All language subtitles for SAS_ Rogue Heroes - 01x03 - Episode 3.SMURF.English.C.orig.Addic7ed.com

We would be a regiment shooting
grouse in their roost in the dark.

Riley, Almonds.

Remember the parachutes?

Stirling wants to know
if we'll do it again.

I'm not asking for anything
other than permission.

And 60 men.

Men I will choose according
to my own criteria.

Why do you want to fight
in the desert, Dave?

Well, I just want to kill
them fascists, sir.

This regiment isn't all Paddies, is it?

If you decide to join them,
I will join the SAS too.

They've been sent to a place
called Kabrit,

200 miles behind the German
and Italian lines.

What are their chances of survival?

10%?

This is SAS base camp.

Stopping the advance of fascism
across Africa is now down to us.

God help us.

_

_

_

_

At ease!

- Pay the madman.
- He is the madman!

Here! Do you postmen have a problem
with a wee bit of wind?

Oh, Paddy, shut up.

I'd fly one of these
fuckin' things myself.

Sure it's just a truck
with a lot of ambition.

OK, that's enough.

- Shouldn't get fucking smart with me.
- Step aside.

Gentlemen, I understand
your concerns regarding the weather.

This isn't weather.

This is the whole desert
risen up into the air.

General Auchinleck will move
his eighth army

against Rommel's front line
in order to relieve Tobruk.

- If Tobruk falls...
- Tobruk will not fall!

...Cairo and the Suez Canal are next.

Malta and the Mediterranean
topple like dominoes.

It ends with Rommel rolling
his Panzers up the Mall

towards Buckingham Palace.

His planes must not attack our troops.

The SAS have trained for months
to blow them up on the ground.

We will not be stood down.
Many lives depend on us.

It's God's work.

We have one shot at this.
Do you understand?

Your job is to deliver us and turn back.

We will make our own way home.

The wind is 30 knots.

15 knots is considered unsafe.

War is fucking unsafe!

- OK, enough. Enough.
- Besides!

Captain Stirling outranks you.

You will have to sleep with your own

conscience if Auchinleck's advance

is stopped by air superiority
and Tobruk falls to the enemy.

Get your men boarded.

Good man.

- Was that too much?
- I think it went rather well.

Mad bastard.

Letters from home in the bag.

Time is now!

- Corp 3, ready?
- Sir!

Off we pop.

It's time, lads.

Corp 2!

Corp 1!

"Dear Mother."

"If I don't return
and there is a body to burn,"

"spread my ashes among the heather

and let the grouse laugh at my fate."

"Because now it is I and my comrades"

"who are the grouse
flying onto the gun."

"And below us the enemy
are even now loading up"

"and taking aim."

"My dearest Mirren.
You know I love you."

"I know I could make you so happy
that you wouldn't want to die"

"in case heaven wasn't as good."

"Just say yes, you'll marry me
when I'm a proper captain,"

"and I won't ask you
to put it in the papers,"

"because I might die tonight."

"And then people would say 'ha-ha'
or they would say 'poor dear',"

"and both are horrid."

"And if all this
is a lovely dream of mine,"

"well, it has been lovely dreaming it."

"The potential for greatness
of these men is huge."

"I just hope these other officers
can see that."

"Or they'll be added to the long
list of silver-spoon-fed idiots..."

"This new outfit I got mixed up in
is pretty curious."

"During our brief period of
training, the men have lived on"

"rum and lime, rum and tea..."

"Dear sister. I'm having a very
jolly time with this new unit."

"I sincerely hope I get a chance"

"to show the officers what I can do
with a rifle."

"It's a fine crowd of lads, love,
so you're not to worry."

"You just get all the happiness
out of life that you can."

"Anything that brings you happiness,
kid."

Fuck this.

"I have been reunited with an old
friend from the Ulster Rifles."

"He's a Protestant. Paddy Mayne."

"Though he drinks like a Catholic."

"We're able to talk about home
to each other."

"He's the same man I knew in Ireland,"

"but lately, I'm changed by him."

"There's a fellow here
I knew in Ulster. Eoin McGonigal."

"He's from the other side,
but we don't talk religion."

"If I sit up barking and howling
at night, as I sometimes do,"

"he takes me for a walk
and throws a stick for me."

"When I find myself become a devil,"

"he reminds me that underneath
I am a poet."

Sir! Pilot wants a word with you.

Nothing to worry about, lads.

Just a bit of fun, eh?

We're two minutes from the drop.

But Captain Stirling, if you go out
in this, it will be suicide.

Suicide, Captain Stirling, nothing more.

There's no shame in turning back
on a night like this.

Think of your men.

Gentlemen aboard have been appraised
of their circumstances

and have made their decisions.

Proceed with your descent.

The mad bastards are going to jump.

Are we ready, chaps?

Yes, sir!

It's a ten-mile stroll to the airstrips.

We'll bomb their planes while they sleep

and rendezvous with Paddy
and Jock's boys

- for a rum breakfast, yes?
- Yes!

Bloody hell, Mitcham,
you're looking pale.

- Are you tempted? No?
- No, sir.

Nah!

All right, listen up!

No dicking about!

Stand up.

Hook up.

Action stations!

Trigger release!

L Detachment!

L Detachment!

Holden? Gates? Mitcham?

L Detachment!

Gates, Mitcham!

Sir!

Oh! Sir!

I was... I was dragged over the cliff.

Aaah! Can you stand?

No.

I cannot stand, sir.

I heard my spine snap.

Like a fucking gunshot.

Do you want some water?

I cannot stand this pain.

- I'm sorry.
- Mitcham, no!

Fuck!

May the Lord have mercy on your soul.

And on mine.

Well, Father?

You said war could be unpleasant.

I found explosives and machine guns.

Then fortune is with us. Let's move.

Move where, sir?

The airfields.

There are only eight of us, sir.

So it'll be harder for them
to see us from the air. Come on.

Warm up.

What's wrong with your arm?

It's broken, sir.

Then...

...you are lucky, in the SAS,

you don't have to salute.

Now, before we proceed,

we need to ascertain
where the airfields are.

And to do that, we need to ascertain
where we are.

Riley, I believe you retained
your compass.

All I can say for sure is
that the airfields are on the coast

and that we are south of them.

Good.

So we head north.

There are only eight of us... sir.

If you make that observation again...

...there will only be seven of us.

I would head north even if I were alone.

Right. We've got work to do.

Do you think there's a far border town

somewhere at the desert's edge

the last of the lands we know?

Some gaunt, eventual limit of our light

in which I'll find you waiting.

And we'll go together hand in hand again

out there into the wastes we know not

into the light.

Eh? Oh, thanks.

McGonigal, sir.

Oh.

OK.

OK.

- He landed all gut...
- Yes, I understand.

Did you manage to locate
any of the weapons?

Found only one machine gun
and six grenades.

No explosives or detonators.

They will all be buried in the sand
on account of the wind.

- We'll use your grenades.
- You what?

We will head north,
that fucking way, up there.

And we will reach the coast,
and we will find our airfields.

Yeah, well, Paddy, we won't destroy
a single fucking thing

- with what we've got, lad.
- Paddy.

We were going to head south.

Sir, there were dark clouds,
it's going to rain.

We need to move to a higher ground
before we get washed away.

Right.

This was a fuck-up, yeah?

And a grand old fuck-up it was.
Now, if we wipe ourselves out,

it will be the only thing
that we ever did, Paddy.

They'll say that all we ever did
was fuck up.

- GHQ will laugh at us.
- So your conclusion

is that we should stand down?

Is that it?

Paddy, I didn't mean...

Your conclusion, Corporal,
is that we should stand down.

- I don't mean nothing by it.
- Is that it?

After what they've done to him?
It wasn't them that killed him.

It was the wind and the fall
and our decision,

the decision we all made.

Sorry, sir.

Paddy, we need to be alive to go again.

So should we move out?

- It's rain.
- Paddy, we can't leave without you.

It's fine. Go.

I'll catch you up.

Go.

Right, gather your belongings
and fuck off.

Come on, Cooper, get up from there!

Give me your hand.

Do we even know where we're going, sir?

Of course!

Jack!

There's water in the compass.

Also in the loose bombs.

They're drenched. Completely useless.

The bombs in our packs are called

Lewes bombs because Lewes is my name

and I fucking invented them.

I will decide when they are useless!

Get him out, for God's sake!

Come on, you're all right.

Unless you want us all to drown,
we must start back.

Do you know I once swam the Thames?

From Tower Bridge.

Just as Julius Caesar swam the Tiber.

- Rest a bit!
- Jack!

Look...

the water's turned the desert
into quicksand.

You can't walk across quicksand,
let alone swim it.

I am not suggesting, Riley,
that I am Julius Caesar,

but like Caesar, my first attempt
at conquest has been thwarted.

Caesar withdrew and came back.

That is what we will do.

We will go, but we will come back.

Yes.

With certainty.

Come on, you heard the man. Move!

I can hear singing.

Now you sing the second verse
in order to reassure them

that we are not German.

In Kabrit, we officers resolved
a desert procedure.

If you see a fire in the night,
you sing the first verse

and the people at the fire
sing the second verse.

Because if we were Germans,
we wouldn't know the words.

Any of you lads know the second verse?

No.

- No.
- Well...

...if you don't sing it
in the next... 30 seconds,

then the procedure is to open fire.

If Paddy's out there,
it'll be five seconds.

God, how amusing this all is.

♪ Hail, hail, the gang's all here ♪

♪ What the hell do we care?
What the hell do we care? ♪

♪ What the hell do we care? ♪

♪ Hail, hail, the gang's all here ♪

♪ What the hell do we care? Now... ♪

♪ Roll out the barrel ♪

♪ We'll have a barrel of fun ♪

- ♪ Roll out the barrel ♪
- Come on!

♪ We've got the blues on the run ♪

♪ Zing, boom, tararrel ♪

♪ Sing out a song of good cheer ♪

♪ Now it's time to roll the barrel ♪

♪ For the gang's all here! ♪

All right, sir?

Except the gang is not...

...all here, is it?

No, the gang is not all here.

Just us.

There's some, er...

...tea, Paddy.

Come on, mate.

There we are.

Paddy?

Looks like our passengers have arrived.

I thought there were 55 of them.

Don't worry.

You'll still be paid
if you drive home empty.

Mm.

Long Range Desert Group!
Identify yourself.

Cooper.

We are L Detachment,

First Special Air Service Brigade.

What's left of us.

Maybe it's your attitude.

Maybe it's the way you walk.

But you are walking on a tightrope.

This is a big desert,

but there is no room in it

for realists or pragmatists

or believers in common sense.

Last night was the first uncertain

step on the long walk to glory.

There is no other narrative.

That's it, old boy, come on.

What happened?

- We experienced some weather.
- Ah, yes.

Are you in charge here?

The desert's in charge here.
Maybe you've learned that, sir.

What news of Tobruk?
We've been away from radio.

Come on. Get a nice bath,

drink a beer, or two, or three,

and then we'll talk about Tobruk.
Come on.

Another fuck-up?

Another fuck-up.

But anyway, we run the rickshaws
into town.

How many more can we expect?

Ah, well...

...the weather we experienced
was very bad, sir.

Yes.

Perhaps not many.

Right. And, er...

how long do you want to wait?

Oh, you know.

Forever.

Mm.

No. I don't like waiting around.

I have a poker game in Cairo
on Thursdays.

We have some cattle to round up.

- Let's go, boys. Come on.
- On your feet.

Come on!

Big leap, boys!

How the hell are you going to
find them in this vastness?

In the desert, everything
can be predicted.

You were dropped in the north quad,
number 12.

Then rain came.

Rising flood sends your boys
on to high ground.

The Platypus Ridge, which runs south,

so they walk south
until the ridge splits.

Fuck off back there.

Ha-ha!

Come on!

Then they reach the oasis,

which even the Brits can see
on account of the vegetation.

Come on!

Then they follow
the dried-up riverbed south

until they arrive...

...right just about...

...now. Round about there.

Looks like I will make my poker game.

I only count eight of our men.

22 survivors out of...

..55.

Not a shot fired,
except a damn good soldier

firing into his own brain.

Not a plane destroyed, not
a fucking detonator detonated.

What will GHQ do?

About what?

Nothing happened.
Our mission was never authorised,

so no-one will know.

There are a few at GHQ that do know,
and they will laugh.

But...

..mostly they will be too busy
losing the war to care.

And we will be stood down
when we get back to Cairo.

Yes.

If we go back.

They say the boys
from the Long Range Desert Group

can find a pencil
in 1,000 square miles of desert

just so long as it casts a shadow.

They can find a downed pilot
in an area the size of England

in the middle of the night
in a sandstorm.

So?

So... I wonder...

...if they can find the SAS
a place of sanctuary.

Hello!

What are you doing here?

I come here to relax.

I thought it was time for us
to update each other

on some recent events.

Your office was locked.

Recent events?

General de Gaulle
needs to be kept informed

of British strategies in North Africa.

French 75.

Tell me, what is the general's
main concern at the moment?

Fuck you.

Where are they?

Do you mean where are they?

Or where is he?

Do you want to have dinner?

No. Just tell me where they are.

No-one is saying anything.
For Cairo, that is unusual.

Well, truth is,

no-one knows where they are.

Any survivors should have
reported back two weeks ago.

We've had no communications of any sort.

What happened to them?

Well, before you begin to imagine
some heroic combat,

it's almost certain
that if they are all dead,

they weren't killed by the Germans
or the Italians.

They were killed by the desert.

The wind, the sand, the thorns.

Oh, and by the reckless decision

taken by our friend and his comrades

because they couldn't stand
to lose face.

They decided to take off
and make a parachute drop at night

in the middle of a fucking sandstorm.

What is it about Stirling
that you dislike so much?

I invented the SAS.

And he had no right to destroy it
on its first mission.

And if it's not destroyed,
it's now a laughing stock

among the few people
who even know it exists.

In terms of percentage,
I'm afraid the chances of Stirling

being still alive
are just this side of zero.

I thought you knew the rules
of engagement in time of war.

Fucking is fine.

Feeling is not.

Now, then.

This, my friends, is Jalo.

Literally, unquestionably,

undeniably the middle
of fucking nowhere.

If fucking nowhere had
a capital city, this would be it.

And this would be the main street
of fucking nowhere city.

And the Lord Mayor would be fucking
no-one, presiding over fuck all

in a place where there was no-one
around to give a fuck.

Which is exactly what you asked for,
Captain Stirling, am I right?

We could carry on driving,
but I'd say this place

is as good as any other part
of nowhere we might find.

How far to the German airfield?

Sirte is 350 miles north-west.

The Allied front line?

The first Allied position you'd come to

is the New Zealand Reserve troop,
80 miles across open desert.

But the Kiwi fighting men
have been sent north,

so the camp is empty.

If you need any help, there isn't any.

The New Zealand camp is empty, you say?

A few wounded, a few guards.

And a few empty trucks,
one might imagine.

Maybe some guns they left behind.

Maybe some ammunition.

Will there be a piano?

A fucking piano?

The capital city of fucking nowhere
will do us just fine.

But first, we need to do
a spot of shopping.

Come on, you dishy bastard.

- Thieving bastard?
- Never me.

If I'd known you were going
to rob the place,

- I wouldn't have brought you, sir.
- Call me David, not sir.

Philips! Sentry duty.
On the tower, one hour.

And if you can, perhaps you might
bury the explosive canisters

to keep them out of the direct heat.

Where can I put the piano?

- You play the piano, Paddy?
- No.

Eoin was trying to teach me.

I want to carry on.

Put it in the mess hall.

There isn't a mess hall.

So build one.

- Seekings?
- Yes, boss.

Now, last night was rather a success,

so we have something to celebrate.

What did you steal by way of drinks?

45 gallons of New Zealand rum, sir.

Good boy. Right.

So by the time that we're unpacked,
it will be cocktail hour.

And then when we've had our
cocktails and the sun is set,

I think we should go for a bit of jolly.

Ammunition will be signed in
by Lieutenant Fraser.

- Unless he has a problem with that.
- No, sir.

Refuel your vehicles, Mr Sadler.

We go tonight.

Get the tents up.
Let's not be too creative!

Call me Mike.

Targets will be given on the coast.

Ten Lewes bombs to each man.
At the ready!

Have your ten-minute fuses
and your 30-minute fuses.

Do not use your bombs until you can
smell the Messerschmitts!

SAS mission number one!

Move out, you fucking virgins.

Come on, Bob.

We are ten miles outside of
Sirte airstrip, directly north.

I'm going to pick three men,
take them there,

and do what damage I can.

Lewes, you will take your men
to Mersa Brega.

Your target is fuel trucks
and supply trucks.

Paddy, you will take your men
to Tamet Airstrip.

Your target is Italian Caproni
fighter bombers and Messerschmitts.

- Bill Fraser, where are you? I'm here.
- Come on.

I hear during the fuck-up
that you repeatedly asked questions

of your commanding officer.

Well, we have decided, in order
to avoid further fuck-ups,

that questions are to be welcomed
in the SAS.

You will pick four men
and travel to Agedabia.

If questions are welcome,
sir, I've got a question.

Yes?

- Can me the boys have some rum?
- Oh, absolutely.

- Please.
- Come on.

Right. We rendezvous back here
tomorrow morning.

You and your drivers wait here
for our return.

With all due respect, sir,

I'm fucking sick of being
the taxi service.

I can read this desert better
than any man here.

Well, if it's action that you're after,

go with Paddy Mayne.

We have a second chance.

Let's see what the stars
have in store for us, shall we?

It's empty.

They've all flown.

Shit.

Prime fuses. Ten minutes.

Go.

Riley. Take one man, go to the right.

Almonds, take three men,
flank round from the rear.

Back here in eight minutes.

Hit as many trucks as you can.
For God's sake, don't be seen.

Go.

- Sadler.
- Huh?

This is a famous Lewes bomb.

Never heard of it.

That's because it's only famous
amongst us.

Jock Lewes invented it.

He cooked us up a prototype.

Tonight, we're going to try them out.

You've never used them before?

No, but Jock Lewes is very smart.

I'm sure we'll be fine.

These are all being primed and ready
to go off in ten minutes, right?

From now?

From now.

So we should fucking
get on with it, Paddy.

Ten minutes is plenty of time, boys.

Plenty of time for what?

They're drunk, Paddy.

We could blow the bombs
and be gone before they know...

Low-hanging fruit, ripe apples.

Those drunks are pilots
and engineers when they sober up.

So to fuck with conventions,
Geneva or otherwise.

This is our fucking work, boys.

This is who we are,
to kill and be killed.

Any man too just and good and noble

for work like this can stay behind,

polish their bullets,
make a nice wee necklace.

Myself, I am tranquil.

I never go to parties
to which I am invited anyway.

Go.

Go, go, go.

Would you like a light?

Here you are.

No. English, actually.

Inglese!

Si.

English.

Hello!

Fuck.

Good evening.

Take cover!

Three minutes, the bombs go off!

- Including this truck!
- Not ideal.

They've had enough now, Paddy. Paddy!

Paddy!

Two minutes to blow the planes,
boys. Move!

Fucking move!

Jack?

In one minute, this truck's about to
get a bit hot!

Not helpful.

Come on! Move!

Where's Paddy?

Where on earth is he?

Paddy!

Paddy!

Go!

The bombs!

Move!

Go! Go!

Paddy!

Get back to those Jeeps.

Paddy, hurry up!

Paddy!

Boys.

That's Mersa Brega and Agedabia
blown to hell, sir.

Yes!

And that's Paddy Mayne at Tamet.

And here am I in the dark
and silence in Sirte.

- It's not a competition, sir.
- Of course it fucking is.

Come on.

Sir. Report from intelligence.

Ah, my dear.

At last, I have something to report
that's actually true.

Actually fucking true.

Intercepted radio communications

between the German
and Italian Air Force commands

says that the night before last,
48 fighter bombers

and fighter aircraft were destroyed
while on the ground

at two separate air bases,
destroyed by men who appeared

apparently from nowhere
and disappeared into the desert.

Also, 17 fuel tankers,
supply trucks, ammunition crates

and explosives were destroyed
at Mersa Brega.

Apparently, those few who caught
a glimpse of the attackers

said they wore no uniforms
and looked like wild savages.

So he's alive.

The important thing
is that my creation is alive.

I think the mystery of what happened

to L Detachment First SAS Brigade

may have been solved, sir.

Well, I think that boy
might just have won his bet.

Oh, I see.

I see.

Let the games begin.

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