All language subtitles for Mosquito.Squadron.1969.HDTV.XviD.MP3-RARBG

Alles bereit.

Rampe r�umen.

(tannoy) Achtung! Beistehen zum Feuern.

Achtung!

Z�ndung.

Beistehen.

Motor starten.

Fire three.

(air-raid siren)

Hurry up.

- Did you bring your driving licence?
- What for?

If you fly this thing any lower,
you're gonna need it.

Hunt Master to Hounds.
Level at angels six.

- Roger.
- Roger.

Target at ten o'clock, sir.

I see it, Tommy.

Look at those bastards.
Three V-1s ready to take off.

Enough to flatten
another square mile of London.

We're not stopping
enough of them, are we, sir?

No, we're just thinning them
out a little, Wiley.

Hunt Master to Hounds. Target identified.

(radio) Attack intervals of 15 seconds.

Bombs away, 1,000 feet.

Here we go!

Stand by!

Bombs away, sir.

(gunfire)

Stand by with the fly swatter, Wiley.

Sir.

Bombs away!

Bombs away!

Bombs away!

Hunt Master to Hounds. Let's go home.

- Roger, Scotty.
- Roger, Scotty.

Bandits! Bandits! Seven o'clock.

Hunt Master to Hounds.
Break. Break. Break.

Bannister! Clarke! Get that bastard
off Scotty. My fire control's jammed.

He's copped it, Quint.

(Bannister) Quint, let's get out of here.

Quint, they're climbing
for another pass at us.

(Clarke) Dog One,
you're leader now, Quint.

Dog One? Do you read me, Dog One?

Sir, they're calling you!

Are you all right, sir?

Dog One to Hounds. Follow me.
We're going out low and fast.

Stand easy. The strike report you
radioed ahead was relayed to Command.

You'll be pleased with the signal
I received from the air marshal.

''Please convey my personal regards

to flying officers and men
of 641 Squadron. Well done.''

We didn't even make a dent.

Their launching sites are hard to detect
until they go into operation,

but I assure you that Command is giving
the V-1 problem the highest priority.

Yes, sir.

Well, that's all.

I'm sorry about Squadron Leader Scott.
What happened?

A flight of Messerschmitts jumped us.

He was hit before he could manoeuvre.
Went down in flames.

- No parachutes?
- No, sir.

What does one say?
You were close, weren't you?

- We were brought up together.
- Really? Were there family connections?

No. My mother and father
were killed some time ago.

I've always thought of Squadron Leader
Scott's parents as my own.

I see.

Well, I suppose I'd better go and tell them.

It's a hateful business.
I can never find the words.

What about his wife?

Would you? I... I... I...

All right.

Hello, Quint.

Hi, Quint.

Hello, Quint.

What did you say to my sister?

I didn't have to say anything.

Scotty?

You still at the hospital?

Yes, convalescent. I brought this
crowd over. I wish to God I hadn't.

- When do you return to duty?
- Duty? What duty?

- Flying a desk one-handed.
- If that's all you think you can handle.

They've offered me a hook.

Makes a marvellous backscratcher,
so I'm told.

I'm sure Scotty
would settle for it right now.

He's dead.

Did you see it?

Yes.

No parachute?

There wasn't time.

Did...

Did it burn?

It blew up when it hit the ground.

- Beth...
- Leave me alone.

Please.

How did she take it?

- Do you think I should go to her?
- No, I don't. Just let her cry.

You're a hard-nosed bastard, Quint.

Scotty was practically your brother.

That's right, Douglas.

Scotty was practically my brother.

Ah, Munroe.
Meet Major Kemble, Military Intelligence.

The major's got a little job.
I thought you were the man for it.

- How do you do?
- Sir.

Nothing very exciting, I'm afraid.

Milk run, really.

I want to go over,
take a look at this place.

- Chateau de Charlon.
- (Quint) Very pretty.

Yes. What we're interested in is the, er...

underskirts.

- You've been briefed on the V-2 rockets?
- Yes, sir.

Intelligence has it that
there's a V-3, even a V-4, in development.

Larger, more punch.
More important: longer range.

We think the development work
is done at Chateau de Charlon.

That's why I want to take a look.

The Major will be flying with you.

I understood.
I had a few hours off base, sir.

The weather's closed in over France. We
have to fit the cameras to your aircraft.

- 24 hours enough for you?
- Yes, sir.

I'm going to see my...
Squadron Leader Scott's parents.

- What time is it?
- Half past four.

They'll just be having tea on the terrace.

Come on.

- (woman sobs)
- Walk with me, Quint, will you?

(Quint) We were pulling out -
you know, ready to go home -

when a flight
of Messerschmitts jumped us.

They came out of the sun. It was so quick
Scotty had no time to manoeuvre.

He just appeared to go
straight down into the ground.

He had no time, no time at all, to pull out.

I'm sure that, er, it was instantaneous.

When your parents died
and you came to live with us,

Mother and I always admired your spirit,
the way you handled your grief...

and went on with your life.

That's what they would
have wanted me to do.

I, erm...

I only hope we can do as well, Quint.

- You'll be leading the squadron now.
- Yes.

Good. Mother and I will be proud of you.

There's Charlon.

How close do you wanna go?

Part their hair, Squadron Leader.

(plane approaches)

Noisy lot, weren't they?

That's a lot of flak for one chateau.

They must have something
they don't want seen.

Which is a good reason
for us to have to go in again.

How close do you wanna go this time?

Knock their bloody heads off.

Have you had enough yet?

- You OK, Major?
- Let's go home.

(engine splutters)

More trouble, I'm afraid.
I think they've got the hydraulics.

It's gonna be a bumpy landing.

Major. Major!

- Kemble?
- He's in there.

Smash the cockpit. Smash the cockpit!

Let's hope those bloody pictures
are worth it.

Away you go!

That's the squadron leader's
ready room through there, ma'am.

I'll... I'll wait outside.

Thank you.

(chair scrapes)

Oh, it's you.

I... I came for Scotty's things.

I was gonna bring them over.

I'm sorry but...
I just wanted to see this place.

- I forgot that you would...
- No, no, that's... that's all right.

I, erm...
I saw Scotty's batman on the way over.

He was going
to fetch a uniform of Scotty's.

It was at the cleaner's.

- How's Douglas?
- He's gone back to the hospital,

to get one of those artificial hands fitted.

He said you convinced him.

- I did?
- You jolted him, Quint.

- Oh!
- That's what he needed.

You look tired.

Have you been flying?

Yes, just routine.
It was a milk run, really.

I should have known better.
You're resting. I'll come back...

No, no, that's all right. There's, er,
there's some more stuff in there.

Scotty called this room his confessional -

the place where he faced up to himself.

- He envied you, Quint.
- He envied me?

Well, he had all the brains.

I cribbed off him
all the way through school.

He told me all about that. And about
the girls you passed on to him.

I didn't pass, exactly. He took them.

Me too?

I put the rest of his things in here.

Oh, sorry.

No, no. That's mine.

Burned?

Oh, no, Quint. Not you too.

(knock at door)

- Yes?
- Vesey, sir.

Oh, er...

Yes, Vesey. Come in.

The squadron leader's uniform, sir.
Mrs Scott asked me to...

I'll get dressed and... and drive you home.

How many miles does it do to the gallon?

Not many.

- Why don't you sell it?
- Shh. She'll hear you.

She's a temperamental old bitch as it is.

I'm sorry. Mess life coarsens
the vocabulary somewhat.

I know. It played havoc with Scotty's.

You know what I regret most?

Not knowing what sort
of father he'd have made.

I'd love to have seen him
with his children.

We'd even picked the names.

If there's anything you need or want,
you will call me, won't you?

Yes. But don't worry, I'll be all right.

And you don't have to be so formal.

I'm sorry.

It's just that I...

Well, I feel sort of embarrassed.

It's the first time
we've ever really been alone together.

When Scotty was with us, we were
all part of the same family. Now it...

It doesn't feel right somehow.

You feel guilty.

Oh, Quint! That's very revealing.

Yes, it is, isn't it? I'm sorry.

Don't keep apologising. I understand.

- You do?
- Yes.

The day Scotty joined the squadron
his old navigator married a girl,

just two weeks
after her first husband was killed.

He was a pilot.

I remember being absolutely shocked.

Four days after the wedding,
he got shot down.

Then I understood.

Time is so precious.

It's about the only thing
they don't give us ration coupons for.

Air Commodore Hufford,
this is Squadron Leader Munroe...

You flew Kemble over Charlon,
didn't you, Munroe?

- Yes, sir. That's correct.
- Good man, was Kemble.

He'd have been decorated
for the results he got - excellent.

Come and have a look at this.

We made this model
from Kemble's photographs.

Hold those a minute, Mason.

Now, what do you suppose that is?

- It looks like a tunnel, sir.
- Course it's a tunnel.

We know more about it than that.

Down there, that's where
they're hatching their new bird.

What we want you to do, Munroe,
is to chuck a bomb in there

and addle their eggs for 'em.

In there?

Command plans a low-level
saturation-bombing mission

by at least two squadrons of Mosquitoes.

Now, you'd lead a specially trained
flight for this specialist task.

It's near impossible
to put a bomb in there.

Nonsense. Blinds down, Mason.

We'll run that film again.

This is top-secret film, Munroe.

What you're going to see is
a development of Barnes Wallis.

The hydraulics start the bomb spinning.

But here's the joker:

this bomb bounces on land.

- In a straight line?
- Yes. Regardless of terrain.

It's beautiful. It's so beautiful,
I've run this print a thousand times.

The civilian scientists have ironed
most of the wrinkles out for you.

Your job will be to perfect
the technique under combat conditions.

Well, I think we've seen enough.
Thank you, Mason.

There you are.
Barnes Wallis, God bless him,

has done your job for you, practically.

Your bombs would have a time fuse.

If you went in at exactly 60 feet...

S...?

It'd take months to get that accurate.

You have ten days to practise.
And I'll tell you why just ten days.

The French underground reports
the first of the Germans' new weapons

will be ready in 12 days.

You'll have special bombsights
and dummy bombs.

Building a replica
of the Charlon tunnel now.

Any justice in the world,
you'll be a national hero.

What do you say, Munroe? Hm?
What are the odds?

The same as spitting in an air
commodore's eye from an express train.

I like that. Yes, I do like that.
Sense of humour.

He'll do nicely, Wing Commander.
Just the man.

Now, get your team together and practise.

Stop that rocket flying
and you'll take years off the war.

Remember that. Years.

You've got ten days
to chuck your bomb down that tunnel.

All right.

Air scoop out.

Air scoop out, sir.

- RPM?
- 800.

Stand by.

Steady.

Steady.

Bomb away.

Missed.

(Quint) Bannister, change
your angle of approach. 60 feet.

- Drop from 60 feet, Bannister.
- Roger.

Stand by. Steady...

Bomb away!

Bomb away!

That's wide. Too wide.
Correct your angle of attack.

I thought I was right
on the money, skipper.

Steady.

Bomb away!

- What was your range that time?
- 1100, right on 60 feet.

I'm gonna try the same numbers.

Bomb away.

Missed.

Ah, Squadron Leader.
My congratulations, sir.

Your usual table, sir.
This way, if you please.

We haven't seen you all in so long,
I thought you'd found another place.

- With better market contacts than ours.
- That's not possible and you know it.

We try to do our best, sir.
Especially for our service clientele.

Is Squadron Leader Scott joining you?

No.

- What's not on the menu tonight, Victor?
- Chicken.

- Roasted?
- To perfection.

- Then chicken it is.
- Thank you. Thank you.

Scotty never did like chicken anyway.

I think the waiter thinks
we're having an affair.

Are you ever afraid?

Scotty used to be sick
with fear before every flight.

- Did you know that?
- Yes.

Funny thing, though.
When you're flying, you're free.

You're trained
to handle every emergency.

You're prepared for each eventuality.

It's a pattern that you can react to.

Down here the confusion starts.

Aha! Avast there, ye landlubbers!
Ye'll walk the plank for this.

- What do you think? Bit clumsy at first.
- You'll adjust.

I have. I'm reporting for duty tomorrow.

- Where?
- Quint's group. In charge of Link training.

- That's good news. When did you apply?
- Dear boy, they asked for me.

- ''Lend a hand'' I think the phrase was.
- Doug!

- Oh, I forgot. Susan.
- Hello.

She's a nurse. She likes the ironmongery.
She's got an itchy back.

- Doug, stop it!
- Would you, er, care to join us?

No, I'm not having Beth
tell the secrets of the nursery.

Besides, we'll ruin your evening.
Well, cheerio.

- Shark meat, the pair of you.
- Oh, Doug!

When Doug bounces back
he really bounces.

You suggested him for that job.

- Well, I sort of...
- I'm very grateful, Quint... for so much.

Food!

Mm! Looks delicious!

- That's enough rough air. Bring him in.
- Locks in, please.

Do you feel godlike
controlling the weather?

- Quint!
- How's the job going?

Apart from being rated next to the dentist
on the fliers' pet-hate list, OK.

- Tests and reaction tests on your men.
- What's this about Templeton?

Reactions slow and ill-timed.
Borderline. Your decision.

He seems all right in the air.
Maybe it's exam nerves.

Well, as I said, your decision.
But you are doing a precision job.

- You'd do him a favour if he could rest.
- I wonder how much of a favour it'd be.

- Oh, put him through again.
- Right.

- How's Susan?
- We're getting engaged.

- Why the rush?
- No rush. I've got time now.

- Time?
- My ticket. With luck I'll survive the war.

Fliers should never marry.
You saw what it did to Beth when Scott...

I'm sorry.

That's all right. I... I agree with you.

Yes?

Well, what I thought we should...
Thank you.

I thought we should get
a bottle of champagne,

and make a foursome -
you and Beth, me and Susan.

Sounds a good idea.

Erm, Quint.

I'm being delicately reminded there is one
member of our flight not yet checked out.

- Who's that?
- You.

No, you're way overdue.
When shall I write you in for?

As soon as you want
to get stood up. See you.

Stand by.

Steady.

Bomb away!

Bull's-eye. Good shot.

- Their average is one hit in ten, sir.
- We only need one hit.

Three planes can only carry
six highballs, sir.

Flight Lieutenant Mason
is still pessimistic,

but I say your chaps
will continue to improve.

Correct, Wing Commander?

Ohh!

Beth!

I'm all right.

Friends?

- Good luck.
- And blessings.

Come on. Kiss her.

- Quint, it's a public place.
- No, come on. She's your fianc�e now.

That's the idea of this stuff. It's supposed
to fizz away your inhibitions.

Get away! That's enough.
I'd say you two have been practising.

Stop it, Quint.
You're making Susan blush.

- Is he always like this?
- Yes, he is.

We're gonna leave you two the bottle.
I never did believe in long engagements.

- Susan, I've had enough.
- She's hinting at something.

- I promised to get you home by midnight.
- Midnight?

Yes. All flyboys in their kips by 12.

Have fun, you two.

(soldiers) I belong to Glasgow

Dear old Glasgow town

But there's something
the matter with Glasgow

Cos it's going round and round

I'm only a common old working chap

As anyone here can see

But when I get a couple
of drinks on a Saturday

Glasgow belongs to me

The only way Charlon can be levelled and
the underground laboratory penetrated

is by extremely accurate
saturation bombing.

Squadron Leader Munroe,
with Bannister and Clarke,

will take off with highball bombs
to destroy the tunnel.

The second wave, consisting
of 636, 579 and 663 squadrons,

will follow exactly ten minutes later to hit
Charlon at low level - below 500 feet.

Now, I realise... I realise that dropping
from that level can be sticky,

but that is our assignment.

Air Commodore Hufford
has a word to say to you.

And it's a bad one.
Jerry knows you're coming.

A key Resistance man was picked up by
the Gestapo. We must assume he talked.

The Germans will
increase their defences.

With every passing day, they'll get hotter.

That makes it imperative
you get in there as soon as possible

and make the destruction
of Charlon as total as you can.

Well, that's all.
I know you're the men that'll do it.

Good luck to you all.

'Shun!

Ground's as hard as a billiard table.

You have reservations about our mission?

No, sir. I don't think
we stand a loving chance.

Air raid!

(gunfire)

Look out, Quint!

It's a roll of film!

My God! Those are RAF prisoners.

That's Webb - Alan Webb.
He was my wing man.

- There's Crawford and Greenwood and...
- They're all RAF aircrews.

That's Scotty!

- What the hell are they playing at?
- That's perfectly obvious.

Switch that damn thing off.
I've seen quite enough.

There you see the crude subtlety of
the Nazi mind, gentlemen, well illustrated.

- But what can they hope to gain?
- Two things.

Lowered morale amongst our aircrews

and a propaganda opportunity - the Royal
Air Force bombing their own men.

Headline: The Fratricidal RAF.

- It's monstrous!
- Penrose, there is one gift in all this.

This infantile stratagem confirms
our own supposition about Charlon.

We know now Charlon
is vital to the Nazi machine.

Charlon must be destroyed!

We'd be murdering our own men!

Not a word of what we've seen
must go outside this room.

Under no circumstances, to anybody.

What a hell of a mess.

Quint. We've got to tell Beth
that Scotty's alive.

Do you think that would be a kindness?

Quint, he's alive. You've got to tell her!

I know he's alive!
What do you want me to tell her?

That he's in Charlon?
My next mission is to bomb Charlon.

Who's gonna tell her
that Scotty died twice?

They won't go through
with the strike now.

You're a romantic, Douglas.

Command isn't.

What a hell of a... rotten mess.

Now you're repeating yourself.

Poor Beth.

(Beth) Quint!

Quint!

Quint?

What's the matter?

It's so peaceful here.

But you've brought the war with you.

It's this next flight, isn't it?

I know the signs.

Come on. Come on! Let's run.

''Alter Wein und junge Frauen
die M�nner fr�hlich machen. ''

What does it mean?

It means ''Old wine and young women
make a man happy.''

Do you think he... got out in time?

Maybe.

Quint!

Maybe in France...
there's a couple strolling,

and they... they see Scotty's plane.

(Penrose) Command knows the position
the enemy has placed us in.

Hufford was right. The mission itself
is costly enough in men and machines.

And there's the prisoners,
the murder - oh, yes, that is the word -

the murder of our men, and the
propaganda to be made out of it.

Nevertheless, the orders remain:
destroy Charlon.

- Regardless of the cost?
- Regardless.

Now that is a measure of
how important this thing is.

Group has been notified.

They hit the target ten minutes
after your highball attack on the tunnel.

Takeoff at 0600 hours tomorrow,
weather permitting.

It's off! The whole bloody
Continent's socked in. It's off!

- You mean it's postponed?
- For how long?

I don't know. It's thick and soupy for
as far ahead as we can forecast. It's off!

Ah!

For the first time,
I'm almost glad of this thing.

- Hey! A Scotch for the squadron leader.
- You trying to drink the bar dry?

Funny you should say that, Quint,
cos that is exactly what I intend to do.

Well, for the first time in my life,
I'm glad I'm not flying any more.

That's right, Quint, look around.

Take a good look at those faces.

Think of the other faces that have been
in this room, faces you and I saw recently.

- Faces of friends of ours, close friends.
- Take it easy, Doug.

You know what's the matter with them?
Pre-op nerves. Weather wait.

- If they knew what we know...
- I'm gonna take you to your room.

What would happen if they knew
about the POWs in Charlon?

- Shut up.
- There'd be a ruddy riot.

- I'm sure there would. That's enough.
- It's not enough!

''Shut up!'' ''Be a good boy!''
That's what's wrong with this war, Quint.

Those who can see not telling these blind
fools where they're falling. You daren't...

Get off me!

Do you know what the Nazis
have moved into Charlon?

- You don't know what you're saying.
- POWs, that's what!

Airmen - Mosquito pilots.
They're making you into murderers!

- Is this true, Quint?
- Course it is. Look at his face.

Gentlemen!

Escort this officer to his quarters.

There'll be a briefing
in one hour for all duty officers.

Well, that is the situation. You know
it all now. You would have been told.

And the directive remains:
Charlon must be destroyed.

- But, sir, suppose...
- Templeton, do your job and I'll do mine.

Now, just look at this matter.
If the work at Charlon continues,

hundreds of thousands of people might
die, all of southern England devastated,

our bridgehead in Europe destroyed,
the invasion delayed months.

- Couldn't the paratroops go in?
- They'd be slaughtered.

- The French underground?
- The Germans are on the alert.

No, it must be a strike from the air.

There may be a way, sir. While we attack,
we detach one aircraft to breach the wall,

the French underground
cross the breach,

take on the Germans in the castle
and help our chaps out.

- Just ahead of our bombing attack?
- Yes.

- Then what?
- Well, then it's every man for himself.

Scuttling out? Running in all directions?

At least this way they won't die
under our own bombs.

Yes. All right. I can see some sense in it.

Then you get Headquarters
to approve the plan.

They'll need the cooperation
of the French underground.

The underground couldn't mount
an effort on this scale.

Even if they could, those prisoners who
aren't killed when you blast open the wall

would be scattered throughout the castle,

locked up in dozens
of cubbyholes and cellars.

You'd need a force that could
subdue the German garrison

and stand off reinforcements
from outside.

No. I applaud your motives
but your scheme is impracticable.

Giving men a chance for
their lives is impracticable?

You have a particular emotional
involvement with these prisoners.

Have you thought about the men on the
ground you're asking to risk their lives?

Nothing must be attempted that would
jeopardise the aim of the strike.

Supposing...

Supposing, just before we blow the wall,

that the prisoners could be gathered
together in one safe place.

Couldn't the underground take them over
and get them out on the escape route?

Most of those that survive, I would say.

Then schedule the attack
for Sunday morning.

Sunday morning?

(Morse bleeps)

Sunday morning. Of course. Of course.

- Mon p�re, qu'est-ce que c'est?
- N'importe. Allez, d�p�chez-vous.

- Morning.
- Morning, padre.

Good day.

Morning, Father.

Ah, Lieutenant Schack, bonjour.

Bonjour, Father Bellague.
The confessional is all ready for you.

Thank you.

Please remove your guards.
I cannot ask these men

to confess to God
with a gun at their backs.

Sorry, Father. The commandant's orders.

I think he suspects you give out
more than absolution in the confessional.

Perhaps he'd prefer me
to hear my confessions in the open,

where his entire garrison could watch?

As you please, Father.

Geben Sie mir einen Stuhl.

Tu, was er sagt.

Here.

- Give me your blessing, for I have sinned.
- Keep your lips moving and listen.

I will not repeat this.

Tell all your men they are to be
at Mass in chapel on Sunday morning.

Tell them that the order
is from Air Command.

Now, my son.

For I have sinned. Through my fault.

Through my most grievous fault.

(gives blessing)

Go in peace and pray for me.

Keep your lips moving, son,
and listen carefully.

When all the men are in chapel
tomorrow morning and the attack begins,

- they are trying to get you out.
- Thank God!

Gentlemen, this mission must be
executed with exacting precision,

both in timing and accuracy.

This tunnel... must be closed.

Munroe, Clarke and Bannister
will fly the first phase.

Each of their Mosquitoes
will carry two highball bombs,

one of which is capable of destroying
the entire underground facility.

Munroe, as soon as one of you puts
a bomb into the mouth of the tunnel,

you may proceed to breach the wall.

The prisoners will be
waiting in the chapel.

Once the wall is destroyed,

the French underground
will start diversionary skirmishes

so that our men will have a chance
to head for the woods to the west.

Minutes later, waves of
Mosquitoes will level Charlon.

Any questions?

Takeoff at 0625 hours tomorrow.

Dismissed.

Looks as though it's going
to be pretty sloppy over Charlon.

Damned rain could ruin
what little chances we did have.

Rain or no rain, we go tomorrow.

Did Intelligence tell us how to get
a decent bounce off this muck?

Yeah. Just before you shoot,
you use my guaranteed equaliser.

What's that?

Just before you shoot,
you spit on your firing thumb.

What's so hilarious, chum?

I've been a bit worried about him recently.

- He was getting serious about his job.
- Is that so bad?

When a man like Quint Munroe
gets serious, he gets cautious.

- That's when his luck deserts him.
- And us?

And us.

Hey!

- They won't let me see Douglas.
- I thought you knew that already.

I thought if I came here to the base, I...

I had to see you, Quint.

Well, I... I can't stay long.

Can't you tell me why he's confined to
his quarters? Why I can't speak to him?

- Insubordination.
- That's not true. To whom?

The wing commander.

I... I shouldn't have come here.

When will I see you again?

Tomorrow.

With luck?

Come back, Quint.
I couldn't bear it if you didn't.

Stand easy, please.

Don't worry, I'm going to spare you
my usual tedious pep talk.

You know the importance of your
mission.

Just remember that our bomber wave will
start their drop at precisely 1000 hours,

regardless of whether or not
all our prisoners are out of Charlon.

So any delay in dealing with the targets
assigned to you could be very costly.

That's all I wanted to say,
except to wish each of you good luck.

(horn honks)

'Shun!

Good morning, gentlemen.

Stand easy.

I'm told the weather over Charlon
will be ideal for our purposes today.

- Everyone feeling well?
- Yes, thank you, sir.

- Perhaps you'd better break this news.
- As you wish, Wing Commander.

It's from the air marshal.
A slight change in your orders.

You are not to attack the prison wall until
you have successfully sealed that tunnel.

What if it takes
all six highballs to do the job?

Then, regrettably,
the escape plan is aborted.

- The underground was told to withdraw.
- Our chaps will be blown to hell.

The tunnel has first priority.
The escape plan is a bonus operation.

It made sense with a highball
for the prison, but this is obscene!

That's enough! There will be no deviation
from the air marshal's orders.

Is that clear, Squadron Leader Munroe?

Sir.

I'm sure you'll have several highballs
to spare for that wall, Munroe.

- I feel confident of that.
- I'm glad you do, sir.

Carry on, Wing Commander.

All right.

- You know the trouble with this war, sir?
- What?

The world's back to front.

- Back to front?
- Yeah.

We go out
and the sun's rising in our face.

We come home
and it's setting in our face.

Yeah. The world's back to front.

- I bet the Luftwaffe doesn't think so.
- Ah!

They had years preparing for this
rotten war. We just got it handed to us.

(church bell tolls)

Suddenly, Father,
everyone is very religious.

You!

He can't even remember his name.
How does he know he's a Catholic?

The Spirit moves in mysterious ways,
Lieutenant Schack.

Go.

The commandant is not
so difficult to understand.

The commandant dislikes
mysterious occurrences.

Take care, Priest.

- Squadron Leader?
- Yes, Father?

You, erm... You do not know your name?

No, Father.

Please, take your seat, my son.

If anything ever puts me off religion,
this will.

- What's happening?
- Escape.

- Who says so?
- I do. The old priest's up to something.

That's right.
He's gonna sneak us out under his robes.

- All of us?
- We're going home.

- How's Daisy?
- Don't ask.

Now what?

She lost the ration books again -
we're starving to death!

Still, she makes up for it in other ways.

(priest administers Mass)

Five minutes to target.

New course, 160... now!

(air-raid siren)

Out, out, out, out!
Everyone back to his cell!

Squadron Leader Neale!

You're a senior officer here.

Order your men to march
outside at once... please!

Stay where you are, men. That's an order.

So we have a mutiny on our hands.

Priest!

Tell them to obey!

You're a foolish man, Father Bellague.

You insist on being a martyr!

You fascist!

Barricade the door!

- He's dead.
- Take him to the sacristy.

Now, men! Men!

Men, listen to me!

Gather round and listen.

- We've been ordered to stay here.
- We can't stay holed up here, sir.

We'll stick it as long as we can.
Now settle down. Back to your seats!

Hound Master to Pack,
one minute to target.

(Quint) I'll drop first at 60 feet,
1,000 yards out.

Watch how I bounce
and compensate accordingly. Over.

Roger. Good luck, Quint!

Air scoop out!

Air scoop out, sir.

- RPM?
- 6-5-0. 700.

Stand by.

Steady. Steady.

Bomb away!

Dog One to Hound Master.
I'm going to drop from 75 feet at 1100.

Bomb away!

Dog Two from Hound Master.
Same height at 1200. Over.

Roger.

Bandits on your tail, sir. Bandits!

We're down to two shots, Bannister.
We've still got two targets.

Then I'd better make this one good.

Dog One! Dog One!

Bannister! Are you all right?

Bannister. Are you all right?

Better get started
for that prison wall, chum.

Everything's under control here.

Make it good, Wiley.
It's their only chance.

(shouts order)

They're gonna blast us out.

This is suicide. We've got
to get out, sir.

No! Hang on until the last moment.

Stand by!

(Wiley) Hold it. Hold it.

Bomb away!

Come on!

Viens ici!

Vite, vite!

Wiley!

Scotty?

The tank! Get it! Get it!

Scotty, it's me! It's me - Quint.

Who?

- Scotty!
- What did you call me?

Someone's gonna have to get that tank!

You're Squadron Leader David Scott.
You've gotta remember!

Beth!

Got us pinned down, that tank.
Gotta get across that road.

Here, give me that.

Scotty!

That tank!

You've gotta listen to me.

You've gotta listen to me.

Scotty, what about Beth?

Scotty!

Scotty!

Beth.

Scotty!

Parade, 'shun!

- Morning, sir.
- Good morning.

This lot were picked up from the beach
last night by a submarine.

They've just flown in from Southampton.

The mission was a success.
Just the casualties are so damnably bad.

(Doug) Quint!

Thank God. Scotty?

He was killed.

Does, er...

Does Beth know he was alive?

No.

Munroe, well done.

What you and the others did,
my boy, was historic.

Yes, and costly.
We lost Bannister and Clarke.

(Hufford) But Germany
will always remember Charlon.

(Penrose) There'll be another squadron.
There'll never be another Charlon.

If you'll excuse me, sir.

Subtitles rip:
B. J.