All language subtitles for Our.Girl.S05E01.HDTV.x264-MTB[eztv]

I can smell burning.

- _
- I can smell burning, Mum!

- Mum!
- Oh! Argh!

Don't worry, Georgie. It's
just the hair straighteners...

These sizzling firelighters

- have give me third-degree burns!
- Nan!

- Are you all right, Mum?
- Of course she's all right.

Bit of Savlon and she'll
be right as rain. Come here.

You smell burning flesh, you
click into medic mode, Georgie!

- Man down.
- Nan, you'll live.

Mum, you've laddered your tights.

Right. Well, don't worry,
there's plenty more. Top drawer.

Left or right eye, Georgie?! Left.

- Right. Left. Right.
- Quick march!

Um, er... left!

- Really?
- Yeah, left.

Right. Cars are nearly here,

- so you lot can stop titting about!
- Max, get out!

- You're not allowed in here.
- I said no champagne!

Are you kidding me?

Us young ladies have
got us bits out here.

Georgie, can you please
instil some urgency?

Right, Dad, I'm on it.
Prepare to launch Phase One.

And no more champagne!

- Cheers.
- Cheers!

- Synced and corrected by chamallow -
- www.addic7ed.com -

Look at you!

- Looking good.
- Looking fresh!

- Hello, my love. How are you?
- Good! How are you?

Do you know the last
wedding I was at, right?

I had to do a tactical vomit
in the font at the back.

Well, I came straight
from the stag do, hadn't I?

How's Fingers?

I haven't seen him this
nervous since the bossman

made us jump off that
cliff in Bangladesh.

Oh, my days.

What has she come as?

There's my lickle champion.
Come here, baby, come here.

You didn't leave me no
money to pay the cab.

Guys, this is Doris.

Hiya. There'd better be a free bar,

that's all I'm saying.

She gets awkward around new people.

Come, baby, come, come, come.

I don't care what they're
paying you, it isn't enough.

Just keep breathing. Calm down.

I knew I shouldn't have had those beans.

Oh, here we go.

Eh, taxi's here. HE SHOUTS: Taxi's here!

That's really going to help my tinnitus.

Our girl's getting married,
mother! Taxi's here.

Taxis are here.

Come on, in there. Come on.

Taxis are here.

I'm paying by the hour, so I don't care

if you're in your knickers or
not. Come on. Thank you. Lovely.

Let's go.

Gracie, does my facilitator
make me look like an alien?

- Be honest.
- You are a bloody alien!

- You look lovely, Mum.
- Exterminate!

- Exterminate!
- YOU!

I'll terminate you.

- Bleeding...
- It's a fascinator, you daft bat!

- Whatever!
- You two, behave!

My beads are coming off.

Oh, Marie!

Perfect.

Yep.

Let's hope the groom turns up this time.

No offence, Georgie.

Oh, Nan.

Who could take offence
at anything you say, eh?

Right, come on. Chop, chop!

Come on.

I can't breathe, Georgie.

Listen...

It's going to be amazing.

You're amazing.

Am I going to be all right

at being a wife? I mean...

it's like a lifetime commitment.

You're going to be brilliant.

You're not having
second thoughts, are you?

Are you joking?

I'm pinching myself. I love him so much

- it actually scares me a little bit, Georgie.
- Well, he loves you too,

so it's a match made in frigging heaven.

Everything tickety boo, chaps?

Bricks are currently
being shat, Your Majesty.

Got the rings?

Check.

Speech?

It's all up here, fella.
I'm going to wing it...

make it up as I go along.

If you mention that bar in Kenya...

Aw, like I'd ever do that.

You look beautiful,

like, really beautiful.

Perfect, babe.

You don't look too
minging yourself, fella.

Last of the true romantics!

We have come together
in the presence of God

to witness the marriage
of Frankie and Marie,

to ask his blessing on them

and to rejoice with them.

The union of husband and wife in heart

and mind and body is given
for their mutual comfort

and help in prosperity and adversity.

Let us pray.

Eternal God,

creator and preserver of all,

giver of spiritual grace and author

- of everlasting life,
- _

send your blessing on Frankie and Marie.

Amen. Now that Frankie and
Marie have given their consent,

I declare that they are man and wife.

You may kiss the bride.

Thank you.

- Georgie, come and dance with us.
- Nah, I can't. I'm doing the rounds,

making sure everyone's
happy in my role as

- head of ambience, thank you.
- Hey.

- State of your nan, she'll be going home in an ambience!
- Oh, God.

You all right, Nan?

- Live your dreams, darling. Live your dreams.
- I will.

And you're going to live your
dreams an' all, aren't you, love?

- OK.
- Are you going to show me your weapon later?

- OK! Georgie? Hello?
- Mate!

Hey, here she comes!
The big girl. Thank you.

- When are we going to have our dance, then, Georgie?
- In these shoes, Dad,

I don't think so!

Thank you. Oh, your dad
wants a dance with you.

Mum, my toes couldn't take it.

Oh, she's only ever happy in
her army boots, aren't you?

Honestly, these are so high!

Oh, bless you. Let's have a look.

Look. Oh, yeah.

? So at my show on Monday ?

? I was hoping someday ?

- ? You'd be on your way to better things ?
- Hey.

Your day'll come.

Mum! You're starting to sound like Nan.

You'll be telling me
to live my dreams next.

I just want you to be happy, that's all.

I know. Of course you do. But I am.

- I am happy.
- No, I mean properly happy.

Are you saying I can't
be happy without a man?

- No, I...
- Jeez, Mum!

? Not about to lie down for your cause ?

? But you don't pull my strings ?

? 'Cause I'm a better man ?

? Moving on to better things ?

? Well, uh-oh, oh,
I love her because... ?

- Don't say anything, Kingy.
- Hey. Wouldn't dream of it.

I'm all right. I'm all right.

Hey, hey.

- You are, mate.
- Thank you.

Look...

give it time, you know...

- No, let me stop you. Let me stop you.
- Sure... Hey, hey.

- You don't even know what I'm going to say!
- Mate, I do!

I do know what you're going
to say. All right, listen...

I'm not looking for anything.

I'm married to my job
now that I'm a sergeant.

? But you don't pull my strings ?

? 'Cause I'm a better man ?

? Moving on to better things ?

- ? Well, uh-oh, oh, ?
- Are you all packed?

- You don't need too much for The Sand.
- That's true.

Hey. Who have you got up
your sleeve for us, Lane?

We'll need a good medic
to fill your size fives!

You'll be meeting her on
"mission-specific training".

_

? But uh oh, she came to my show ?

I'm all right.

I'm OK.

Come on, Nan!

- Up the wooden hill to Lancashire for you.
- I'm having a nightcap first.

Don't you think you've had
enough, you drunken old sot?

- Don't call her that.
- Hey, I said sot, not sod.

Mind you, if the facilitator fits...

Me shoes are squelching.

I know, well, they will be, won't they,

after what you've just done in the lift?

? Let's go to Lancashire! ?

All right. Night, Nan.

- Night.
- Night, love.

- Night, Dad.
- Love ya.

Love you.

- Approximately nine dead...
- Request air support...

- Suspected IED on rooftop...
- ELVIS!

Put your head up, how do you know
it's not going to get blown off?

A dead medic is no good to anyone.

Now, get your eyes on
your Colour Sergeant!

Right, guys.

On my command,

we move out of the
trench, 0s, 5s and 20s.

Fan out and protect so the
medic can make way to casualty.

Prepare to move...

move!

The days of shouting "medic"
and we're safe are gone.

You're as much of a target
as any of the infantry.

- OK.
- Friendlies, forward right.

Medic! Medic!

Man down, cover in place.

Assess the casualties!

Gun.

Let's go.

Talk to him. Reassure him.

What do I say?

Well, you know how to
talk, don't you, Mimi?

Come on! We did the theory!

We're just putting that
theory into practice.

- OK.
- Tell him to keep still and ask him his name.

Right. Keep still...
and what's your name?

- Derek.
- OK, Derek, and where does it hurt?

Take a guess. Look.

Leg blown off, catastrophic
bleed. What are you going to do?

- Tourniquet and staunch the bleed.
- Exactly!

Look, Mimi, you know what you're doing.

I know, but it's a
little bit off-putting

with you standing over
me, know what I mean?

Don't worry, 'cos in Afghan
you're going to be on you're own.

Get your tourniquet on!

See? This is why we train. We
train hard and we fight easy.

You reach for your tourniquet
and know exactly where it is,

it's going to save you seconds
and it could save his life. Yeah?

Question.

Why did you leave the first casualty?

No pulse, so he wouldn't
have made the MERT.

- Good.
- Incoming fire. Take cover.

Don't look at me. I'm not here.

You and your casualty
need to get to cover, now!

You heard your Platoon Commander.

- All right.
- Come on.

Everyone into the safe vehicle...

hot extraction out of the danger zone.

- The MERT can't land, take the casualty.
- Get him in the vehicle,

and monitor his vital signs, OK?

- Mind you, his vital signs are going to be fine!
- Get him into the vehicle, now!

Throbber, can you come give
me a hand with this, please?

All right, fella. Let's
get you on your foot.

Move along the safe route
back towards the farm.

I tell you, I was gutted
to miss out on Herrick.

My dad was on the first Herrick tour.

Still, at least we'll be
out there, in The Sand.

You're training and security, sir.

Hang on. Here we go.
Prepare to detonate...

... detonate.

Not bad.

You shit yourself, Prof?

Ugh!

- The Prof just shat, guys!
- Give it a rest.

I didn't know the whiz-bangs
were going to be that loud.

Listen, Pirbright had us training
with even louder ones, Prof.

Concentrate. Fingers, call it in.

Prof, Monk, prepare tactical
theatre procedures...

One zero Charlie to
zero, contact, wait out,

moving casualty, firefight,

- vehicle incapacitated.
- Roger that.

Right, guys. Treat as
ambush, evacuate zero,

remembering your 0s, 5s and 20s,

bounce to safe area, dig in
and await further instruction.

Fingers, with electronic
counter measure bubble.

Safe area, 50 metres east. Let's move.

All right, let's go!

- Real emergency, guys.
- Colour!

- Whoa!
- Come on, mate. Up you get.

Come on, up you get, mate.

How's the patient, medic?

- Stable, Colour Sergeant.
- Unlike the Prof.

Knock it on the head.

What are you going to
do? Put me in detention?

Right. Once cover's in place,

we move him into the safety area.

- Real emergency, guys.
- Colour!

Textbook. You agree, Sergeant Lane?

No plan survives contact
with the enemy, sir.

The back doors are open.

No-one was checking for snipers.

ECM can't protect you from
a bullet in the head, sir.

Right, 2 section.

- All round defence.
- Colour!

That's mission complete.

Excellent, great effort, guys.

On me for a debrief.

- Is that me... finished?
- Yes, mate! You're officially dead.

Throbber, on me.

- Relax. You did well.
- Really?

I asked him where it hurt

and he'd just had his leg blown off!

Work hard and be an
asset to the section.

You're good.

Always treat it as an ambush.

One explosion may be
followed by more explosions

or direct or indirect gun fire.

Now, who was covering the Prof when
he was getting out of the vehicle?

We can return fire if positive
identification of the enemy

is made in accordance

- _
- with the rules of engagement... Throbber...

tell me what the plan was.

Move out of the kill zone, sir...

For I am too pretty to die.

Oi. Oi!

When you're asked a question by
an officer on a training exercise,

you answer it to the
best of your ability,

with the respect due. Understood?

Private Grant?

Move to the best location
in order to reconsolidate

and further assess the situation.

Keep security 360
degrees at all times, sir.

That's how it's done

and that's how you address an officer.

Right, guys, inside, shower, scoff
and prepare for a kit inspection.

I'm loving all this, Kingy!

Indeed... sir.

- Do you like him, then, or what?
- Who?

The new boss.

He's Grade 8 trumpet.

- What does that mean?
- No, I genuinely mean it.

He's Grade 8 trumpet!

Walks around the barracks
playing the thing!

I can't get it out of
my head! It's my earworm

when I lie down to sleep.

I could do with another grown-up
coming away on tour with me.

I think you'll cope, Kingy.

Wish you'd come back
and join the platoon.

Need someone with some
miles on the clock...

- Oh, thanks. Nice!
- You know what I mean.

This lot's still fresh
off the forecourt.

Your country needs you.

Or rather, I need you.

Come on.

Training and security.

- You'd be in the safety of Kabul.
- Nah, you're all right, Kingy.

Yeah. I know.

Afghan...

must fuck with your head.
All those men we lost.

Elvis isn't the reason why
I'm not coming back, Kingy.

I've found my niche here.

I'm a good instructor.

And to be honest, as
weird as this sounds,

I'm enjoying being back
home with the rents!

Look.

You're a good medic

and a top soldier.

That's why we miss you
and the platoon do too.

Listen.

Private Saunders is going to be good.

Spend a penny and save a pound's
worth of trouble with her.

Right. That'll do me, then.

Oh... need a bit of a
favour from you tonight.

Go on?

I am, like, officially, the
best drinker in Wolverhampton.

Well, we all gotta be good at something.

I bet you've had some mental
nights out in Wolverhampton-wick.

First night out as a married
man, boys. Best look after me.

I get that you want to smell
nice for the disco, but...

Disco? How are we getting
there? By the fucking TARDIS?

You look fine, Mimi.

You going to ask me if I twerk next?

- Just being nice.
- You wearing that shirt for a bet, Monk?

That's bad.

- You coming out tonight, George?
- Yep.

Kingy's asked me to keep an
eye on you muppets. Shark watch!

You're just keeping an
eye on your brother-in-law.

- Report back to Marie?
- Have you spoken to her today?

Yes, but I couldn't get
a word in edgeways, mate.

She's sorting out our
honeymoon for when I go on R&R.

- My man is loved up.
- Yes. I'm a one-man woman, bro.

One-woman man, Fingers.

- Is it?
- I'd never cheat on my Doris.

- You wouldn't dare, you.
- So, Prof, you're the only singleton here.

- Come on. Get ready.
- You've got to be single, Throbber.

Mate, I've got about
nine sorts on the go.

Don't you worry about
my legendary cockerel.

Na, na, na. I'm single an' all.

- Is it?
- Mm.

Prof, meet Mimi.

You swiping left or right, fella?

- What's going on, Prof?
- I don't drink,

- it's a good book and...
- If you don't give us an "and"

in the next two seconds,
you're going with them, Prof.

One, two... right, that's it!
Get changed. That's an order.

He's actually being serious. We
never leave a man behind. Sorry.

Right. I'll put on my new Paisley shirt.

- Heads will turn.
- Like the Exorcist.

- Here, what's that trumpet noise?
- That's the bossman, Mimi.

- Why's he playing the trumpet?
- 'Cos he's a Rupert, babe.

Right. Bonus beer for anyone who
can tell me what I was just playing!

The trumpet, sir! Yes!

What? What are you all laughing at?

- That's a fucking trumpet, ain't it?
- Prof?

Triumphal...

- ... March?
- By?

Giuseppe Verdi?

Colour Sergeant, make a
note! Bonus beer for that man.

He doesn't even drink, boss.

- I can have a mocktail.
- Ooh!

Right, guys, minibus departing
from outside here at 2000 hours.

Estimated time of arrival at
Two Lips Karaoke Bar, 2020.

Three drinks of your choice.

2230, you will reboard the minibus
for the journey back to camp.

- Any questions?
- Yes, Colour, how many drinks is three?

- As long as we don't see... ?
- We see everything.

Three.

We all got that?

Colour.

Right then, chaps. Pip, pip.

What was that?

Mate, he's got the whitest
ankles I've seen in my life.

They're a good bunch, Kingy.

Remember, sir...

... one day you're going to
need to give them a bollocking

and they're going to need to listen...

... sir.

One singer, one song,
Colour Sergeant King.

I know how to lead my men,

but thank you for the advice.

You're the officer, sir.

What song are you singing, Kingy?

- I don't think so.
- Look.

It's not going to do the guys any
harm to see you let your hair down.

I sing one song,

you don't take that trumpet on tour.

What are you saying about my trumpet?

Put a Taliban warlord and that
trumpet next to each other,

I dunno which I'd shoot first.

Sir.

One song, and this
trumpet stays at home.

? Oh, you to me are everything ?

? The sweetest song that
I can sing, oh, baby ?

? Oh, baby ?

? To you I guess I'm just a clown ?

? Who picks you up each time
you're down, oh, baby... ?

- Don't you think you've had enough?
- Don't judge me, 'cos you're boring.

I can see why you don't imbibe, Prof.

Oh. Imbibe.

Exactly.

My mum liked a sherry as well, so...

... it's put me off for life.

So you're not in the mosh pit
with the rest of the dudes?

Mm, I think not.

Are you looking forward to Afghan?

It's got to be better than
playground duty, hasn't it?

Can't believe you were a
history teacher at my old school.

- I know.
- How mad is that?

How come, like, well... why?

How did I end up here with
this absolute shower of...

- ... who are even more gobby than me old Year 8s?
- Yes!

- I don't know.
- I mean, you've got a degree.

Why didn't you go to Sandhurst?

This is what I wanted.

I wanted to be an ordinary soldier.

Leave someone else to give the orders.

? ... The sweetest song
that I can sing, oh, baby ?

? Oh, Colour! ?

If you want to be an ordinary soldier,

maybe you should start
behaving like one.

- Are you saying... ?
- Mm-hm.

- Go on! Go on.
- What, you want me to go down?

Yes, I do. Please do.

I'll hold your glass.

- Thank you.
- Mosh pit, here I come.

Good luck.

? I need to know now ?

? Know now ?

? Can you love me again? ?

Sir, he needs his
collar yanked! Throbber.

Let them have a bit of fun and
they run through walls for you.

Get the fuck off!

It's just a frigging dance.
Stop being such a twat!

Mate, do yourself a favour
and don't get me at it.

All right, mate, I ain't going
to marry her. You're safe.

Yeah? You won't be in a minute.

Whoa, whoa. You step away,
Throbber, and you just calm down!

- Oi!
- You need to fuck off now!

Yeah? What?

Oi!

- Throbber!
- Throbber, chill out, yeah? Chill out!

Relax.

- James!
- Just calm yourself down!

- James!
- Oh, shit.

Right, lights on. I need an ambulance.

It's all right, darling.
It's OK. It's all right.

Everybody, take two
big steps back please.

- Give them a little bit of space.
- Just keep really calm. What's your name?

- Jazz.
- Jazz. OK, Jazz,

just keep really nice and still for me.

- Am I going to die?
- No, no, we're going to look after you.

- Do you need me to do anything, Georgie?
- Yeah, I need your shirt, please.

Listen, I'm gonna staunch the
bleed and we're gonna stitch you up.

Hey, I just need you
to keep really still...

- Here you are.
- and keep breathing, OK? Thank you.

Mimi! Come on. Jazz,
you're going to be fine, OK?

Mimi, here.

- She's fallen on glass.
- Still can't get through, Sarge.

- OK. What should I do?
- Hold that. You know what to do.

Yeah, ambulance. Two Lips Karaoke,

- Salisbury, please.
- Right, can everyone just get back, please?

Hello? Yeah, vital
signs, cause for concern,

possible catastrophic
internal bleeding...

The ambulance is on its way, OK?

Mimi, keep her talking.

- Can everyone just get back, please?
- Jazz, I need you to look at me for just a second.

That's it! You're doing great, OK?

Female, mid-twenties,

- right, lower right abdomen...
- Were you going to, um...

- ... were you going to sing a song?
- No.

No?

I actually was going to sing a song.

- Tell you what, I'll sing it for you now, shall I?
- Yeah.

? Someone out there loves you ?

? Someone out there is lonely too... ?

I cannot believe what I've
just witnessed tonight.

- Any word, boss?
- Transfused and stabilised.

- Sir.
- Look. We might not be donning our uniforms

but we're still soldiers, 24/7.

We represent our country.
We never forget that.

We avoid any hot spots

and tactically withdraw
from any potential contact.

- Do you understand?
- Sir.

Clearly, you don't, Throbber.

You put us all in danger.

If you're that irresponsible
having a quiet drink in town,

how much of a liability are
you going to be out in Afghan?

Excuse me, sir...

To be fair to the Throbber...
the sort was coming on to him.

He weren't doing too
much wrong in my book.

Maybe I shouldn't have given
her the grind back. My bad, sir.

Sorry, sir.

It won't happen again.

Youthful exuberance...

Youthful exuberance nearly
ended up with a fatality.

Start to be an asset to the
platoon and not a liability...

you weapons-grade flange flannel.

- What's a flannel?
- Word of advice...

say nothing and go to bed.

_

_

You all right?

I thought she was dead, Sergeant.

You got her to the ambulance
alive. You did your job.

No, I don't think I would
have done that on my own.

- I shat myself.
- We all shit ourselves.

You think I don't shit myself
every time I hear "man down"?

I know, but there's
shitting yourself and,

you know, carrying on and there's
shitting yourself and freezing.

Mimi, you didn't freeze. You did it.

YOU did it.

Prof's shirt's fucked.

Did you always fancy the army?

I think my parents thought
university would have been better...

They must be proud of you now,
though... passing out and that.

Mmm. They've got my...

... they've got my passing
out photo on the piano.

I don't think I'm ready for this,
Georgie! I don't think I'm...

How do you know unless you try, Mimi?

Because if I'm not good enough

and I don't do my job
properly and someone ends up

- dying, then...
- Sometimes you've just gotta step up

to the plate and face your fear.

We all have.

Why aren't you coming to Afghan?

Finished my CMT training.

Manning Desk are happy for me
to stick a three-month tour in

before I have to return.

If you still want me...

Like you say, there's a lot of
new faces that need bedding in.

I knew you wouldn't leave me

to handle this freaks'
roll call on my own.

- Bit rude to freaks.
- But,

I want to be sure you want this. I'd
understand if you couldn't face...

We're going back to Afghan.

Do we ever really leave?

Colour Sergeant King.

My word is my bond! You sang,

I promised I would not
take this trumpet on tour.

Fortunately, though,

I have more than one.

Doof-doof!

Welcome, guys.

I hope you've all had a
chance to look at your various,

optoural briefing booklets,

ostensibly a training,
mentoring and security tour.

Sergeant Georgie Lane.

There are agencies
from all over the globe

- here in Kabul...
- Mimi Saunders.

... and our job is to make
sure no harm befalls them.

- Oliver Hurst. Second Lieutenant.
- This is not a contact operation.

Private Stille.

Some of you will be working
as Guardian Angels...

Airwolf.

... others working at
Sandhurst in The Sand

with me and Second Lieutenant Hurst.

- Lieutenant.
- Thank you, sir.

All right, guys,

into your sections for
transportation to the operating bases.

Let's go.

We're soldiers, man.

We're trained for contact.
No contact, no point.

If there were contact, you'd
soon shit yourself, bro.

I wonder if that's... Chicken Street.

Prof... do you just,
like, know everything?

Yo. He might as well have just said,

"Oh, I wonder if that's
WongaWonga Street?"

- We wouldn't know.
- I would not want to walk down here on a dark night.

- That is for sure.
- Worse than Aldershot, eh?

This might be our only glimpse
outside the barracks, Mimi.

Right, guys. Focus in.

When we get to the
base, shower and scoff.

We'll then have 48 hours acclimatisation

before we undertake the
RSOI package receipt...

... acclimatisation is
a boring couple of days

where you rest so you're
properly ready for the tour ahead,

which will be exacting.

I'm looking to you
guys not to let me down.

Medic.

You OK, Lane?

Medic.

I need you in for a
medical check in the morning

with myself and Private Saunders.

We'll put a list up. OK?

There will also be a voluntary
PT session every day...

which you will all attend,
you fucking sad mongrels.

I thought we was supposed to be

all touchy-feely in the army these days?

The only thing that
doesn't need exercising

is your tongue, Throbber.

Do we let them have real weapons?

What are you talking
about now, Throbber?

- That's the Afghan army, mate.
- That's a whole batch of new recruits.

Look fit, healthy.

They're ready for the task ahead.

Yeah, sir, but what about
all the green on blues?

I'll tell you what'd stop
that. Don't give them real guns.

Right, and who do you think's out
there contacting the enemy, Throbber?

That's what I'm saying,
yeah! It should be us

out there engaging the
enemy, not that rag-bag.

They're not a rag-bag, Throbber.

I think it's a good
thing, don't you, sir?

Despite their horrific losses,

- locals are still willing to sign up.
- Yeah.

There's a will.

- And where there's a will... there's a way.
- Yeah, but, Kabul...

It's a bit of a bubble, isn't it?

Rome wasn't built in
a day, Sergeant Lane.

No, but it can be destroyed in one...

... and that's the problem.

Come on. Please, please, please!

- You all decent?
- Wahey!

You got wi-fi in the
lumpy jumpers quarter?

Apparently, there's wi-fi at
different spots around the base.

Just want to let Marie
know we're all right.

First tour as a married man,
Fingers. How are you feeling?

Yo, I miss her, bro.

How comes you ain't married, Prof?

How come YOU ain't married?

I've got too many. They all
want a slice of the Throbber.

I would rather a slice
of pizza, to be honest.

- How many tog do you think these are?
- Come on, Prof. You was a teacher.

- They're all married.
- Are they?

Yeah. Every single last one of them,

'cos they're all sad fuckers.

I don't think all my
teachers were married.

- Did you used to be married, Prof?
- What makes you think that?

You look married. The glasses and that.

My question is, was you
married to a man or a woman?

- Here, knock it off, Throbber.
- Yeah. Leave it, cowboy.

I used to have a gay drama teacher

and he was married to the postman!

I mean, a drama teacher
I can understand,

- but a postie!
- My Lord!

I thought I was thick but
you take the biscuit, bro.

So, am I right, or am I right?

I believe that you, Prof,
were married to a fella.

No.

I was married to a woman.

But I'm not married any more.

I knew it!

You satisfied?

Oh.

- She didn't run away and leave you, did she?
- Yeah.

Yeah, if you must fucking know, she
ran off with the Head of Geography.

Head of Geography?

So, here is the room...

part of the medical facility,

- so you are able to use...
- So, we can commandeer it, yeah?

Yeah, we need it for medical
check-ups and assessments.

Of course we'll get it cleaned.

_

- So you guys are at Sandhurst In The Sand?
- Yes, Sergeant.

- The elite of the elite.
- I'm Rabee.

- This is Poya.
- Hi.

So are you medics working
with the doctors out here?

We keep them alive.

We go out with them as their security...

- Whenever they have to go into the community.
- Or at the hospital.

People want to kill the doctors?

The situation is improving, though?

I mean, now that the war's ended?

The war hasn't ended for us...

just for you.

Hm. It's a great game but
these pieces are a bit weird,

so once you learn the moves,
we can have a good game,

- OK?
- Right. So...

The horse is the one
that jumps over, yeah?

Yeah. One up, three across.

My dad was some sort of local
champion when he was at school.

What is wrong with you? You big gorilla!

I'm not that good.

- Have you acclimatised yet, Prof?
- Oh, aye!

What is that smell?

That's Kahwa. Local green tea.

Smells like my Doris's fake Jimmy Choos

after she's worn them for a week.

I think it smells quite nice, actually.

Thank you.

Do you know what?

You're the first teacher
that's ever been nice to me.

I'm not a teacher.

- I'm a soldier.
- And History was always my favourite.

Well, Afghanistan has
an incredible history.

Most of us couldn't even point to
it on a map, mate. And we're in it.

- I know I couldn't.
- Why don't you give us a history lesson, Prof?

Same reason I don't teach,

because I don't want to
stand up in front of a bunch

of wazzocks like you lot.

- Come on, Prof.
- Yeah, we ain't a bunch of schoolkids...

What's the fucking point of
leaving a busted PlayStation?

- ... Obviously apart from my man.
- Of course, of course.

Yeah, maybe you all do need a lesson.

Wahey!

You've got quite a full house, Prof.

- I'm not sure why I agreed to do this.
- I think it'll be great.

I think you'll be great.

Now I've got you, you ready?

- Oh!
- A bottle of water...

Oh, thank you.

- ... and I've done your shirt.
- You kept it!

I'd consigned this
Paisley beaut to the bin.

I'd forgotten I had it, so...

I brought it back and...
the blood came out.

Well, I haven't seen it this well
ironed since I liberated it from Topman.

Good job.

Prof. The natives are getting restless.

Wish me luck.

Good turnout, Mimi.

I've been sent to
round up any stragglers,

but shall we just go in?

No. We're going out. We're on a mission.

What mission, Sergeant?

We've got a pass to
meet the administrator

and hopefully some of the
doctors at the local hospital.

There's an armoured
vehicle waiting for us.

What? We're going out of the base?

- I need you in full combats. No risks taken.
- OK.

So...

it's the 1830s, right?

And there was an
empire to be proud of...

And would you believe it,

but the pesky Russians are kicking off.

So us Brits... need to get the
hell over from India to Kabul

to sort these darn natives out...

- He's a dark horse, ain't he?
- We toppled the leader

- Prof?
- Yeah.

- ... and put our own man at the top table...
- Ready, guys?

Let's move.

... Shujah Shah.

- A bit like Monk.
- What?

Handsome and he knows it.

The plan was to piss off,
hotfoot back to India...

but Shujah Shah was
flaky and shaky, so...

... we stayed on to keep
the situation under control.

Big mistake.

Like the Russians, they regarded
us as another invading force, so

these ingrate natives,
they start giving it large

and then, would you have it but the son

of the toppled leader,
Mohammed Akbah Khan, rocks up

wanting bally power and
for us to sling our hooks.

So, in that time-honoured tradition,

we decided on a tactical withdrawal.

I wish your father had!

- What?
- I ain't here for fucking school!

- It's a lorra shit-bollocks.
- 16,000 people set out

from Kabul to travel the
90 miles to Jalalabad.

This was to be slaughter
on an unprecedented scale.

Generations of British blood
has seeped into those mountains.

On the 6th January 1842,

the Kabul forces commenced their retreat

through the dismal pass
destined to be their grave.

On the third day,

they were attacked from all
points by the mountaineers

and a fearful slaughter ensued.

- Fuck.
- Shit!

- Sorry!
- What was the fuck was that, Kingy?

Nothing's getting into this vehicle.

The troops kept on, without food,

mangled and cut to pieces,

each one caring only for himself.

All subordination had fled

and the soldiers of the
44th English regiment,

now known as the Royal Anglians,

are reported to have
knocked down their officers

with the butts of their muskets.

Absolute scenes...

... as you can imagine.

On the 13th of January,

just seven days after
the retreat commenced,

one man, bloody and torn,

mounted on a miserable pony
and pursued by horsemen,

was seen riding furiously
across the plains to Jalalabad.

That was Dr Brydon,

the sole person to tell the tale

of the passage of Khord-Kabul.

Location ahead, boss.

You called home and
spoke to your parents?

Um, I'll call them at the weekend.

I'm an independent woman now.

Yeah, but you can still call...

Fuck!

Shit!

Is everyone all right?

We need to get out and help.

Nobody's getting out. Understood?

Call it in, boss.

Boss!

- Zero, this is spike two zero alpha...
- Sure you're OK?

Colour,

the policeman wants us out to help.

- Look, we stay put and await rescue.
- We have to move out!

- There could be a secondary.
- All the other medical staff are risking it.

- People need our help.
- I say we move.

There's children... It looks bad!

You need to speak to the Brigadier

- and await instructions!
- Kingy, there are four medically trained

- personnel in this car.
- There could be a secondary!

Just stay the fuck put!

I don't need to speak to the Brigadier.

- I'm the commanding officer here.
- Have you all forgotten your training?

Georgie!

So, as you can hear,

Afghanistan is a complicated beast.

Get yourselves out! Release!

Is everyone all right?

- OK?
- Yeah.

OK, guys. Prepare to move!

Georgie?

Georgie.

Georgie.

Get... get... get your weapon.
Grab your weapon. Come on.

Let's go.

- Is everyone all right?
- Let's move.

- You OK?
- As quick as you can.

- Are you OK?
- Yeah, good.

Good work, Saunders.

Tourniquet and administer morphine,

write on foreheads so the doctors know.

Keep on looking at me, my love.

- Keep looking at me.
- Keep talking, Mimi.

... Looks so cute. Right, leg up for me?

It is not worth it,
mate. It is not worth it.

OK. Now, we'll just put
that there like this.

Look at me.

- I promise you, OK?
- You're supposed to be getting the child

into the hospital, not
reading it a bedtime story!

This is a hot zone, move yourself.

The child would have bled
out if it wasn't for her!

Been here a day and
already a goddamn expert.

So fucking British. Let's move!

Just focus on those with a pulse.

I'll prepare the emergency room.

As straight as you can.

Is that your daughter?

Keep that straight.

Is that your daughter?

Is that your daughter? She's OK.

- She's all right.
- What's happening, medic?

Suspected hemothorax, erratic
breathing, morphine administered.

Sir, we need a bed out here, ASAP.

She needs to get into hospital.

Colour! We need a bed out here ASAP.

I'm on you, then.

Doctor! I need a doctor!

Let's move her along to this cubicle.

- All right, talk to me.
- She's in cardiac arrest.

Suspected hemothorax and I've given
here 10 milligrams of morphine.

OK, let's get a blood pressure
cuff on her, please, and an IV.

Come on.

Pass me the paddles.

Come on! Let's go, let's go, let's go.

OK, charging...

Everybody clear.

Come on.

All right, guys. I'm sorry.
I've got to call this.

Time of death...

- 17:29.
- Whoa, whoa. Should I try and... ?

There's just too many other people
that need our help right now.

Were you the guys coming to
see me from the British Army?

Yeah, we're meeting the
hospital administrator

- about the vaccination programme.
- Oh, that's me. Hospital administrator

and doctor when needs must.

Unfortunately, needs
must a lot in my country.

We have plenty for you to get on
with here if you can stay and help.

So where do we think this is?

- Woodstock?
- Woodstock? No.

Isle of Wight rock festival? No.

Some hippie trail somewhere... ?

No, no. This,

this is Kabul.

God's own Afghanistan in 1969.

And this hot chick here...

... is my grandmother.

No way!

And this...

... this bump here...

is my mother,

conceived in Afghan

and just waiting to make
her entrance into the world.

Right, you wazzocks,
that's class dismissed!

Scrub yourselves up and get some food.

I'd appreciate if you could do your
After Action Reports this evening.

- Sir.
- You had the ECM in the vehicle, Mr Hurst?

Yes, sir.

Though local forces

seemed to think the secondary
device wasn't detonated by mobile.

There was an Afghan Police Officer, sir,

- trying to call us out of the vehicle...
- Local forces intel

indicating he had a vest...

... self-detonated, sir.

You knew to remain in the vehicle
until instructed to do otherwise?

Indeed, sir.

Colour...

Thank you for not,

you know, in there.

You're the boss.

You OK, Saunders?

Yes, Sarge...

Sorry, Sarge. I'm...

think I'm just a bit knackered.

It takes it out of you, doesn't it?

Yeah.

It's just like...

so...

... matter of fact over here.

Did you see all that
blood on the ground?

Have you called your parents?

And say what?

I mean, how am I meant
to explain today to them?

It'd just freak them out.

You don't need to say anything.

I don't.

It's just nice to hear
their voices, you know.

And I bet they want to hear yours.

Right, I'll call them.

Promise.

OK.

Well done for today.

Right, I'm going down for some scoff.

OK. Well, I'll tell you what.
I'll call them now and then

I'll join you, if you don't mind.

OK.

Oh, here he is!

Professor Stumble.

So you're an Afghan,
then, basically, Prof.

How d'you work that
one out, you big melon?

All that stuff about you
and your mum in Kabul.

So if your nan went
on holiday to Scotland,

- that'd make you a jock, right?
- I ain't a jock!

No, you're worse than
that. You're a brummie!

I ain't a brummie
either! I'm from Wolves!

And you, you're a pile of sticks!

Wouldn't last five minutes in Wolves.

You ever been Manchester, bro?

Wolves...

- Manchester...
- Shut up, you knob.

- You all right, Sarge?
- All right.

Thank God you're all right!

- Of course I am.
- Wouldn't want to have to ring the wife

- and tell her something had happened, would I?
- Shut it.

What were you saying
about Manchester, you?

What's happened?

We just had an Intelligence
briefing with Afghan Special Forces.

Seems like the Taliban are
targeting the hospital...

And Dr Bahil.

- Why?
- She's standing in the elections.

Her husband was killed last
year. She's taking his place.

They think it was the local warlord.

Aatan Omar.

This guy's our Ace of Hearts.

He's responsible for most
of the carnage in Kabul.

He's been MI6's most wanted since 2012,

when he blew up a UN convoy carrying
medical supplies to Kandahar.

Oh, my God.

He was behind the Special
Forces fatality in Kabul, sir.

Elvis Harte?

Yeah.

We were on that mission, boss.

Where's everyone?

He says Omar's not here!

We are approximately nine fatalities.

Urgent evacuation required.

Suspected IED on the rooftop.

Elvis!

Elvis!

Double AP suicide bomb blast

outside the Kabul hospital.

Organised by local warlord Aatan Omar.

We need to be the ones
out there protecting her,

not leaving it to the Afghan police.

If you're supposed to be helping,
leave me to deal with the situation.

They think we're poisoning them.

This is all about Dr Bahil, is it?

Nothing to do with
Omar and Captain Harte?

Our primary mission is
to keep Dr Bahil safe.

Keep moving. Stay in the vehicle.

Monk, Kingy! On me! On me!

- Coming through! Coming through!
- We're being ambushed. Move! Move!

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