Original subtitles

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 front line.

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 2 SAS.

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. - Heil Hitler.

Nein! Nein!

♪ I 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 ♪

I'd say we're getting pretty good at this.

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

What does he want to be fucking good at?

He wants to be good at what they 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?

M... 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 fuckin' ovens

and early fuckin' 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 you want oil?

No, I don't want oil.

I want rum

and omelets...

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 fuckin' self.

Oh!

Did they take any prisoners?

No. The SAS boys dispatched everyone, with no prisoners taken.

As you've seen, they used cutlery.

When the fighting is arms' 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 madmen and savages to anyone.

Especially not her.

She's a journalist, and a spy.

No, sir. Of course not, sir.

And anyway, the stories are told with a sense of... admiration.

Yes, there is much to be admired.

Get those bodies covered up.

Yes, sir.

Lieutenant Colonel Bill Stirling, 2 SAS.

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 was... he was quite upset.

Quite upset?

You sound like him.

It's all rather awful in there.

I don't think you ought 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.

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.

Ms Mansour.

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

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?

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'm 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'll be your fault.

♪ Everybody sing ♪

♪

♪ We are ♪

♪ Sparta ♪

Major.

♪ Come on, I will tell you how it will change ♪

♪ When I give you something to slaughter ♪

♪ There is a jackknife going up the hill ♪

♪ Where it is going, I don't tell... ♪

Postman.

Beware of the dog.

♪ Everybody sing ♪

♪

♪ Be my, be my toy ♪

♪ We live on blood ♪

♪ We are Sparta FC ♪

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

♪ It is in a car boot moving away ♪

♪ Cos 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 cockahoop.

Cockahoop?

Well, I am cockadoodle-fucking-doo

that they are cockahoop.

Tolerate Paddy Mayne's eccentricities

in return for exceptional results in 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.

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 defenses

like a handful 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 rear guard at various points along the way.

The Italian Resistance and Riley will be sent ahead

to reconnoiter the town, take out a spy and clear the station.

Shit.

Your papers were forged by British SOE.

You'll be OK.

Just act like a normal husband

and let your wife do the talking.

Si.

They talk strange, not like Termoli people.

Where are they from?

She sounds Sicilian.

Their papers say they are from Campomarino

but they sound Sicilian.

Am I wrong?

Hm.

I say we let the others go

and hold her for more questions.

Let them pass.

Ciao, amiga.

Lui.

Whoa! - Hey! Hey!

So...

Have you decided to try charm?

We got off on the wrong foot.

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 poitin 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 rear guard.

Yes.

When the sun sets...

God help the rear guard.

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 OK, 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.

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, Ms 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 ♪

Bang! Was out cold.

And my father cut his hand free, and...

left him in the snow.

He left him?

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

Scusi.

Who found him?

What? - 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.

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?

2 SAS will be ready for its first engagement with enemy forces

in five days' time.

Location classified.

Subsequent comparisons between 1 SAS, formed by my brother

and 2 SAS, 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 poitin.

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 grenades, Paddy! - And bugles...

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?

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. He's...

badly wounded.

He...

he's my brother.

My younger brother.

My dear brother.

He... he will not live.

He... he's in great pain.

I...

I tried, but I cannot do it by myself.

Please.

An act of mercy.

He's laying in the straw.

Condemn his mortal soul to God.

The pallor...

of girls' brows...

shall be their pall.

Their flowers the tenderness...

of patient minds.

And each slow dusk...

the drawing-down of blinds.

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.

♪ Gotta ♪

♪ Gotta ♪

♪ Get away ♪

♪ Gotta ♪

♪ Gotta ♪

♪ Get away ♪

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.

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.

Reckon they'll close pretty sharpish when we get there.

Where'd you get a Baedeker guide from anyway?

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.

Think France'll be nice.

How'd you know we're going to France?

Word from GHQ. 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, yous were talking like ordinary fucking soldiers!

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

GHQ did say communication would be at 4 o'clock.

And it's 4 o'clock.

Paddy?

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

just fucking do it.

Kersh.

Right.

OK, password.

Blunt approach, zero class, Roman X.

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

GHQ password.

Salt, pepper, re...

OK, Paddy.

You have one minute until our signal is tracked and located.

Riley, just tell me about tonight's entertainment.

Right. 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 under the bell tower.

In the center, there's a 20-millimeter AA gun position

and 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

had flashes on their uniforms.

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

Triangulation of our position will be complete in 10 seconds.

Tell the Resistenza we move up from the south.

19, 0500. - Seven, six, five...

And, Riley Four...

Find some fucking rum. - Three, two...

One.

Alright.

Yeah.

Gather round, lads.

Riley has reconnoitered 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!

OK. So, Alessia, there's an SAS tradition.

You keep a headcount of all the hardware you destroy.

Oh, yeah? - Yeah.

But since you're not SAS, I guess you can give this one to me.

I don't think so.

Engage!

Riley!

What's the craic?

Well, I told our Italian friends here you'd be here five minutes past

so we got started without you.

I don't have Italian friends.

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

Here y'are. Jock, try and reduce your natural Scottish instinct

to run at them with your tongue out. Alright?

Fuck you. - For reasons that baffle me

Paddy still needs you alive.

Covering fire!

Think he's got a death wish or what?

Or whisky.

Or some kind of bravery.

And that.

And being Scottish.

Hi! Hey!

Hello! My name is McDiarmid.

You? - No English.

Good. I fuckin' hate the English.

Paddy!

Flank the fuckers, now.

Go, go!

Hold position!

Fuck!

McDiarmid!

Fucking wait!

Wait!

You two. Get in point.

On the alley.

Go, go, go, go!

Don't you fucking die! - On me!

Keep your arm against the wall!

Move!

Position secure!

Don't fucking move!

Fucking...

On the wall! On the wall!

Move up! Move up!

Go now!

Moving!

Move up! Move up!

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

Stradivarius made violins, Reg.

Don't fuck about.

Don't...

Fuckin' hell!

Move up! Move up!

Get in there! Get in there!

Opening fire! Opening fire!

Hold your fire!

Hold your fire. Hold your fucking fire.

- Please! Don't shoot! - Keep your eyes peeled, lads.

Fucking move it! - Hands up!

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

Surrendering!

Right, men. Round them up.

Let's go. Let's fucking go. Come on. Come on.

Normal rules apply.

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, yous did alright.

Well done, lads!

Well done.

Quick. Come on.

None of the soldiers who surrendered are wearing the insignia

of the Cretan campaign on their arms.

Yeah.

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.

Brava! Grazie!

Take cover!

Get down!

Move! James, move them in!

Move! Move!

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 1?

Do it.

Every man for himself!

Oh! Fucking...

Hey! Hande hoch!

Hénde hoch.

Lieutenant John Eliot Tonkin.

200-156, 1st SAS.

Attached to 8th Army.

I'm 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 communication, 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 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.

♪ Jehovah's Witness ♪

♪ Stands in ♪

♪ Cologne Marktplatz ♪

♪ Drums come in ♪

♪ When the drums come in fast ♪

♪ When the drums can turn schlock ♪

♪ Into brass evil ♪