All language subtitles for SAS.Rogue.Heroes.S02E03.720p.iP.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.HFR.H.264-RAWR_track3_[eng]

I was given orders to break bread
with the Resistance

and the people known as
the Cosa Nostra. Incoming!

This breakfast was not my idea.

But it has taught me a lesson -

be selective about the
orders that you obey.

The next stage of this war
is invasion.

Taking territory inch by inch.

It is the SRS who are spearheading
the operation.

I'm going to move closer
to the front line.

Your plan is to join my brother in
Sicily? I want you to write to him,

and I want you to tell him
to accept me, and help me.

After the attack on Cannizzaro,
you will embark for the mainland.

This is just the snout.

It is our job to take the whole hog,

right the way up to the tail.

A whole new detachment
is being deployed to Augusta.

It is called 2SAS.

So, the name SAS

is stolen for your own use.

Can I invite you to welcome back
my good friend, my conscience

and my voice of reason,
Staff Sergeant Jimmy Almonds!

GUNFIRE

I'm looking for a man of the cloth,

and I am also looking
for a stolen donkey.

Jawohl.

Heil Hitler. Heil Hitler.

Nein! Nein!

HE YELLS

HE YELLS

Runnin' Wild
by Airbourne

and my foot to the floor

and your moaning whine

come rain or shine

So, we're getting
pretty good at this.

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

What does he want to be
fucking good at?

He wants to be good at
what they used to do before.

Before you begin...

..where do you stand, as regards
to the invasion of your country,

and my role in it?

Mussolini.

Il Duce.

What do you think of him? Hmm?

Mussolini?
HE SPITS

Mussolini...

Next question.

As a barber, how would you feel

if somebody ordered you to stop
cutting hair and start baking bread?

My English not so good.

Flour and water and salt

and fucking ovens

and early fucking starts.

You would say,

"I am trained to cut a man's hair,
not baking fucking buns."

You would say,

"I am trained to shave a man's face,
not feed it fucking cakes."

You would say,

"You could get anybody to get
fucking mush all over their hands.

"What I want is an open razor,

"so that I can do the work
that I am uniquely qualified for."

Do you want oil?

No, I don't want oil.

I want rum

and omelettes

and an open desert.

And I want my friend back.

That's what I want.

Always tell your troubles to someone

who has no idea
what you are talking about.

Is that your blue jacket? Yeah.

I would like to purchase it
from you.

Last night, when we arrived in
your wee little town,

there was a welcoming party.
Germans.

We had a disagreement
as to the ownership of your country.

My own jacket is now so soaked
in blood as to be unwearable.

I shall be my fucking self.

Rouge, Rouge
by Christie Laume

SINGING IN FRENCH

Did they take any prisoners? No.
The SAS boys dispatched every one.

There were no prisoners taken.

As you've seen, they used...cutlery.

When the fighting is arm's length,
what do you expect?

Stories go round
among the regular soldiers

about the SAS boys who go in first.

They're actually SRS. What stories?

That they're...wild men.
No rules, you know?

HORN TOOTS

Let's try and avoid
relaying any idle gossip about

mad men and savages to anyone.

Especially not her.

She's a journalist and a spy.
No, sir. Of course not, sir.

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

Well, yes.

There is much to be admired.

Get those bodies covered up.
Yes, sir.

Lieutenant Colonel Bill Stirling.
2SAS.

We missed each other in Sicily.

You mean you avoided me and ignored
my request for an interview.

I don't really do interviews.
Rather busy fighting a war.

I knew your brother in Cairo.

Yes, and because he is my brother,

he told me
absolutely nothing about you.

He finds impractical things
impossible to talk about.

But when he thought you were
dead, he came to my apartment

and he was as unlike himself
as I have ever seen him.

"Unlike himself".

I mean he was...
He was quite upset.

"Quite upset".

You sound like him.

It's all rather awful in there.

I don't think you want to see things
you can't then unsee. Right.

It all looks quite gruesome,

but these encounters almost always
end with hand-to-hand.

Where is Paddy Mayne,
and how do I get to him?

How do you GET to him?

I have accreditation
to report from combat zones.

Look, we both know who you are.
You're a spy... I really don't need

anybody's help to reach him. You're
here to relay news on the invasion

to the Free French government
in exile.

And the news will be wherever
Paddy Mayne is, not where you are.

Miss Mansour, I'll have one of my
men take you back to the harbour.

I have dead German soldiers
to identify, bodies to bury,

photographs of loved ones to collate
and send to the Red Cross.

It can be work that is
quite troublesome to the soul.

And I'm afraid Paddy Mayne

and his men are strictly

out of bounds to journalists

and reporters of any sort.

Your brother really didn't tell you
anything about me, did he?

Colonel.

Sir.

Colonel Stirling.

You've applied to take part
in tomorrow's escape attempt

and, yet, you've only been here
for three months.

Three months. Yes, quite right.

Not only have I counted
every single brick in my cell,

I've also given them names.
As I'm sure you understand...

There is a long queue of prisoners
who want to escape from this place,

and a long list of men
who need to escape,

and a handful who simply
cannot countenance

spending another single day
locked up in here.

And then there is me.

And as you can see,
I am a wildly, madly special case.

There are occasionally exceptional
circumstances in which...

Certain prisoners are invited
to take part in escape attempts

ahead of the queue - IF they can
prove that their escape would,

I think in your manifesto, it says,

"If the prisoner's freedom
and return to active service

"would significantly help
the execution of the War."

Well, gentlemen, my unit

is currently spearheading
the invasion of Italy

and is in the very...capable hands
of my brother, Bill.

But, you see, when we were young,
I always stole the bike

and won the race and got the girl
and scrumped the most apples.

And I really do believe
that I can make substantial

and significant improvements
to the execution of the campaign

to liberate Italy.
And, my God, if you do not add me

to the top of your list,
I will walk out of my cell,

stroll across the courtyard,
walk right up to the gates,

tell the guards to fuck off,

in Italian.

I will then be shot...

..and it'll be your fault.

by The Fall

Fraser.

Tonkin. Letter.

COIN JINGLES

Postman. Beware of the dog.

going, clothes won't help

That sign there says

"SAS members only",

but you can sign in as a guest.

I AM a fucking member.

You know, I blame my mother,
but I cannot get used to

not being able to wash my hands
in these nasty little places.

Fucking salute me,
damn you, Sergeant!

Actually, I made him a lieutenant.

Where...are his bloody pips?

Where are your bloody pips, Johnny?

On my tunic.

And where is your bloody tunic?

It's covered in blood, Colonel.

That will be all.

You came to say "well done".

GHQ are cock-a-hoop. Cock-a-hoop?

Well, I am cock-a-doodle-fucking-doo
that they are cock-a-hoop.

"Tolerate Paddy Mayne's
eccentricities,

"in return for exceptional results
in the battlefield."

That's my instruction from GHQ.
But you're getting close to saying

"fuck it" and taking a swing.

HE CHUCKLES

Who am I to you, Paddy?

Your headmaster? The headmaster
at my school was my friend.

He gave me cigarettes.
Well, some figure of authority.

You remind me of the gamekeeper
who broke my home-made fishing rod

and I broke his home-made arm.

Why are you wearing a blue jacket?

I paid handsomely for it.

None of your men are
wearing uniform. Aye.

You see, sir, what happens when you
storm a bunker full of Germans

with your bayonet fixed,

in that brief, but energetic
wee dance that follows,

you tend to get quite a bit of blood
on your clothes.

Some of it, your own,
but mostly German blood. Either one

tends to stain your regulation-issue
clothing quite badly.

So you have to go shopping.

Have you boys of SAS Number 2
had the call to go shopping yet

or are your uniforms
still just dandy?

There is a woman. A journalist.

Aye, your brother just
wrote to me about her.

What did my brother say?

His personal communication with me
remains private.

It's the French woman
he was fucking in Cairo.

His description was
a touch more poetic.

This woman must not be allowed
anywhere near the front line

and must not be privy to
any details of the strategy

of our advance.
Oh, I'd say the strategy

is plain for anyone to see, anyway.

You throw the SAS at the enemy
defences like a handful of gravel.

You use the SAS the way you would
use any conventional Commando unit,

with no regard to
our particular skills.

Italy is not the Great Sand Sea,
Paddy. There are civilians here -

men, women and children -

and I do not trust you
and your "members only"

to display your particular skills
among innocent people.

You don't trust ME
with innocent people?

I don't trust you to draw the line.
Knowing which lives to spare,

knowing which houses
to blow to pieces

and which houses to drive around,

knowing the difference between enemy
and friend and all those in-between.

Nothing I have seen or heard
about you and your men

gives me any reason to trust you.

So, the gravel
will continue to be thrown. Yes.

The gravel will continue
to be thrown.

You will continue to
be a spearhead force.

And your next operation
starts tonight.

Your job is to liberate Termoli
from the Germans,

taking out the rear guard at
various points along the way.

The Italian Resistance and Riley
will be sent ahead to reconnoitre

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

Shit!

Your papers were forged by
British SOE. You'll be OK.

Just act like a normal husband
and let your wife do the talking.

They talk strange.
Not like Termoli people.

Where are they from?

She sounds Sicilian.

Their papers say
they are from Campomarino,

but they sound Sicilian.

Am I wrong?

Hmm.

I say we let the others go

and hold her for more questions.

Let them pass.

No! No!

So, have you decided to try charm?

We got off on the wrong foot.

Hmm. Please.

That is the expression, yes? Yes.

The smell of blood and the proximity
of corpses probably didn't help.

You appear to have opened
your own restaurant.

The people in the local cafe
are very grateful to the British

that their business
wasn't destroyed.

Though most of their wine
was stolen by Paddy's men.

Well, luckily, it seems
they left behind the good stuff,

because Paddy knows nothing
but poitin and Guinness.

Was my brother in love
with you, do you think?

Or should the question be -
IS my brother in love with you?

Love doesn't really suit him.

Well, he was always very jealous
of his possessions.

He had an air rifle I used to
use on purpose to annoy him.

Am I a possession?

I'm quite blunt sometimes.
And tired.

You look very tired. Yes.

Doing nothing and achieving
nothing can be very tiring.

What exactly do you want from me?

I hear Paddy Mayne is heading for
Termoli, yes?

It is my job.

It's what I do.

By the way, do I call
you William or Bill?

Bill.

I prefer William.
HE LAUGHS

Before Termoli, Paddy will have
to overcome the German rear guard.

Yes. When the sun sets...

..God help the rear guard.

Looks like some of them
are moving out.

Are you coming with us on
this little jolly, Paddy,

or are you going to stay
and wash your feet?

I have decided to be more human.

I have decided to communicate
with my human body,

my flesh,

since I am not a machine.

I am not a killing machine. They
cannot put that against my name.

To send men to die like cattle
is not my human purpose.

I am human fighting human,

and I draw the line in the sand
with my human feet.

And I draw that line pretty
fucking well, if I may say!

Pretty fucking well.

You OK, Paddy?

What passing-bells
for these who die as cattle?

Only the monstrous
anger of the guns.

Only the stuttering
rifles' rapid rattle

Can patter out their hasty orisons.

No mockeries now
for them; no prayers nor bells...

Fuck.

Fuck, I forgot the words.

I never forget the words.

Can you believe it?

They're blowing poetry
out of my head

and replacing it with men screaming.

Paddy?

Have they cut the wire?

Seekings hooted like an owl,
so they're in position.

So let's clean the fuckers out.

Clear!

Ya beauty!

HE LAUGHS

Silenzio!

SHORT WHISTLE

Watch out for the rats.

What? Off you go.

SHORT WHISTLE

Right.

Right.

SQUEAKING

SQUEAKING

Jesus!

Bloody size of that one! Christ!

HE GRUNTS

Oh!

Hey!

HE YELLS

Bang! He was out cold...

..and my father cut his hand free

and, uh, left him in the snow.

Yeah. You left him?

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

Scusi...

Who found him?

Hmm? Who found him?
Who found David in the snow?

You said he was unconscious.
Oh, God, I don't remember.

My sister, I think.

You see, the ethos of the family

was...you are responsible
for your own actions.

You're also responsible
for your own inaction.

When will your new unit be ready?

Oh, you're very good, aren't you?

At what?

2SAS will be ready
for its first engagement

with enemy forces
in five days' time.

Location classified.

Subsequent comparisons between 1SAS,
formed by my brother,

and 2SAS, formed by me,
will be strictly forbidden.

I think I understand
your relationship with your brother.

I have a younger sister...
Oh, please, please, please,

spare me the strategies.

Particularly those that imitate
empathy and understanding.

I deserve no empathy, sitting here
drinking wine, when the real work's

being done away from here
by a man who drinks poitin.

SCREAMING

He's firing at shadows, Paddy.

He's buggered.

Offer him surrender.
I just remembered the words.

..Nor any voice of mourning
save the choirs

The shrill, demented choirs
of wailing shells...

No, no, no grenades, Paddy!
..And bugles calling for them

from sad shires. Hold your fire!

Hold your fire. I surrender!

I surrender, please!

He's coming out.

I surrender! What candles...
Easy, Paddy. Easy.

..may be held to speed them all?
Easy, Paddy.

Not in the hands of boys,
but in their eyes

Shall shine the holy
glimmers of goodbyes.

I am a captain of the
Panzergrenadier division...

..and I surrender.

I have a comrade in there,
badly wounded.

He... He's my brother.

My younger brother.

My dear brother.

He will not live.

He... He's in great pain...

I... I tried, but I cannot do it
by myself.

Please. An act of mercy.

He's lying in the straw.

Condemn his mortal soul to God.

The pallor of girls' brows
shall be their pall;

Their flowers the tenderness
of patient minds

And each slow dusk...

..a drawing-down of blinds.

SOBBING

We've got rum.

Come on.

It's been an odd evening.

As if they stopped the war for us.

Not for us, of course,
I don't mean it like that.

Sometimes, you can stop the war
in your mind for a few hours.

I've had more wine tonight
than I've had in a long time.

Though my brother would
have had twice as much

and been perfectly sober.

You said you would have someone
brief me on the progress of the war.

That would be helpful.

Helpful.

But still, you'll want more.

Of course.

Always, I will want more.

Goodnight, William.

Un mese di isolamento.

Reggie, Jimmy, put the radio
together. Get a signal.

McDiarmid, break open the rum.

Fraser, light a fire, brew up.

All the rum we brought from Cairo,
we finished off with that

fucking German officer
who wouldn't stop sobbing.

But we do have Italian grappa.
Fuck's sake!

The rest of you, prepare your
weapons and write letters home.

We go tonight.

According to my
Baedeker Guide of 1930,

there are two good restaurants
in Termoli.

I reckon they'll close pretty
sharpish when we get there, then.

Where did you get a Baedeker Guide
from, anyway?

I found it in Augusta,

when we were hanging around,

waiting for the order to move out.

Waiting for orders.

Before the War,

I'd never been further than Margate.

I'm looking forward to France.
I think France will be nice.

How do you know
we're going to France?

That's the word from GHQ.

They're going to send us...
Will you shut your fucking hole?!

Talking like fucking soldiers!

We ARE soldiers, Paddy.
Soldiers waiting to be told,

like a handful of soldiers
waiting to be thrown,

wondering where
they'll send us next.

We were talking about restaurants,
actually, Paddy.

Aye, yous were talking like
ordinary fucking soldiers!

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

GLASS SMASHES

GHQ did say communication

would be at four o'clock

and it's four o'clock.

Paddy?

If GHQ said you should do it,

then just fucking do it.

Kersh.

Ahem...

Right.

OK, password.
Blunt approach zero class Rominex.

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

GHQ password, salt, pepper, gra...

OK, Paddy, you have one minute until
our signal's tracked and located.

Riley, just tell me about
tonight's entertainment.

We walked down main street.

They are not expecting us.

It's defended, but not fortified.

No field artillery,
except a couple of howitzers

covering the main route.

Most defensive positions
are near the bell tower.

In the centre, there's a 20mm
AA gun position

and a couple of MGs on AA mounts.

Road block at the southern entrance.
Machine guns nearby.

We saw at least one Panzer there,

but evidence of multiple tracked
vehicles heading out of town.

Most likely, other tanks.

But, Paddy, the bad news is

half the soldiers in town
had flashes on their uniforms.

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

Triangulation of our position
will be complete in ten seconds.

Tell the Resistenza
we move up from the south.

Nineteen-0-five-hundred.

Five, four... And, Riley, find some
fucking rum. ..three, two, one.

All right.

Yeah.

Gather round, lads!

Riley has reconnoitred the town.

This mission will not
be about hardware.

We will be a surprise,

so there will be no heavy artillery
or tanks to meet us.

This will be about soldiers.

The locals have been told to hunker
down and make themselves safe.

The Resistance are moving in
with Riley as we speak.

Half the soldiers in Termoli

wear a flash on their arms,

which says they are veterans
of the Cretan campaign,

which means they'll be

very good at what they do...

..so we will have to be better.

Highway 16, Termoli,
Campomarino road.

Head north until you reach
the Campomarino bridge.

Blow it up.

HE WHISTLES

CHATTERING IN GERMAN

SHOUTING

OK, so, Alessia,

there is an SAS tradition.

You keep a head count of all the
hardware you destroy. Oh, yeah?

Yeah, but since you're not SAS,

I guess you can give this one to me.

I don't think so.

Engage! Move! Ready!

What's the craic? Well,
I told our Italian friends here

you'd be here at five minutes past,

so we got started without you.

I don't have Italian friends.

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

Jock, try and resist your natural
Scottish instinct to run at them

with your tongue out, all right?
Fuck you!

For reasons that baffle me,
Paddy still needs you alive.

Covering fire!

Reckon he's got a death wish,
or what? Or whisky.

Or some kind of bravery.

And that. And being Scottish.

Hey! Hey! Hello.

My name is McDiarmid. You?

No English!
Good, I fucking hate the English.

Paddy? Flank the fuckers, now.

SHOUTING

Fuck! McDiarmid! Fucking wait!

Wait.

You two, take point.

On the alley.

Now! Go, go, go.

SHOUTING

Keep your head against the wall!

Move!

Position secure!

Jock, fucking move! Fucking move!

Keep pushed on the wall,
on the wall!

Move up, move up! Covering!

Move in!

Move on, move on!

I hope this piano isn't
a Stradivarius, Paddy!

Stradivarius made violins, Reg.

Don't fuck about. Don't...

Fucking hell! Move on! Move on!

Get in there! Get in there!

Move in! Arsehole! You arsehole!

Covering fire! Covering fire!

Move forward!

Hold your fire! Hold your fire!

Hold your fucking fire!

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

Fucking move it! Hands up!

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

Right, men, round them up.

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

Normal rules apply. Move! Move!

If they cry, be nice,

but do not tolerate any arrogance.

And then, remembering traditional
procedure with regard to

company morale,
the commanding officer

praised his men
for their competence.

Aye, yous did all right.

Well done, lads!

Well done.

MUSIC BLARES

SHE SHOUTS

Keep moving, come on! Keep moving.

Quick, come on.

WHISTLING

None of these soldiers
who surrendered are wearing

the insignia of the
Cretan campaign on their arms.

Yep. The Resistenza said

they saw some soldiers
heading north in organised units.

So, the real fellas made
a tactical withdrawal,

which means they'll regroup
and counterattack.

Most probably, tonight.

I fear this liberation party
may be a wee bit premature.

GUNFIRE

Take cover!

Get down! Move!

Move, move!

Move, Byron!

Do we know how they got away?

Yeah, they were seen crossing
the Campomarino bridge.

Fuck!

I know you're relatively new
to the SAS,

but traditionally, in situations
where the odds are overwhelming

and victory is impossible,
we have one simple order.

May I? Do it.

Every man for himself!

Oh! Fuck it!

Halt! Hande hoch!

SPEAKING GERMAN

Forwards.

Lieutenant John Eliot Tonkin.
200156 1st SAS.

Attached to Eighth Army.

I am offering my surrender.

The famous SAS, huh?

Commando, yes?

GERMAN SPEECH

I hear SAS like to drink rum.

Come, my friend.

We have rum.

Didn't understand a word
you were saying.

If your appearance here...

..is because I am concussed...

..and sick in the head,

then please...

..please, God, do not make me well.

Walls are thick, cellars are deep

and we have radio communications,
so we can call for help.

Johnny.

No Tonkin? No.

No sign of him.

Walls and masonry
fit for fortification.

I knew you'd like it.

The reason the shelling has stopped
is because they are moving

their Panzer tank divisions
to the edge of the town.

They will make their move
tonight or tomorrow.

But our orders are
to take Termoli...

..and hold it to the last man,
come what may.

And that is exactly what
we are going to do.

And there is no point calling
for help, because there isn't any.

All we are...

..is a handful of gravel.