minute, Kate.

Is there any reason why we can't meet like two sane people?

I mean, I wouldn't have come through your country

if I could have watered my cattle somewhere else.

- No? - No.

That is, there was no need to look at me

as if I had the plague.

I'll get my business fixed up with your dad and push on.

- You can't.

He's dead.

- Dead?

- Yes, three months ago.

- Terribly sorry, Kate.

Why didn't you send for me?

- There was no need, I managed.

You'd better talk to Stringy about your cattle

at dinner tonight.

- How did this happen?

- Oh, we had a bit of trouble with the cattle, boss.

His horse fell and rolled on him.

The rest of the boys are going to

try and bring the mob along in the morning.

- It'll be all right, you'll live.

Oh by the way this is our new chum, Peter Linton.

Kate Carmody.

- Hello.

I'm awfully sorry about this,

but I always seem to be getting into a mess.

Catastrophes always happened together,

here's me with a sprained ankle and the Old Country at war.

- Has it happened?

- Haven't you heard about it? - No.

- We got it from a bloke along the track.

He heard about it three days ago on the radio.

- Oh, it's just as well it has anyway.

Least we know where we stand now.

- Yes, it is a bit of a relief.

Still, I've got to get home to the Old Country now,

I've got to be in this show somewhere.

- You stick with us Pete, and you'll be in it quick enough.

- Yes, I could.

I've come a long way to write about you fellows.

- I suppose we will be in it soon, boss.

- There's nothing surer than that.

- Then this is our last drove.

- You bet your sweet life it is.

I wouldn't miss this for quids.

- Yes, Bluey will be in it.

He never misses anything, do you?

Just another paddock.

A nice, big one this time.

- Kate, you can't go on living here by yourself.

- I'm quite content. - Oh, rubbish.

- Bluey, would you please-- - Mind my own business I know.

- Well, what right have you-- - None.

You canceled that two years ago, didn't you.

Because I painted a few places red along the South Road.

Kate, has it ever struck you

that you're a bit mid-Victorian?

- I'm not interested in what you think about me.

I stopped being interested two years ago.

- Oh, a bit of a jag.

- Bit of a jag?

What about that girl at Catrina Downs?

Or the one at Augathella?

What about that, Bluey?

- What's so wrong about it?

- So wrong?

- What do you expect when a man's been out for days

and nights and weeks and months on a drove,

with nothing but curlews and howling dingoes.

Gets to the stage where he starts to see a woman's face

in the evening haze...

Oh, don't look so shocked about it, Kate.

Men are like that.

- Are they really like that, Bluey, really?

- Well, we weren't married, and you were miles away.

- Would have happened just the same

after we were married, Bluey.

You're that type of man.

Unstable, wild.

You'd never really belong to any one woman or any one place.

New faces and new paddocks, every new boundary line

would make you want to hop over the fence.

Just to see what was on the other side.

- All right, all right, you've got it all set.

I'm not the marrying kind.

Maybe you're right at that.

I do hate the thought of ties.

Till I met you.

And I used to think about you at night in the bush.

The thought of you nearly drove me crazy.

So I asked you to marry me.

You were right to turn me down.

You need a good solid bloke.

Someone that won't run amok every full moon.

- But Bluey, you didn't even ask me to forgive you.

- Come and sit over here.

Do you really want to know why?

I was afraid I'd do the same thing again.

Oh, I love you Kate.

- But not enough, Bluey.

- You could have locked me in the stable every full moon.

- It wouldn't work, Bluey, I know it wouldn't work.

It's better this way.

- I think you're wrong, Kate.

- No, I'm sure I'm right.

I'm sure.

Bluey Donkin rode away.

And didn't once look back.

But I felt that his assurance

had been shattered for the first time.

Weeks at the Carmody homestead, where Kate nursed me,

in a kind, impersonal way.

Then reunion with Bluey and Milo.

And with war upon us, I became an ANZAC.

In Libya we were soon helping to make newspaper headlines.

♪ We're off to see the wizard ♪

♪ The wonderful Wizard of Oz ♪

♪ You'll find he is a whiz of a wiz ♪

♪ If ever a wiz there was ♪

♪ If ever oh ever a wiz there was ♪

♪ The Wizard of Oz is one because ♪

♪ Because, because, because, because, because ♪

♪ Because of the wonderful things he does ♪

♪ We're off to see the wizard ♪

♪ The wonderful Wizard of Oz ♪

♪ We're off to see the wizard ♪

♪ The wonderful Wizard of Oz ♪

♪ We're off to see the wizard ♪

♪ The wonderful Wizard of Oz ♪

- Hey Peter?

Come here.

How about this for our headquarters, eh?

Pretty nifty.

- Oh, I couldn't possibly stay here, it's not ornate enough.

- Cop the bed will, you?

Looks like the top of a wedding cake.

- That's not a bed,

that's what Bleriot flew over the Channel in.

- Well, what are we waiting for, bring on the dancing girls.

- All things to my great content, and so to bed.

- Don't!

You idiot, what do you think you're doing,

it might have been a booby trap.

- Oh, been no explosion so far.

You know this is the first thing I've seen

that looks anything like Cleopatra

since I came to this country.

- It's a step in the right direction, isn't it?

- Mark Antony?

Marky?

Mark Antony?

Or any good strong centurion will do.

Well, there's nobody under there.

Oh Philips, see that I'm not disturbed

for about six months, will you?

- Come on, get off your spine quick

and put a picket on the place

or you'll have the mob in here.

- Right.

This is ours.

- Got to get to the Longfellow.

♪ Wrap me up in my stockwhip and blanket ♪

♪ And bury me deep down below ♪

♪ Where the dingoes and crows can't molest me ♪

♪ On the plains where the coolibah grows ♪

Hey, come out of there!

- Who you are?

Never mind who we are, who are you?

- Mussolini, having a bath.

And we're the Andrews Sisters, come on, open up.

- Well advance and recognize.

- Well, cop the long lizard.

- Madame Duvet.

- Come on, throw the key up.

- And shut the door after you, too.

- The only one who's kept his cool.

- Look at the joint.

- Looks like an opera scene.

- I'm on the flag.

Look.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

than we ever dreamed of in our philosophy.

- I've been dreaming of that little packet for weeks, Peter.

Yeah, but cop the blonde.

- Hmm, where?

- Oh, look over here.

- Too fat.

- I like 'em fat.

You know, sort of...

How do you like 'em?

- Oh I like them tall and dark.

Short and fair.

Ginger.

I like them.

- You like 'em!

- Would you like a dry martini, old boy?

- A what?

- Plonk, to you.

Oh, my face is rank.

And smells to heaven.

But mind you, "he that hath a beard is more than a youth."

But "he that no beard is less than a man."

Good lord, I look like a wog.

- You smell like one.

- Well, a little on the nose.

- Not now.

- A bath.

- Now fair go, blokes.

Fair go, I found this, you know.

♪ We're off to see the wizard ♪

♪ The wonderful Wizard of Oz ♪

Who's in there?

- Too late George, no seats vacant.

I say, fellas, fellas.

- Get off my back George,

I've been carrying you long enough.

Why don't you let him in.

- Listen, far be it from me

to turn out to be an earbasher,

but I'm trying to tell you fellas in a refined way

that there is ouble-tra at the oor-da.

- What are you men doing here?

- We're just having a...

- OK, OK, OK.

What shire you from?

- Second-second.

- All right, well get your gear together

and get out of here.

Come on, make it snappy, chaps.

- Right-ho, sir.

- Well it's all yours now, see what you can do with it,

will you.

- It's all yours, carry on it's all yours.

We have decided to make you the hairdresser.

Hairdresser, in charge of the salon, salon.

Salon.

Gonna be a pomade plasterer, a scent squirter.

Oh...

Ah, someone else.

Barber, in charge of the salon.

Gonna be lovely, that is.

Hmph, Japanese.

Might have known it.

Chloe.

Oh, Chloe.

Fancy meeting you all the way out here.

Oh, Chloe...

I come thousands of miles,

over thousands of water,

and pick out a dump like this to fall into a water hole.

Excuse me, Chloe.

Oi, Unconscious, come here.

Come in here, and don't answer me back.

I'm a bit wet.

We want to clean the place up.

You comprey English?

- You what twice, you what?

- No, you can't offend me, I got a skin like a horse.

The main idea is we want to clean the place up, see,

if we can possibly do, clean the place up.

- I think you're gonna be rather troublesome.

Listen my friend, you comprey English?

- You're not offending me,

I'm just trying to have a talk to you.

Listen, you comprey, comprey, chair, you know, the chair?

♪ Camels are coming, hurrah, hurrah ♪

- Listen, I want to be your friend.

I want to help you.

I'll slap you...

Look, you comprey...

Tub, tub?

- Yeah, yeah...

You comprey Chloe?

- Oh, Chloe! - Chloe, right!

Yes, well listen, get the joint done now, lively, go on.

And so is your old man.

And his camel, now clean up.

- For heaven's sake, shut up you fellas,

and get to sleep, will you?

Better get all you can,

you'll be working like hell tomorrow.

We were eager to get into action again,

and it wasn't long before we did.

One morning found us ranging about the desert in a carrier

as part of a small patrol, alert for a lash at the enemy.

- We're bellied up here,

you carry on to that ridge over there.

We'll meet you there later.

- What's happened? - We're bellied.

- Eyeties!

- Listen, let me take to the gully.

I can bowl them over like rabbits from up there.

- You haven't got a hope if you get yourself cut off,

we better stick together.

- I tell you I can sell him from the gully!

- Oh all right, get the hell down there.

Good shooting.

- Can't you keep out of trouble for five minutes?

- Nasty one there yourself there, son.

You feel all right?

- Oh, right enough.

Only wish I'd have made me full quota.

- How many did you get?

- Oh, but a handful.

And they went for their lives.

There's bound to be a few more of them here somewhere.

Better get cracking out of here.

Milo?

Come on matey, hold up.

Hey fella.

Come on, matey.

We're sweet.

Here comes the rest of the mob.

My last memory was the desert.

Of the hot sun and sand, and a fearful pain.

But now a shadow was being withdrawn from my mind, slowly.

And I saw, what?

A mirage, surely.

Out of which there came the cool, oval face of a girl,

like something from a dream.

- Sister.

- What do you want, soldier?

- Could I have a cigarette, please?

- Yes.

- Thank you.

- There, is that better?

- Much, thank you very much.

- Now try and rest.

And don't keep staring at me.

Try and rest, will you?

There was a crisp,

flower-like freshness about her,

that was full of ease just to contemplate.

Her fingers were firm.

Deft, too.

She looked most capable as she filled the glass.

Yet so feminine.

I wished the medicine had been meant for me.

So I contrived to be a little less robust

than the occasion warranted.

I say, Sister.

- Yes?

- Well, this is going to sound awfully silly, but--

- Shh, you'll wake the patient.

- Oh, yes.

"Whoever loved that loved not at first sight."

- I don't understand.

- You don't understand. - No.

- Bill Shakespeare's let me down again, eh?

- Oh, I see, you and Bill Shakespeare--

- Shh, you'll wake the patient.

I say, Sister.

Look, don't go, there's something radically wrong with me.

- What is it?

- Well in the first place, my feet are very cold.

- Feet are cold?

- Yes, and I've got pins and needles.

- Pins and needles? - Yes, and...

Palpitations.

- Palpitations.

- Goose pimples. - Goose pimples?

- I'm a wreck.

- I think we'll ready you.

Now you try and sleep.

- All right.

I say, your name isn't Mary, is it?

- Yes, it is, how did you know?

- I'm psychic, it had to be that's all,

it's my favorite name.

- Your first name wouldn't be Don by any chance?

- No, as a matter of fact it's Peter.

- Peter?

- Yes, you know, St. Peter, the old gentleman

that guards the gates of paradise, that's me.

- Confidentially, St. Peter, if I should ever be there,

would I need your pass to enter?

- No.

You just say, "Nurse, Tobruk."

- I'll remember that.

- There he is!

- Milo!

G'day, mate.

- Smoky.

- Right-ho, Sister.

- Three guesses, Smoky.

- What is it?

- What the blazes are you got up for?

- Al Hussain Allah Akbar Muhammad Drugabar.

Baksheesh, baksheesh, baksheesh?

Well I'll let you off with a cigarette.

- Oh, get off my back, well you?

- This muster-drill, though.

Greece?

- Yes, we think so.

- The whole of the 16th?

- Well, it looks like it.

- Here's me, sitting up like the Rajah of Bong.

I take a poor view of this, being left behind.

When Bluey and Peter hear about it there's gonna be trouble.

Big trouble.

They'll get so hoppin' mad--

- Remember me, you know, through the window?

Yeah, and all done up like a...

- Yeah.

What's it made of?

- Listen, it's come at last.

I'm going to Greece.

- How'd you manage it, George?

- How did I manage it?

Listen, the Major looked at me and he said George,

I feel you're wasted in the barber shop.

You should be over in Greece with the boys, see?

So he said, go and get your gear on and get down the line

with the rest of the soldiers.

So I said to Budgie Wogram-- - Who?

- Budgie Wogram, that's the wog that helps me

in the barber shop.

I said to him, carry on fella, and here I am, all set.

You're going to Greece and we're left behind.

- Yeah.

I know how you feel, son, but still...

It's just war, you've got to take it, listen.

Don't let it get you down, keep the old chin up.

Remember the old saying, he who laughs, he who laughs last,

he who...

Well anyhow, they all finish up laughing at the finish,

you know.

I'll be thinking of you all the while.

You know, I'm dying to have you with me, but still,

we can't all get the breaks.

I'm one of the lucky ones.

Private Wallace, Private Wallace!

- I'll get him for you, sir.

I'm a kind of unofficial executive around here.

Private, now that's me, Private Wallace.

- What are you doing here?

- Well I was, I was...

- Just a minute, I'll tell you what you're doing.

You sneaked away from the barbershop.

- From the barbershop.

- You've being telling lies to these fellows

that you're going to Greece.

This is the third time you tried to get away with the boys.

- But...

- CO said it's the last time.

If you try any more of these tricks you'll get 14 days FP.

- FP.

- I'll give you two minutes to get back to the barber shop.

- Always kidding, always clowning that guy,

he doesn't really mean that, you know.

- Well, you'd better get back to the shop, son,

or you'll get yourself into trouble.

We're glad you're still with us, anyway.

- Well I had a go anyhow, didn't I?

Quite all right, George.

- See you later, George.

He's a nice little bloke, isn't he?

- Peter?

Time you were in bed.

- All right, Sister.

- Now eyes off, blokes, Peter saw her first.

That's a big blow, how did Pete manage to get in before you?

- Oh, just a habit he has.

Quiet workers, these English blokes, you know.

- Thank you.

- Oh... - It's the dive-bomber.

- The usual locker, and the usual disgrace.

Put it up and close the door.

Now come along boys, break up this place,

you've been here far too long.

Come along, come along.

- Right-ho.

- Well, so long, Pete.

So long, Milo.

- See you later, be good.

Corporal Linton, you should be in bed, you know.

- And you should be in bed as well.

- Oh, but I've just got out of bed,

I don't need to get into bed yet.

All right, all right...

No sooner has the 6th Division

left for Greece with most of our heavy equipment

when news is flashed of a new enemy offensive

which hurls us into a frenzy of preparation.

Minefields are laid, entanglements raised.

Our 9th Division is forced back from the desert

by an avalanche of armor under a new German commander

who has smashed British positions beyond Benghazi.

His name is Rommel.

As the 9th comes in we know how grim is the hour,

how desperate must be our defense.

Bountiful is the Nazi harvest,

falling to the keen edge of his scythe.

A red line of wounded flows in,

overwhelming our tiny hospital and its heroic staff.

- Now you know the urgency of our position.

We have fallen back here to Tobruk

with little in the way of guns,

practically no transport,

six planes in the sky, and a division and a half of men.

In a matter of days, even hours, Tobruk will be attacked

by the full weight of Rommel's panzers,

who are going to come to us on the flood tide of a victory

which has swept through Europe.

Just when they will come depends upon the stand

now being made by the 2nd Armored Division at Mechili.

The Germans will attack with great numbers of tanks.

We have nothing to fight the tanks with

out in the front perimeter lines.

But has it ever occurred to you what would happen

if our infantry did not attempt to attack the tanks

but let them come through?

- Let them come through, sir?

- Yes, the tanks, then lulled by a sense of false security,

would keep on coming right to our concealed artillery.

But let us forget these overrated tanks

and concentrate on our real menace.

The German infantry who will come in hordes.

Now let us look at our first line of defense,

the perimeter line.

These concrete firing posts stretch in an arc for 32 miles,

eight miles out from Tobruk.

Each post will have to be held by only 10 to 15 Australians.

Instead of 50 as the Italians used.

And we can supplement their supply of weapons

with those captured from the enemy.

For the safety of Egypt

it is our job to hold Tobruk for two months.

There will be no surrender and no retreat.

It must be impressed upon every man

that no matter what his job may be,

a cook, a batman, or a mechanic,

that first and foremost he is a fighting man.

And that if the enemy should break through,

no man is to yield one yard.

Remember, with a division and a half

we will have to stand up to seven and a half Axis divisions.

And there is nothing between us and the Suez Canal

except one brigade of infantry at Mersa Matruh.

- Well we can only hope that the 2nd Armored Division

at Mechili can hold out long enough

for us to complete our defenses.

- Mechili has fallen.

Bradley, have arrangements been made to remove the nurses?

- Yes, sir. - Good.

That will be all, gentlemen.

You'll receive my instructions later.

- Hello.

- Oh Peter, you're here.

- Yes, I made it.

Thank god you're getting out of this.

- Oh Peter, I don't want to go,

I don't want to go.

- Come on, chin up.

It's all right, we'll meet each other

as soon as I get out of this place.

- Oh will we, Peter?

Will we? - Yes, we will.

- Tell me, what sort of hats do you wear in Sydney Street?

- Small ones.

- Good.

Will you wear a little blue one,

just over that eye when we meet again?

- I will.

- And we'll go to tea, I know a place in Surrey where--

- Let me look at you.

Go on, you better go.

Easter Sunday.

It came like any other day.

The enemy was near, but so was God.

And in scattered bands we knelt and worshiped him,

regardless of church or creed.

We, who felt we were the old hands,

waited before the dawn with the 9th.

It was their first big show.

- Here they come.

Target.

Charlie five one.

One round gunfire, fire.

- Target.

Charlie five one.

One round gunfire, fire.

- Now remember.

Don't fire at those tanks unless the Huns are visible.

- Look, look, look, like a nine pin, pick him off, Milo.

- Looks like they're stuck in over at number eight.

The tanks have broken through.

- Oi, hell with the tanks.

Look, there's something happening on our front.

Here they come!

Jerry infantry, 500 yards away!

- Position here is very serious.

No, sir.

Sent along to number eight post to ask for reinforcements.

Blown the wire in front of our post.

I can't send any more messages!

- All right, Corporal.

- Hey Milo, I'm checking up on my fellows,

have you seen Robbie?

- Yeah.

Caught one, down by the wire.

Has anybody seen Tilroy?

- No.

- Tilroy.

Has anybody seen Tilroy.

Are there any of my blokes in here?

- Yeah, Pete.

Snowy's over there somewhere.

- Oh good.

I'm looking for Mason and Shorty Walls and Tilroy.

Snowy?

Listen Snowy, wake up.

Have you seen Mason or Shorty Walls anywhere?

- Haven't seen Mason.

Shorty, they took Shorty to the rear area.

- All right.

Thanks.

- Well sir, everything worked out as we planned.

The tanks broke through but our infantry held its ground.

Our artillery accounted for 17 German tanks.

Over 100 dead and 200 prisoners have been picked up

in one of our forward areas.

Been a grand show, sir.

The first time the blitzkrieg has really failed.

- Yes, but don't let us be over-optimistic.

They'll keep coming on the land and in the sky.

And they'll use every possible means

to break the morale of our men,

who are not used to sitting in holes.

We can't afford to relax for a minute.

This is Germany calling.

This is Germany calling.

Bremen, Hamburg, Luxembourg on the 16 1925 meta band.

Calling the Tobruk garrison.

I'm now handing over to your well-known English commentator.

Hello, Tobruk.

Are you still digging into the ground like rats?

What a pity you have no planes.

We'll send you some tomorrow.

I've told your people back home all about you.

That you're already 30 feet below the ground

and frantically digging deeper.

Even in your catacombs there'll not be enough room to die.

Don't you know that the battle is beyond your puny efforts?

Your position is hopeless.

You're outnumbered, without planes,

and with no chance of relief.

For England is being driven from the Mediterranean

and leaving you to be ruthlessly sacrificed.

Do you enjoy living like rats?

Why don't you come out of your holes and fight

on the right side?

Think of your future, rats.

What can you hope to gain by hanging on?

A mere handful of deluded Colonials.

You poor fools.

The world will know you as the Rats of Tobruk.

You ignominious sons of sheepherders.

You are just a mere handful, do you hear me?

Just a mere handful.

You're not enough--

- Not enough.

We are enough.

We are enough to do our country loss.

And if to live,

the fewer men the greater share of honor.

"He that outlives this day and comes safe home

"will stand a tiptoe when this day is named.

"Then shall he strip his sleeve and show his scars.

"Old men forget, yet all shall be forgot.

"But he'll remember with advantage

"what feats he did this day.

"Then shall our names,

"familiar in their mouth as household words,

"Harry the King,

"Bedford,

"Exeter, Warwick, Talbot,

"Salisbury and Gloucester,

"be in their flowing cups freshly remembered."

And this day "shall ne'er go by,

"from this day to the ending of the world,

"but we in it shall be remembered.

"We few,

"we happy few,

"we band of brothers."

Only at dawn and evening

can we emerge from our holes in the ground

to stretch cramped limbs, shake free from our blanket

a few of our lesser but still tenacious enemies,

or care for the weapons that serve us so well in battle.

We have a little time to be ourselves, talk to comrades,

and smoke a borrowed fag or two.

But Jerry never leaves us alone for very long.

Over come his shells,

driving us to the darkness of the earth again.

- Where have you come from, Tom?

- Where have I come from, where have I been,

I've been everywhere.

I've been all over Palestine, I've been all over Egypt,

and I can't find the people I'm looking for.

Why are there holes, there's more holes around here

than is in a sieve,

and I've been in every one of them twice.

Can you tell me where the Northumberland Fusiliers are?

- Earbasher number one.

- I'm looking for the Northumberland...

I don't think I know what I'm looking for, myself.

- Eh Pete, you're a bit of an interpreter,

get onto this, will you?

- What are you looking for, Scotty?

- The Northumberland Fusiliers.

I've been all over Palestine looking for them,

and I can't find them.

The Northumberland Fusiliers, this fella thinks--

- You're from Glasgow, aren't you?

- Aye.

What did you say?

- I said you're from Glasgow, aren't you?

- Yes. - Do you know Lorder's Bar?

- Do I know?

He's asking me do I know Lorder's Bar.

Do I look like, I used to live in it.

I had to go home now and again, but do I know?

Do you know Lorder's Bar?

- Yes...

- Oh, now, wait wait, don't move, don't move!

- What's the matter?

- Just a minute.

There.

You nearly tread on him.

- Tread on what?

On the bird, Robbie.

- It's on.

- Now just stay there where you are, you're all right.

Don't, oh, you little fool, you.

Now stop where you are, will you.

Try and stop where you're put.

Now then, don't move, there you are.

He's all right.

What have you got there, Scotty?

- It's a robin, the bird.

What do you call him Robbie for?

- Oh, that's after Robbie Burns.

- It's a nice color, Scotty.

- Oh yes, yes.

See now these fellas think I'm a little bit haywire.

But maybe I'm not silly as I look.

- You couldn't be. - No.

You know, most people have got something

that they cling to.

Something to break the tension.

I got little Robbie here.

You know when things are tough, and tension's high.

A little laugh.

Bang, bang goes everything.

Bang goes tension, do you get the idea?

I had him once, I had little Robbie you know.

I've got a photo, I'll show you.

And you know what I got to show you?

I got it in Lorder's Bar.

All right, that's the wife.

Every time I used to hear a whistle, then when I left

they give it.

- That's very nice, Scotty.

- Oh, I haven't got the photo here.

But it's in my other tunic, this is a new issue.

- Not bad.

- I'll show you first time I catch up with you.

- Stand to, fellas.

Come on Johnny, get your feet under you.

All right, Charlie?

- Any of you fellas heard of the Northumberland Fusiliers?

Do have any idea where they are?

Oh, what a mess, what a noisy mess this is.

Do you have any idea where I could find

the Northumberland Fusiliers?

- Northumberland Fusiliers?

- Yes, I been searching everywhere for them.

- Yes.

You see that old tip over there,

just slightly over to the left?

- Yes.

- Well now if you were to go out there

and then turn about half right,

and follow the track there for about half a mile,

you'll find them out there.

- They're there, are they?

- Yes, you'll find them over there.

But you can't go now, fella,

you'll get your head blown off.

- Well I've gotta go, you see I'm company runner,

and I've got a very very important message for them

and I must get there.

Thank you very much.

I'll show you the bird when I get back.

With other units,

we were to be rested near the town.

To savor that unaccustomed luxury

of walking above ground for any length of time.

We think, as we line up and march off,

how much this means to us.

Little realizing that German bombers went to fiendish ends

to sustain our tension.

There's not very much to look at in the town,

but we attempt to sight-see.

We stop to read the Tobruk Truth.

To us, the Dinkum Oil.

Written and printed by a band of soldier-journalists

whose defiant slogan was, Our Paper Always Appears.

- Ought to get your roof fixed up, Kildare.

- Yes, I'll attend to that.

Ah, remember?

- It's Scotty, you remember that bloke with the bird.

- Don't move, don't move.

Why don't you stay where you're put.

You'll get hurt, what you're doing.

- What are you doing, behave yourself.

- Hey what sort of egg do you reckon that is, Bluey?

- Sand piper.

- Sand piper.

It's a seagull.

- What, that color?

Cut it out, lad, cut it out.

Where'd you get it?

- Down the beach.

Sand piper.

- Chase him in, Pete, come on.

Surround him.

- Oh, there he is.

- Still causing you trouble, Scotty?

- He won't stay where he's put.

You'll get hurt one of these days.

- Come on.

Back into your chairsy-wairsy.

You know, he really thinks there's a bird on his shoulder.

What's that?

- An egg.

- Bird's egg. - Oh, bird's egg.

A bird's egg?

A bird's egg?

- He's got him.

- A bird's egg.

- It's on.

- That's the end of it.

I resign, I'll abdicate...

I've had enough...

Get out of here, get out of here.

Get out of here lively now, before I carve you right up.

Out.

- Next bird, please.

There you are, soldier.

- It's all right men, carry on.

- Shave, sir? - Yes.

Just a minute, my man.

It's rather interesting.

You haven't seen anything like this knocking around,

have you?

- Well, that's mostly Italian propaganda, sir.

- They tell me you have a bold brush hand, my man.

Something like a Van Dyke or a Rubens.

- Thank you very much, sir.

Don't want to build myself up,

they do though I say it myself.

My downward swish is terrific, do you know that?

I'll get some more.

Lather, think you'd rather have some...

He's asleep.

You know what fellas, he's worn to a frazzle.

Fought himself to a standstill, that's what happened.

Now listen fellas, I'll tell you what we do.

Let him have a rest for a while, you know.

Few hours, he'll be all right, I'll look after him.

♪ Wrap me up with my stockwhip and blanket ♪

♪ And bury me deep down below ♪

♪ Where the dingoes and crows can't molest me ♪

♪ In the place where the coolibahs grow ♪

- Trent!

I say, Trent!

Trent, letter for you.

- Any for me? - Yeah, one for you, Peter.

- You know any new tunes at all?

Still the same old ones, eh?

Good old good ones.

- Didn't you get any?

- No.

- Well I might share this one with you.

- You're good at getting them.

Only got to answer them again.

- Stone the crows.

This woman gets me hopping mad.

- Why, what's the matter?

- Oh, it's that little cook from Augathella again.

She keeps on writing mad love letters at me.

Listen to this.

"Without you, everything is dark and dreary.

"The clouds gather, and the sky is dull."

- That's not a love letter, old boy,

that's a weather report.

- Hey, Whisky!

I've got another mad letter from Augathella.

Think they're going to have some rain.

- Oh, it's from Kate Carmody.

I don't know why she writes to me.

Unless she means it for the both of us.

- Why shouldn't she write to you?

- Hello, she says there's a photo.

You know, she's a really beautiful girl.

She brings a scent of the big gums and blue skies.

You have a look at her, Blue.

Don't you think there's something strange,

elusive about her?

Like the mountain country she comes from.

You have a look at those eyes.

- I don't have to look at them to remember.

Well, good luck to you both, Peter.

- What, good luck to us?

You mean, Kate?

Don't be silly old boy.

Frankly I'm not her type.

The man that marries her

will have to ride faster than she can,

shoot faster than she can.

Pace her across the plains,

be first across the flooded creeks.

First.

That's her man.

Mind you, if I were your type, I'd probably...

Hmm, you're not the marrying kind.

I know.

- Yes, you know.

- Who's the girl?

- Hmm, oh that's Kate Carmody.

What a bottler.

Have a look at that, Joe.

- What a what?

- Whoa, what go, what a beauty.

- What'd you say her name was?

Katie.

- Katie?

♪ Katie, Katie ♪

♪ The only only girl that I adore ♪

♪ Under the moon shine, over the cowshed ♪

♪ I'll be waiting at the kitchen door ♪

♪ Her name was Mary, Mary ♪

♪ Plain as any name can be ♪

- What's that thing? - Mary.

♪ But with propriety, society ♪

- Mary?

♪ May say Marie ♪

♪ Her name was Mary, Mary ♪

♪ Long before the fashions came ♪

♪ And there is something there that sounds so square ♪

♪ It's a grand old name ♪

After weeks in the town

we moved back to the perimeter lines

and the desert catacombs.

We spent nights in no-man's land,

where we crawled on our stomach

like snakes across the sand.

Or else rested exhausted in the steaming heat

that drains strength from minds and bodies.

Plagued by flies and thirst.

Small things retained our sanity,

like trimming our weapons for battle at night.

And here, in these shaking caverns,

we endure all the explosive rage

that the Nazis can hurl at us.

Until sometimes the sound of bombs burst the mind,

and reason cracked beyond a man's restraint,

till nothing seemed left to us but bombs, bombs, bombs.

- Can't you make them stop it?

- Bill, stop you'll go crazy man.

Bill, why don't you say a prayer.

- I've tried, I've tried.

- I've tried too and I know it works.

- It doesn't, it doesn't.

- Bill, our Father.

Say it, our Father.

- Our Father.

- Which art in heaven.

Which art in heaven.

- Our Father, which art in heaven.

- Hallowed be thy name.

- Hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come,

thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them

that trespass against us.

Lead us not unto temptation.

Deliver us from evil.

For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory.

Forever and ever.

And as men pray for strength,

in the Church of St. Nicholas,

a heavenly figure stands in protective benediction

over a town which will not fall.

I feel I must write a few letters tonight.

- That damn candle's getting on my nerves, you know.

It keeps on sticking its head up to get it knocked off

and then lying down and dying.

- Well, douse it. - No.

Not yet.

I want to finish my letter.

- Who is it this time?

Mary or Kate?

You should never write to them both on the one day.

I suppose that would be considered bad form,

wouldn't it?

- No that's, that's...

- Caution.

- Caution, yeah, that's what it is.

He's a shrewdy, that bloke.

- Shoot me an envelope would you?

Oh by the way, I sent your affectionate thoughts to Kate.

Hope you don't mind.

- You cut that sort of stuff out.

I didn't ask you to.

- Oh, terribly sorry,

I'll open up the letter and cross it out if you like.

- No need to go that far.

Doesn't make that much difference.

- Shut up.

- Well, it's on fellas.

It's what you've been waiting for.

Prescott.

Shift up.

Bluey, Pete.

This is the drill.

Now according to our report,

there's approximately an enemy platoon in position

with three LMGs around a disused gun

at map reference 454 454 547.

Which is 2,700 paces

on a bearing 176 degrees from the central pit.

- Hey Pete, your candle's out.

- Yes, I noticed that.

Did you get that, Pete?

- Yes, sir.

We will destroy this enemy post,

and take prisoners.

Now, each man is to take the following.

100 rounds, two grenades.

There'll be two brens, three tommies.

20 pounds of gelignite.

50 feet of fuse.

And three ST grenades.

- Hello?

Hello.

No sir, Lieutenant Randall appears to have been lost.

Yes sir.

Right.

Get all the casualties out of here, quick.

Bren guns, stay with me.

- Charlie!

Get him!

Get my rifle!

Let's get out of here, make it snappy.

- Well, there you are old chap.

I can't do anything more until the trucks arrive.

- How are you, Pete?

- I'm...

- You'll be all right soon, heading straight to Surrey.

- Surrey?

That's a lovely spot.

It's green, that's my home, and--

- Come on, son.

Try and keep quiet.

- Bluey.

Will you take this, it's my diary.

I want you to finish it.

Finish it for me, won't you?

There's some poems in it, they're not very good.

Not very good.

I always wanted to be a poet.

Me and Brooke...

Funny.

"If I should die, think only this of me."

You don't know that.

- "That there's some corner of a foreign field

"that is for ever England."

- Yes.

And there shall be...

- "In that rich earth a richer dust concealed.

"A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware.

"Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam.

"A body of England's, breathing English..."

Pete, Pete!

- No, he's all right, he's got to be.

Get the doctor back.

Pete.

Hang on old mate, the doctor's coming back.

Oh Pete, just hang on.

- No Milo.

It's too late.

He's gone.

- Sergeant Donkin?

Sergeant Donkin.

From company headquarters.

- "Please explain why your return of reserved rations

"and water is not at this headquarters by 0600 hours."

- Listen, I've got some good news for you.

They reckon we're being evacuated.

In fact they're on the move down there now.

Well, so long fellas.

Relieved by British and Polish troops,

the 9th Division, scarred but unconquered,

go from the scene of their 281 days ordeal.

Back to their homeland now,

to march in triumph.

For they were heroes.

Line on line, a thrilling conquering company.

The 9th was home.

And this was their reward.

Straight from the hearts of their countrymen,

in a fever of acclaim.

But their job was not yet done.

Danger from the north threatens the homeland,

so they exchange the shouting city streets

for steaming, silent swamp.

And there begins their final purgatory.

Forgotten is the rigor of the desert fight

in this new horror of New Guinea.

Mud, mud, never-ending mud.

Cradled in the campfire of the Australian bush,

the call of mateship brings Milo back to help his friend.

And in this fashion did many like these two,

wounded, bloodied, lost,

stagger on along unknown trails to find their comrades.

Desert could not kill them, nor German nor Jap,

for they would not be killed.

They would not be defeated.

- Bluey.

Bluey, look at this will you?

All the filth we've been through, now this.

It's a sort of promise.

Reckon when a black sees a site like this,

he's one step--

- Milo, come on mate, you're all right.

You pulled this before, remember?

For keeps, this time.

For keeps, you've killed him.

You've killed him!

You've killed him!

Why don't you come out and fight,

you dirty, rotten dingo!

Come out, come out, come out!

You've killed me mate.

If I can get my hands on you, I'll rip you to pieces.

- You're not gonna kill me.

Gotta get back.

Gotta tell Kate.

Those letters to Peter.

They were for me, all of them.

Mine, mine, mine, mine.

That's my photo, leave it alone.

Stop that tune.

Stop, stop, stop!

She's mid-Victorian, mid-Victorian.

But all I want in God's earth...

Kate, Kate...

- Let me look at you.

It's all come true.

You on a hilltop with the wind in your hair.

I've seen you standing like this on the desert

and through the mud.

Just the thought of you kept me sane.

- Oh Bluey, I've wanted you to come back so much,

for so long.

- Will you Kate,

take this man Bluey Donkin for your husband?

- I will.