Original subtitles

I have been asked by General de Gaulle to find a way

to get French paratroopers involved in missions with a British unit.

I've already chosen my officers.

So far in this war I've killed 21 men, so in fact you can call me 21.

Next! Do you play the piano, Paddy?

Eoin was trying to teach me.

Ooh, I say.

Let the games begin.

What is it about Stirling that you dislike so much?

I invented the SAS.

He had no right to destroy it on its first mission.

- Eoin!

Only the dreamer and the madman left.

I have 20 of the toughest, finest paratroopers in the French Army

under my command.

This was my idea.

And everything up until then has been part of a strategy.

You'd only have to spare one man.

Somebody left behind at Jalo to train the free French in desert warfare.

I've decided it has to be you.

So I stay in Jalo while you continue to go out on missions?

So the loser finds a way to win.

Two trucks.

Now, I would suggest that we form up into ranks

and straight lines for a formal military greeting

with salutes and all that wonderful nonsense, but…

that would give them a rather false impression of who we are.

Hey, sir. Will they wanna share our hashish, like?

Offer it only if asked.

Do we raise their flag?

Their flag… have we got it?

Yeah, I made one.

I bought some coloured bedsheets in a brothel in Cairo.

Visiting the mother was you, Riley?

Well, if you've made one, raise it.

I thought the French flag was all white.

OK, all of you, when the free French arrive

there will be no infantile abuse or counterproductive stereotyping

for any reason whatsoever.

Even if it transpires that the unwashed, French bastards deserve it.

Besides, insults would be unwise, even light-hearted ones.

I have it on very good authority that they are a rough lot.

Yeah!

God's sake, this is Paddy Mayne's welcoming party.

Where the bloody hell is he?

Oh, here's the mad bastard.

French men at 500 yards, sir.

There is a man among them

called Augustin Jordan.

He is a poet, and he's killed more Germans than all of us put together.

Now, I gave my word that we would unfasten their leashes and let them fight.

Rommel's airstrips are now heavily defended.

Men like Jordan are men like us, and they've lost their country.

It would be rather unsporting to kill him at 500 yards.

400.

Perhaps, instead, you should read poetry to one another

and then wrestle naked in the sand

to see which of you is a finer Spartan warrior.

Never wrestle naked in the sand.

Sand under the foreskin is one of the most painful medical conditions imaginable.

Have you been drinking?

Aye.

And are you going to at least be polite?

The last French words I heard were…

ne tirez pas.

I was very polite.

I said, je suis desole.

Je dois le faire.

Compagnie! Formation!

Compagnie, garde-a-vous!

Alignez!

Quvrez la formation.

Marche.

Ooh.

Paddy, perhaps you would like to inspect your men, hmm?

This is Lieutenant Zirnheld, former paratrooper.

This is Soldier X, real name unknown.

Ex-Foreign Legion, we call him La Vinasse. "Grapes".

Cos he drinks wine instead of water.

La Vinasse.

Grapes.

How many of your men do not remember their own names?

Most of my men speak no English at all.

Well, actually, Paddy speaks French.

No, he fucking doesn't.

Paddy speaks dog

and your men speak dog. So…

we will communicate as dogs.

This is one man that knows his name.

Sergeant Essner, ex-Foreign Legion.

He joined the adventure before the war began.

And he's German.

He is invaluable at roadblocks.

We have German uniforms in our truck

and four of my men are fluent in German

but Sergeant Essner's the real thing.

Ooh, Mr Real Thing.

How real are you, Sergeant Essner?

I am a real soldier.

I despise the French

but I fucking hate Germans.

You… are a German

in a Frenchman's uniform.

Nothing but a turncoat.

Expect to be isolated by my contempt.

Yes, sir.

Actually…

there are two of us.

I am Corporal Brickner.

I am German too.

They came as a pair.

That's fucking brilliant.

Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Deutsch.

Oh!

What the fuck is that?

This is Aspirant Halévy.

He speaks German as well.

He is Jewish.

And his entire family, including his two children

were taken to the camps.

He has made a vow to Kill as many Nazis as he can.

I am a hand grenade, sir.

Pull the pin

throw me where the enemy's most numerous.

We have use for men like him, Paddy.

Fair play.

Show me to the philosopher.

You'd know Augustin Jordan, my second in command

winner of the Croix de Guerre

and former professor of Philosophy at La Sorbonne.

Sir.

I hear you're a poet.

The eyes of a familiar compound ghost

both intimate…

and unidentifiable.

I find T.S Eliot rather dull.

Not a debate worth getting sand under the foreskin for

one might imagine.

Parade dismissed.

This is going to be rather fun, isn't it?

While you're settling in

I'm going to be taking my men on a little jolly up country.

What's a jolly?

Halt! German up front!

Jesus Christ, it's OK. It's OK.

The truck is ours.

It was stolen to order by our friend here at the LRDG.

The intelligence boys took it, they painted it up

put the German vehicle identity code on the roof.

We're going to be using it with us tonight.

There's someone down there, sir. —- Oh, yes.

Yes.

On tonight's jolly

we're going to be taking a guest with us.

His first name is Randolph.

His second name is Churchill.

Blimey… fuck me.

His father Winston has heard about us and wants to know more

so he's sent his son along to join in the fun.

But please feel free to treat him as badly as you treat everyone else.

Too right, sir.

Compagnie!

Garde-a-vous!

Stand easy.

Repos.

We will begin your training regime this morning with a wee competition.

You will divide into two groups…

and use these poles

and these planks to build two scaffolds, 30-feet high.

There are hammers, nails and screws

but no plan.

So you will have to use your initiative.

Is there a French word for initiative?

The first team to build a scaffold 30-feet high which a man can climb

will be the winners.

How do we divide?

Germans, Jews, non-French Legionnaires

against the French.

No, we do not divide ourselves that way.

I have just divided you in that way.

Any more questions?

Well, there fucking should be a question.

Why are you asking us to build two scaffolds

thirty-feet high in the middle of the fucking desert?

We're… we're trained not to question orders.

We're trained to carry them out.

Lesson number one, on morning number one.

You must ask why.

Why?

Very fucking good.

Sharp.

Yeah.

You must ask why

because if you know why you are carrying out your mission

when things fuck up

as they inevitably will

you will know how to achieve what you set out to achieve

in a different way.

In your own way.

So, why are we building two towers 30-feet high

in the middle of the desert?

Because when they are built

you are gonna climb them

and jump off them.

While you are carrying out this test of teamwork

initiative and stamina

I'm gonna be up there on that ridge.

Observing? — No.

I'm gonna be shooting at you.

You'll be what?

Aye, I'll be shooting at you with live ammunition.

It'll be up to you to avoid my bullets.

I see evidence of slacking or shirking

that really does get my goat

and I might just decide to wing the culprit.

But, most of all, I'll be shooting at you by way of encouragement.

As a general rule, I'll be shooting at anybody who stands still.

So don't stand still!

Oh… Oh!

If any of you feel like this is all a wee bit unfair

fucking please feel free to try and do something about it.

Oh, be warned.

When I pulled up that bucket earlier, there was a frog in it.

Now, then. She's a truck.

Treat her like a horse, not a kitten.

And you're Italian, drive like one.

What does that mean?

Green means go, amber means accelerate

red means accelerate and honk your horn.

I thought we were supposed to be in the Africa corps.

When in Rome, Cooper!

Be careful with him, David.

Yes, jolly good.

So you're going to just drive into Benghazi and plant the explosives?

Oh, yes, that's the plan.

I like plans that can be explained with one breath.

Benghazi is Rommel's doorway to the Mediterranean.

We're going to blow that door off its hinges.

You'll be able to tell your father, victory is spelt "SAS".

How will we get into Benghazi?

Oh, war is mostly chaos

with random explosions and bits of heroism

and lots of self-preservation.

Most of the time, soldiers have no fucking idea what's going on.

Italian checkpoints are manned by boys and shopkeepers.

Aren't you gonna shave? — No. No point.

All you need to get past them is arrogance. A few German uniforms.

And parachutist Cooper, who speaks Italian as well as your average Nazi.

The Italians will assume we're trusty German allies.

And if that doesn't work, well, then you just…

open fire.

Next time we're in an oasis and you pull up a frog

keep it.

Share it with the group.

Bully beef can get terribly monotonous.

"Don't Let's Be Beastly To The Germans" by Noel Coward

♪ Don't let's be beastly to the Germans ♪

♪ We might send them out some Bishops ♪

♪ Let's be meek to them and turn the other cheek to them ♪

♪ But don't let's be beastly to the Hun ♪

♪ For many years ♪

♪ They've been in floods of tears ♪

♪ Because the poor little dears have been so wronged ♪

♪ And only longed to cheat the world ♪

♪ Deplete the world and beat the world to blazes ♪

♪ Though they've been a little naughty ♪

♪ To the Czechs and Poles and Dutch ♪

♪ I don't suppose those countries really minded very much ♪

♪ Let's be free with them ♪

♪ And share the BBC with them ♪

♪ We mustn't prevent them basking in the sun ♪

♪ Let's let them feel they're swell again ♪

♪ And bomb us all to hell again ♪

♪ But don't let's be beastly to the Hun ♪

I have youl! Get on your feet, put your hands in the air!

Ah, fuck!

Fuck off.

I don't believe you.

Don't believe me?

Ooh…

I expected better from you.

My commanding officer has some idea that you and I are similar.

A shared love of poetry and philosophy.

I wonder…

if it's something more than that.

Shh…

Perhaps… we should find out.

What say you, Professor? One go each.

I say you're fucking insane.

Ye who philosophise on life and death.

Yes… — You are now looking at the real thing!

In this moment…

Stop!

Merde!

You're up.

I offer you a moment.

I have a wife and a child.

I save my bullets for the enemy!

We're here to defeat fascism, not play your games.

I cannot believe you just risked your life for no reason.

I told you the reason.

You do this purely to discover that I'm not you.

Yep. —- That's it.

Yep.

Oh, and listen, since I have stopped firing bullets

your men have stopped working.

Work!

On travaille!

Lesson learned about men

and the motivation of men.

Fuck.

See, Monsieur Jordan…

SAS training is mostly about what is in here.

Now get back to work.

Do the same.

Just in case we have to go out with a bang.

How's the old man?

Oh, you know, he's keeping busy.

Yeah.

Just think, if in two minutes' time

we all get a bullet in the head

it'll be your name on the front of the newspapers

and we'll all be but a footnote.

Rather amusing.

Fuck.

No, no, that's good, that's good. We're in luck.

Ooh, a dandy. Even more good luck.

Tell him I have to shit. I've got dysentery.

Scheisse, scheisse…

No, no, no.

Per favore.

Oh, right. Well, they forgot to put the fucking numbers on the roof?

It was Dudley Clarke's job to sort that out.

Cooper, you're driving on the bloody English side of the road!

Get over!

Jesus bloody Christ.

Looks like you might make the frontpages of the newspapers after all, old boy.

Turn left up here, let's see if they follow.

Don't indicate! When was the last time you saw an Italian soldier

indicate before he turned? - I thought we were supposed to be German.

Shut up, Cooper. Don't you fucking dare look around.

Cooper.

Sorry, sir.

Right, come on. Cooper.

Turn left up here.

They follow us, we open fire.

Fuck. - It's a dead end, sir.

Bloody hell.

Right, two hours to relax before dark, gentlemen.

Messieurs!

No one divides us, Lieutenant Mayne.

Just like meat, next to the bone is best!

Life close to death

is truly fucking magnificent!

Before you jump, do you have a question?

Pourquoi?

Why are we jumping?

Because why the fuck not?

Go!

Good boy!

Go!

Pathetic. Go! —- Pourquoi pas!

Go!

Pretty fucking good.

Go!

Pathetic.

Pourquoi pas!

Fucking woeful!

Oh, fucking hell.

Tweedle fucking Deutsch!

Mr Real Thing.

Let's have a good look at you.

Go! - Why the fuck not?

Fucking useless!

Standby! Go!

Go!

Like a sack of shite.

That's fucking diabolical!

Go!

Go! Go! Go!

Go! Go!

Stand by.

Go!

Go!

That is a fucking order.

Allez! Courage, soldat!

Sautes!

Silence!

Fuck's sake.

Absolutely no chance!

Get that out of the way now!

That is a fucking order.

On enleve. Allez, on retire. On retire.

Enleverz.

Pourquoi pas!

He did it!

He did it!

Listen up, chaps.

Prime the 30-minute fuses.

Riley.

You and Jim head for the petrol dumps round there.

Seekings, you take Cooper and eradicate that harbour.

Churchill, I should hope you've got your swimming cap.

Rendezvous back here, 27 minutes.

Go.

Shit.

I don't know any Italian.

Do you know any German?

Bit of opera libretto. Wagner.

We have to convince them that we're Germans.

Try it.

Ja!

Run.

Catch.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, shit.

Oh, they've overrun the truck. Fucking marvellous.

How the fuck are we gonna get out of here now?

How long, Jim?

We have about four minutes.

Where the fuck is Stirling?

OK, one more minute and we leave 'em behind.

Hey.

What the fuck is he doing?

There's no point hiding.

Stand up straight. Walk with us.

They've set up road blocks.

OK, Cooper, let's try something new.

Do your line.

Twenty seconds.

They're looking for Germans with beards.

Yes, on reflection, terrible idea not to shave.

♪ Oh ♪

♪ What is so bright for the duce, the duce… ♪

Fuck it.

Hey!

♪ …the fever, oh, fever ♪

♪ In armoured cars, they strum guitars ♪

♪ Till frilly white skirts lay the duce with black shirts ♪

♪ Oh ♪

♪ What is so bright for the duce, the duce ♪

♪ He can't put it over the Greeks… ♪

Now, when exiting a city

especially one where you have created a good deal of chaos

your approach to checkpoints

can be much less subtle.

I'm now 25!

26!

So what will you say to your father when we get back to London?

I will say, "Holy, holy…

holy fuck."

♪ Oh… ♪

Gobshites.

You don't want to join us?

I'm only staying to make sure you don't damage any of our property.

Your men are very drunk.

You know, you make me curious.

Don't you have anyone back in England?

Nobody in England, no, I'm Irish.

And in Ireland, I have a mother.

Why'd you ask?

What you did today…

I wondered if you'd do that if you loved someone.

Ooh…

We British don't have these pointless conversations.

But in my opinion…

loving somebody can make you too fond of life, which…

can turn you into a coward.

A coward?

How so?

My friend, they're just playing, huh?

It's just a piano.

Your wee loyal German sounds like a Nazi to me.

Paddy!

You Nazi rat!

Touch that piano again!

Get him up!

Paddy! Watch out, Paddy!

Come on!

Put the gun down!

Put the gun down! - Paddy, don't!

Fucking…

Get him out of here!

Calm down, Pad!

Captain Mayne. - Get out.

Captain Mayne…

whatever the cause of your pain

you have my deepest sympathy.

I can hear it but I don't believe it.

What the… — Couple of souvenirs from Benghazi.

What's left of it.

I sent you out in an Opel Blitz

and you come back in a fucking pram and a handcart!

Oh, bollocks.

There is a rumour going around in Cairo

that Winston Churchill's son went on a mission

behind enemy lines with the SAS.

Of course, no one but a fool like me would believe such a rumour.

Mr Churchill. How was your trip?

Oh, you know, bit of sightseeing.

How the hell did you manage to hitch a ride with my driver?

Oh, she has friends in very high places.

I would like to speak to Mr Churchill.

I have a message for him to give to his father.

Randolph, may I introduce you to a single cause

walking on two legs, with a single goal

and many, many strategies for achieving it.

In London, the British prime minister tends not to take General de Gaulle's calls.

I thought I'd try another method of getting his attention.

Well, you certainly have my attention.

Well, permission denied, Randy.

And perhaps, Miss Mansour, you would come with me

and explain exactly how you managed to get a hold of such confidential information.

Your journey was wasted.

Who told you he was being picked up here?

Dudley Clarke.

The other reason I came was to see how you were.

Thank you.

For what?

For not smelling of blood or petrol.

I'm sorry.

It takes me a while to get back to normal.

Before I go, I take these, uh…

amphetamines.

When I get back, I take barbiturates.

I am myself…

in between.

But…

I'm not in-between quite yet.

How long?

About an hour after sunset, I will stop shaking.

And then about an hour after that, I will stop…

hearing explosions.

May I stay for that?

How was Cairo?

When the wind blows from the west, you can hear Rommel's Panzer divisions

straining at the leash.

But also buzzing with talk about the rogue heroes of the SAS

and the phantom major who leads them.

And how is Dudley Clarke responding to all the glory?

It seems he's inpatient for your destruction.

The trucks we were given by Intelligence

for our attack on Benghazi had no code numbers on the roof.

We were sent out as sitting ducks.

As head of French Intelligence, Cairo

I'm officially warning you to be aware of your intelligence operatives.

They do not all mean you well.

So, you see, I'm not just devoted to one cause.

I'm also concerned for you.

Did I hear "Head of French Intelligence, Cairo?"

I reported my boss for being a drunk.

For the good of France, I do bad things.

Oh, God.

You're quite a number, aren't you?

What is a number?

Now, as a general rule

I avoid possession and being possessed.

So please do not waste your concern on me.

I am sorry…

your life is no business of mine.

You can make it your business.

Rock cover of "La Marseillaise"

Why the fuck are they not training?

Oh, dear.

Yeah.

My men have refused to work under Captain Mayne's command.

My men have decided that he's a madman.

Two of them have broken jaws

one has three broken ribs

and among the broken barrels on the floor, you'll find several teeth.

Alright, I will speak to him.

He needs to be put in a fucking cage!

Destroy many planes?

Two boats.

Oh, we're counting boats now, are we?

Yes.

I knew you would make a fucking useless training officer.

I knew you were… deeply unsuited to the task.

So why did you do it then?

I did it because you were proving to be a more effective

commanding officer than me.

I did it to win the game, there it is.

If this is some kind of double bluff

I'm telling you, it isn't very smart.

Oh, it's the truth.

My father taught me to win at everything, in any way possible.

Who shot the gazelle? - It was that or a Frenchman.

Why did you fight them?

Because they're French.

So it's your daddy's fault? —- Oh, yes.

Because of my daddy, I already feel the urgent need to shoot a gazelle

to match you. — So go fucking shoot one then.

Apologise to the Frenchmen! —- No fucking chance.

There's a herd of gazelle two miles from here.

Go get it out of your system. - I blame my father.

What's your excuse for being such a mad fucker?

I don't need a fucking excuse.

Right, well, one night, someone's going to come in here

and they're gonna slit your throat.

They are welcome to try.

What sort of boats?

Torpedo boats.

Yes, and half the harbour.

What a shame you missed it.

And you're serious about the gazelle?

Yes.

You want to shoot one, you need to shoot a gazelle?

Oh, yes. - Good.

Cos they've probably all fucked off now anyway.

Oh, you mad Irish cunt.

Ah, the use of "Irish" as an adjective

is very provoking.

Oh, yeah? So we go to it. You and me, in the sand.

Come on! - I would beat you to death.

I would pull a knife.

I'd take your knife from you, cut off your balls

and stir them into a Bloody Mary

which I would then force-feed down your Jacobean throat.

You need to forget about Eoin McGonigal.

There.

That was me pulling a knife.

It's best for you to leave this tent right now.

No.

I know you went to find him, to bury him properly.

Well, now you must bury him in your head.

No one can bear undeclared grief, Paddy.

Now, I am going to relieve you of your training duties.

I didn't find his body.

I didn't find his body.

I know.

Paddy.

Churchill's son turned up as promised.

He came with us, he was very impressed.

He will lobby for us with his father. Also, we are apparently…

the talk of Cairo.

Now is our moment.

I'm going to ask GHQ for Jeeps

Vickers machine guns, ammunition, explosives

more men.

The war is in the balance.

We can change the course of it while you sulk like Achilles in your tent.

I'll not apologise.

But you can tell the Frenchmen that I shot that gazelle for them

and that I will roast it on a fire and share the meat with them.

I am gradually coming round to the notion that they might actually be good men.

All our men are good men.

They just have the misfortune to be led by us.

Come on.

I'll help you cook this fucking thing.

Allez a table!

Messieurs. A table.

Come on!

To our future jollies together

and the defeat of fascism.

Why don't you pretend to be bloody civilised and get in a line?

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