All language subtitles for The Memphis Belle (1944).WEB1080

This is a
battlefront, a battlefront

like no other in the long
history of mankind's wars.

This is an air front.

The working day begins, as
it will end, with the ground

crews... as much a part of
the fortress as her wings.

If you're a mechanic
you've got your own bomber.

You get attached to it.

But you know when your
ship goes out on a mission,

you may never see it again.

So you do your work as
well as it can be done.

Perfectly.

Because you wouldn't
want anything to go wrong

that would be your fault.

Today, the bombs will be
taken from these bomb dumps,

somewhere in England,
and delivered

to specific points in
Wilhelmshaven, Germany.

To deliver them is the job of
the 8th bomber command, just

a hauling job, yet one of the
most difficult and complicated

of military operations.

General purpose
demolition bombs.

Impact velocity as high
as 750 miles an hour.

Pierce five inches
of armor plate.

Destroy a factory.

Briefing at 0800.

Pilots, bombardiers and
navigators take their places.

The group commander,
Colonel Stanley Ray,

steps up to the target map
and, for the first time,

you learn where you're going.

Sometimes your face turns
white when you find out.

Sometimes the feeling
you won't come back

tightens your insides.

Not so long ago you
were sitting like this

in a college or high
school classroom,

not listening too hard,
perhaps even a little sleepy.

But you listen here.

And as you listen, you don't
have time to think of yourself.

Fear fades.

You concentrate on the mission...
Type of formation, assembly

point, zero hour, route
to target, weather,

enemy fighters, enemy
flak, route back home.

If forced down in enemy
territory, destroy equipment.

If taken prisoner,
give no information.

Name, rank and serial
number... that's all.

These are the passengers,
with one way tickets.

And this is the crew
of the Memphis Belle.

324th Squadron, 91st
Heavy Bombardment Group.

Just one plane and one crew
in one squadron in one group

of one wing of one
air force out of 15.

United States Army air forces.

Well, fellas we've never had
an easy ride over there yet.

And today won't
be in a different.

No escort except unfriendly.

So keep your eyes peeled.

Don't get excited and yell when
you're talking on the intercom.

Save your ammunition and
make your shots count.

And let me know what goes
on back there, Quinlan.

Yessir.

Stay on the ball,
gang, and she'll

bring us back like
she's always done.

OK?

Let's go.

They have
completed 24 missions,

in this, the toughest
theater of air war,

the big league of sky fighting.

Their experience is priceless.

And so, if the Memphis Belle
comes back this afternoon,

they will be sent to bring the
vital lessons they have learned

to thousands of air crew
men in training at home.

Home is America.

This is a battlefront, like
no other in this or any war.

No monster armies,
no booming cannon.

Only the roaring engine
sound of the bombers

pounding through the
quiet English countryside.

This is an air front.

The wheels of the
Memphis Belle leave

the soil of England
for the 25th time.

The friendly soil of England,
with its ordered farms

and rural hamlets, its
country estates surrounded

by formal gardens
and well-kept parks.

The England these Americans
knew only from the classics

they had to read in school.

The England of the towns
and cities whose people

have depended their island's
freedom for over 1,000 years.

But today their
countryside has changed.

Today, their island
has been converted

into a gigantic bomber field...
A super aircraft carrier,

anchored off the shores
of fortress Europe

with hangars and machine
shocks, with hundreds

of dispersal points, perimeter
tracks and concrete runways.

This is England in
its fifth year of war.

And this is the new battlefront,
the air front, from which

we seek out the enemy... not as
infantry or as artillery, not

as panzer divisions,
but the greater menace...

The industrial
heart of his nation.

The foundation on which the
Nazi empire and its armies

stand, the power behind the
German lust for conquest.

The steel mills and refineries,
shipyards and submarine pens,

factories and munitions plants...
Pinpoints on the map of Europe,

which mean rubber, guns, ball
bearings, shells, engines,

planes, tanks, targets...
Targets to be destroyed.

And these are the
destroyers, each

with a belly full
of bombs, and 10 men

like the crew of the Memphis
Belle... Pilot Captain Robert

Morgan, industrial
engineer from Asheville,

North Carolina... he's flown
this ship across the Atlantic;

The other pilot,
Captain Jim Verinis,

business administration
student at the University

of Connecticut; Radio operator
and gunner Sergeant Bob Hanson,

construction worker from
Spokane, Washington;

Navigator, Captain
Chuck Leighton,

chemistry student
at Ohio Wesleyan;

Engineer and top turret
gunner Sergeant Harold Loch,

from Green Bay,
Wisconsin... used to be

a stevedore... besides
keeping the bill in order,

he covers the sky above; Tail
gunner Sergeant John Quinlan,

of Yonkers, New York,

clerk for a carpet
company but he

quit, December 8, 1941; Ball
turret gunner, Sergeant Cecil

Scott, pressman for a rubber
company, in Rahway, New Jersey.

Pilot to crew:
10,000, put on oxygen.

They're climbing
higher now, 300 feet a minute.

The strain on the planes
and on the men is mounting.

The rest of the crew: Bombardier
Captain Vincent Evans,

operated a fleet of
trucks in Fort Worth,

Texas; Waist gunners... on the
right, Sergeant Bill Winchell,

chemist for a paint company
in Chicago, and on the left,

Sergeant Tony Nastal... used
to repair washing machines

in Detroit when he was a kid.

Now he's 19 and has two
Nazi fighters confirmed.

It takes all of a
pilot's strength

to keep a 30-ton fortress
in tight formation.

But the formation
is the bomber's best

defense against enemy fighters.

The planes are deployed
to uncover every gun,

stepped up and down,
echelon to the right

and left, the range to overcome
the danger of gunners firing

into friendly ships, the range
so concentrated cones of fire,

from the caliber
50 machine guns,

cover the sky for 1,000
yards in every direction.

The friendly coast of
England slips by below.

It doesn't look like much now.

But in a few hours, when you
come back, if you come back,

this would be the most
beautiful view in the world.

Higher and higher, climbing
to reach your best operational

altitude... 25,000 feet...
Five miles straight up.

So high you can't be seen from
the ground with the naked eye.

So high that after one
minute without oxygen,

you lose consciousness.

After 20 minutes, you're dead.

From now to the target, you
go about your routine duties...

Plot your course, check
your equipment and wait.

And think.

Higher and colder.

Temperature, 40
degrees below zero.

Take off your glove and
you loose some fingers.

You look out at the
strange world beyond,

reflections in
plexiglass like nothing

you ever saw before...
Outside of a dream.

Higher and higher, into
the lifeless stratosphere,

until the exhaust of the engines
mixing with the cold thin air

condenses and streams the
heavens with vapor trails.

To the men in the ships,
they're far from beautiful,

for they point like
beckoning fingers

to the formation,
signposts in the sky

for the enemy to spot us.

For these bombers to
accomplish their mission,

a plan is needed
carefully worked out,

timed to the minute.

The job is to bomb
Wilhelmshaven, effectively

and economically.

The enemy is strong, skillful,
determined to stop us.

Here are his defenses...
Air drones, well dispersed,

each plane indicates a
or squadron of fighters,

heavy anti-aircraft, highly
trained and accurate, all

along the coast and defending
his vital installation,

radar to warn him of our coming.

Here is our plan to
divide his defenses

and weaken his opposition.

At 13:30 hours, shortly after
takeoff, six groups of planes

will be heading
toward the enemy coast

from six directions...
The blue force,

100 B-24 liberator
four engined bombers;

The white force, 300
B-17 flying fortresses;

The green force, 300 B-17s,
with an escort of six squadrons

of P-47 thunderbolts; A
force of B-26 marauders,

twin engine medium bombers with
six squadrons of RAF Spitfires

escorting... almost 1,000 planes
and over 8,000 men in the air.

The enemy alerts
all its air drones,

but which is our main force?

What are our targets?

Where should the
Nazi controllers

send their fighters?

It's our job to make them
guess and guess wrong.

A half hour later at 1400
hours, the blue force

will be heading east
across the North Sea

with the white force following.

These enemy fighters are tied
down, waiting to meet them

and will not be able to
attack the green force.

These fighters must come up
to attack the green force

and thus will be no threat
to the blue and white forces.

The B-26s and Spitfires will
bomb and strafe a key rail

junction diverting
these six

And preventing the enemy from
concentrating too many fighters

on the green force,
which is scheduled

to bomb an aircraft
factory at Hanover.

At 1430 hours, the blue
force will threaten

this entire coastal area
of Northwestern Germany.

Which target will it be?

Flensburg?

The Kiel Canal?

Or will it turn
suddenly and bomb

Hamburg, or Emden?

Actually, it carries
no bombs at all.

It's a decoy and keeps the
fighters from the northern area

busy while the white
force, the main effort,

heads for the submarine
pens of Wilhelmshaven.

At 1500 hours, while the white
force is over its target,

only a fraction of the available
German fighter strength

of the area can intercept
it, because of the blue force

diversion and the simultaneous
bombing of Hanover

by the green force.

This is the plan of battle for
today, drawn up by the combined

operations planning
committee and approved

by the commanding general.

The white force, lead
group, low squadron.

We've crossed the invisible
line of enemy radar,

the Hun is expecting us.

Steel helmets go
on, watchful eyes

strain, tight formations
are held tighter still,

tense gunners more
alert, because, here it

comes... the enemy
coast From up here

it looks the same as any
other... houses, roads,

green fields,
factories, waterways.

But they are houses
and fields of those

who invade and oppress.

They are the factories and roads
of the people who twice in one

generation have flooded
the world with suffering,

suffering in such quantities
the history of the human race

has never known, brought
torment and anguish

into countless American
homes... gold stars

and telegrams from
the war department.

The first flak just harmless
looking silent puffs of smoke,

only each puff is
a shell exploding

throwing shrapnel around the
sky exactly the range accurate

flak by radio prediction.

Five miles down, Nazi
anti-aircraft batteries

have calculated the
altitude, speed and course.

Where will the next one hit?

You try not to be there.

The docks and submarine
pens of Wilhelmshaven.

Approach to the target starts.

No smokescreen can protect it.

Now the enemy knows the
path of your approach

and walls that path
with a flack barrage,

but you fly right through
it... flak so thick,

you can get out and walk on it.

Morgan changes course every
15 seconds... evasive action

to confuse the flak batteries.

Bomb sites set for correct
altitude and speed,

bombay doors open, the
bombing run begins.

"Pilot to bombardier.

OK, Vin, you've got it."

Now Evans flies
the Memphis Belle,

controlling it
through the bomb site.

And now we are most vulnerable.

Committed to our bombing run,
we can't dodge flak or fighters.

Here's the first.

Top turret fires at it.

Evans must ignore the battle,
crosshairs lined up on target,

adjustments for wind drift made.

The Two more fighters
diving from 9 o'clock.

Flak now has the range, too.

They've hit this fort.

But he keeps on his bombing run.

As lead bombardier,
Evans' aim must be good.

Every other ship
in the group will

drop its bombs
when he drops his.

Now one pointer on
the bomb site moves

toward another
stationary pointer.

The instant they've
touched, bombs will release.

They touch.

Bombs away.

The first half of the mission
is over... the easy half.

Now, to get home.

The flak stops.

That means fighters out
there somewhere a...

Lurking behind that cloud
or hiding up in the sun

where the glare
blinds you and you

can't see them waiting
to dive down on you.

Fighters at 6 o'clock...
This is what a gunner sees,

a speck in the sky...
That's a fighter...

And then a blink...
That means he's

firing at you, 2,300
rounds a minute.

In a running battle, one of
the most important instruments

is the interphone.

There's four
of 'em, 1 o'clock high.

They're
comin' 'round.

Watch...

Two
fighters, 6 o'clock up,

coming in...

B-17 in
trouble out at 2 o'clock.

Watch it.

Got an
engine on fire.

There's two more,
diving through the 94th...

Three planes,
9 o'clock, coming around.

Keep your eye on 'em, boys.

Comin' around at 10.

Watch 'em, Chuck.

Keep your eyes open.

They're
breaking at 11.

Breaking at 11.

I got 'em.

Coming around
underneath at 10 o'clock.

I see 'em...

There
go two at 2 o'clock.

Watch em, Scottie.

I got my sights on 'em.

Check
that B17, Chuck.

Three o'clock.

Motor's smoking.

Fighter at 10:30, coming around.

Are those
10:30 upper or lower?

B-17 out of
control at 3 o'clock.

Come on you
guys, get out of that plane.

Bail out.

There's one,
he come out of the bombay.

Yeah, I see 'em.

There's
tailgunner coming out.

Watch
out for fighters.

Keep your eye on 'em, Bill.

See any
parachutes, Quinlan?

Some
parachutes open, chief...

Some
flak at 9 o'clock.

Eight men
still in that B-17...

Come on,
the rest of you...

For Christ's
sake, get out of there.

Guys.
Come on, bail out.

So far.

There's
three more shoots.

Flak, 11 o'clock.

Fighters, 6 o'clock...

...at 3 o'clock.

Keep
after 'em, Winchell.

See 'em.

I'm on 'em.

Come on you son of a bitch.

I got 'em.

Quinlan,
confirm that fighter.

He got 'em, chief.

Look, he's bailing out!

Damnit, don't
yell on that intercom.

Fighters, 10 o'clock.

Watch those
two at 12...

They're coming in.

They're
coming in, Scotty.

Get that
ball turret on 'em.

Save the
ammunition as much as possible.

Watch that fighter
comin' in the 3 o'clock.

He's comin'
in on a half roll.

Pull her up, chief.

Pull 'er up, hurry.

This fortress is
hurt, engine on fire, losing

airspeed and altitude,
drifting into the flak,

alone and helpless, a straggler.

In a minute, Nazi
fighters will swarm

in like buzzards for the kill.

You can watch, but you
can't go down to help.

You keep your formation.

Here, too, the
mission is being flown,

none the less real
for being in the minds

and hearts of these men behind.

Ask anybody who's been
to a field in England,

or anywhere else our
bombers are based,

and he'll tell you that
there's drama here, too...

Waiting to see
who's coming back.

To watch them, you
might not realize

how tense these
ground crews are.

But they are tense,
and plenty worried.

In Air Force talk,
this waiting is

known as "sweating
out the mission."

These men know the flight plan.

Their watches told them when the
bombers were running into enemy

flak, when they were
over the target,

when they left the enemy coast.

And now their watches
tell them the bombers

should be nearing the field.

Every ear strains for the
first sound of the engines.

And then somebody hears
them, and somebody

sees the first faint
specks in the distant sky.

Every face turns
to see and count.

The watches try to read
the numbers on the ships.

These planes have
priority to land first.

The colored flares
mean wounded aboard.

In a hospital window,
these watching men

know what that means.

They know what it feels like
to lie on a bouncing fortress

floor for hundreds of
miles, through the frozen

stratosphere, in great pain,
with other men in your crew

fighting to keep you alive
until they hit the field.

The field.

Home.

It'll be OK then,
because they'll

be medical care... the best.

As soon as the wheels of
your plane stop rolling.

Head wound.

Concussion.

20 millimeter cannon
shell exploded

in his radio compartment.

Shock.

Internal injuries.

You'll be all right though.

Flak bursts scattered
flying shrapnel.

He's full of steel splinters.

This pilot's leg is
not a pretty sight.

Neither are the docks
at Wilhelmshaven.

These men will get
the Purple Heart.

And this man,
too... posthumously.

A transfusion
right in the plane.

This gunner is too
weak to be moved.

The new life-giving blood
flowing into his veins

might be the blood of a high
school girl in Des Moines,

a miner in Alabama, a
movie star in Hollywood.

Or it might be your blood.

Whose ever it is, thanks.

36 planes left this
field this morning.

Now six more arrived.

That makes 20 home,
and this one's 21.

More wounded aboard.

22, coming in with his
left inboard engine dead.

23, with a feathered prop
on his left outboard engine.

24, Southern Comfort,
with a chunk of tail gone.

25, they flew home
on their luck.

26, not a scratch.

The control tower learns
that two more landed

at a British field to the south.

One, a crash landing.

Crew safe.

That makes 28.

29.

A rough landing, but
her pilot's badly hurt.

It's a wonder he
brought her back at all.

29 planes back... so far.

29 out of 36.

Our losses were heavy, but
the enemy's were far heavier.

We destroyed a German aircraft
factory, a rail junction,

submarine pens, docks
and harbor installations.

That's specific,
known damage, but who

can tell the number
of German torpedoes

that will not be fired?

The number of our convoys
that will get through now?

The soldiers' and seamen's
lives that will be saved,

or the battles that will be
won instead of lost, because

of what these bombers
and airmen did today?

Pilot and tailgunner.

They can laugh now.

Fire on the inboard
engine did this,

flames streaked back and
burned the stabilizer, too.

Another crew luck brought back.

Here's old Bill.

A pretty good airplane
when it took off.

Lost its nose, lost its
navigator, bombardier wounded,

top turret gunner and
pilot hit, hydraulic system

shot out, no brakes, no flaps.

But old Bill came back.

Now, among the
returned crew members,

talk flows like a
river, talking out

every detail of the mission.

These are the faces of
combat, faces of Americans who

have watched their
comrades die, faces

that can never forget the enemy.

And they're in no mood to
have their picture taken.

In the control tower,
Colonel Ray, the group CO,

is still watching and waiting.

And then he spots the last
flight, three more planes.

And one of them is the ship
everyone has been pulling for...

The Memphis Belle.

The last few miles of this
trip have been a joy ride.

The strain is over.

They can leave their guns now.

Now they know they're going
to go home... to Spokane, Green.

Bay, Asheville,
Detroit, Chicago,

Fort Worth and Yonkers.

The Belle comes in
for her landing,

but first Morgan
buzzes the field... cuts

the grass with her
giant fortress.

It's against the rules, but
this is a special occasion.

The wheels of the
Memphis Belle come back

to the soil of England
for the 25th time.

This is a day they
will never forget.

Another great day soon after,
Brigadier General Hansell

visited the field and presented
the Distinguished Flying.

Cross to every
member of the crew.

And then there was another day.

Their majesties, the king
and queen of England.

Johnny Quinlan never
thought anything

like this would happen to
him when he left Yonkers.

The ground crew were a
little self-conscious

about being dressed in
fatigues, but the queen

thought they were very nice.

Finally, two more visitors came.

General Eaker, commanding
the 8th Air Force and General.

Devers, US commander of
the European Theatre.

The Belle crew received
them in flying clothes,

as General Eaker read the order
for what he called their 26th

and most important mission...
Return to America to train

new crews and to tell the
people what we're doing here,

to thank them for
their help and support

and tell them to keep it
up, so we can keep it up,

so we can bomb the
enemy again and again

and again, until
he has had enough.

And then we can all come home.

To the men of the 8th Air
Force, who are now flying deep

into Germany, bringing
destruction to targets almost

1,000 miles from their
bases, destruction like this,

and who have never once been
turned back by the enemy...

To those men, this film
is gratefully dedicated.