Soldier: What we stopped for?
Indistinct shouts
Indistinct chat—fer
My, uh, truck is running low on fuel
so the rest must be the same.
Permission to bring up the fuel trucks.
Tobruk is 120 miles.
We need to refuel.
Yes.
I know.
Right.
So you should give the order to bring up...
Oh, please tell me
that we brought...
Petrol trucks with us on this convoy?
As a matter of fact, we didn't.
I've been watching my own fuel Gauge moving inexorably toward empty
and I've worked out that what it must be, you see
is that the convoy has been fuelled with just enough petrol
for a journey of 500 kilometres.
Right.
But the journey from Cairo to tobruk
is 500 miles, old boy.
Indeed.
There are frenchmen, you see...
In the transport department.
Frenchmen, right.
That'll be it.
So we will not reach tobruk
and the siege of tobruk will not be relieved
and the bombs and the shells will continue to fall
and hundreds more men will die.
Yes.
And, stirling, I don't care who your father was.
You are supposed to address me as "sir".
Engines spluti'er
piss off.
He yells
Thunder rumbles
Car horn hon ks
man yells in arabic
there will be another fuck—up by ghq tomorrow!
Bell rings
Ah, yes, whisky.
I won!
I won, I won on a horse called "smoky".
Girls didn't make it tonight because of the rain.
Invited to feel regret, he felt no regret.
I like you. Do you know why?
Because if I tell you a joke, you pretend that it's funny.
So here goes, why did the chicken not reach the end of the road?
He chuckles
because...
It was a chicken who had volunteered for the commandos
the British commando regiment
and so the order came down from ghq
for the chicken to set off down the road.
The fucking road.
And so the chicken packed up his equipment, wanked off his reckless urges
prayed to god, got in his vehicle, set off down the road
and then there ahead, right ahead
at exactly 120 miles...
Outside of tobruk...
Was the punchline of this very, very funny joke.
What punchline?
Oh, it's a British military secret.
He chuckles
So we are stood down, again.
So, the chicken stays in Cairo, goes to the races
it rains, and the girls didn't make it.
And you know something?
You hate this place.
I hate this peace.
But war, my friend...
Is where you find it. Come on.
Australian soldier: Bottle of arak and two glasses.
Ah, pom.
Hey, pom?
Any of you poms ever leave fucking Cairo?
Any of you brits even seen an Italian yet?
Ah, Australians. I love Australia.
Wildlife and fauna...
Designed by a lunatic.
Fuck you.
Paddy: If the heats of hate and lust
in the house of flesh are strong
let me mind the house of dust
where my sojourn shall be long.
In the nation that is not, nothing stands that stood before
there revenges are forgot
and the hater hates no more.
And naked to the hangman's noose, the morning clocks will ring.
Metal scrapes
How's your colleague?
I hope I did no permanent damage.
Irish fucker.
Fucker, first and foremost.
Irish is a contributing factor perhaps
but in other times, I am a friend to the friendless.
Your colleague was being unpleasant to a smaller man.
It got my goat.
Well, we are about to be unpleasant to you.
You won't be using military policeman as a punchbag anymore.
You're a mental case.
No one'll be surprised to find you dangling in the morning.
And yon the gallows clank.
Well, if you want me to walk on air
yous are gonna have to find naked Nick first.
Cos I'm used to uneven battles, boys, so...
Begin your search.
Explosion
jock: Desert sores, dysentery, sand in your arse
sand in your eyes, sand in your lungs
sand in your kidneys, sand in your foreskin...
All will be forgotten when the blood is up.
Explosion — take it.
Now... take a drink of rum.
Explosion — men yell
drink, do not think.
Do not be yourself tonight.
Remember this.
When we are among them, your mother is not watching.
Let's move. — mortar whistles
explosion
Soldiers chatter in Italian
Ten seconds, then mad.
Wild.
You even seen action?
Repeatedly stood down, I'm afraid.
Now, we've seen action. — ooh, I'm sensing resentment.
You fucking arsehole.
And I understand it.
When one has faced danger
oh, it takes a long time to lose the animal rage.
Talks like a fucking typewriter.
The rain always does this to people. Why don't you leave him alone, huh?
Yeah?
We lost two good men.
Theft.
I'm afraid theft is something I cannot tolerate, but...
If we are going to engage
first, let me give you a small warning.
Now, I am a particular kind of soldier.
A commando.
I trained with other men like myself
some live only to fight and kill the enemy.
Others are careless of uniforms and w/I/ fight anyone at all.
There are mercifully few of us
but in war...
We are allowed to be the beasts that we are.
Canary chirrups
we are taught to kill silently, and it becomes instinctive
almost like swallowing
and the cursed thing is, once learned
you can't unlearn it.
Thunder rumbles — do you understand?
Canary chirrups
you shake hands with a man and you can't help...
But glance at his throat.
Eve/y pan' of the body is an invitation
to be eagerly accepted, as a dog...
Accepts a bone.
Eyes are for thumbs
to push into the brain.
Mouths can be torn open.
Necks are a gift...
Man grunts
god's ultimate mistake.
Man yells — paddy whoops
spoons, tea towels, cups of tea.
They are all weapons.
Everything you touch... — man whimpers
is a weapon. You are a weapon.
If our gentlemen generals had the sense to unleash us...
Can you even imagine?
Ordinary men...
When they encounter us are... — man whimpers
understandably reluctant to make our acquaintance
but if you really do insist.
Fuck!
Not my stop, boys.
Not my fucking stop.
Not today.
He chuckles
Yeah... we're just here for the girls.
My winnings.
Buy yourselves a drink, raise a toast.
To fallen comrades.
Barman chuckles
instead of spending a fucking year in Scotland climbing mountains
sleeping in ditches and strangling cattle
I should've just memorised that speech because it works every time.
He sighs
get me a whisky, old boy.
Music: "It's a hap—halo_|-|a, :, py day" by Arthur askey
to whisky.
♪ It's a hap—hap—happy day ♪
♪ toodle—oodle—oodle—oodle—oodle—ay ♪
♪ for you and me, for us and we ♪
♪ all the clouds have rolled away ♪
♪ it's a hap—hap—happy day ♪
♪ toodle—oodle—oodle—oodle—oodle—ay ♪
♪ the sun shines bright and the world's alright ♪
♪ it's a hap—hap—happy day ♪
♪ four and twenty sunbeams ♪
♪ are dancing round my face ♪
♪ four score and twenty more ♪
♪ are dancing every place ♪
♪ it's a hap—hap—happy day ♪
♪ toodle—oodle—oodle—oodle—oodle—ay ♪
Morning, sir.
♪ You can't go wrong if you sing a song ♪
♪ it's a hap—hap—happy day... ♪
Soldier: Sir.
Fan soueaks noisily
soldier 2: Sir!
Soldier 3: Morning, sir.
Someone fix that fucking thing. — morning, sir.
He groans
doesn't this fucking squeaking drive you insane?
♪ It's a hap—hap—happy day... ♪
Fix the fucking thing!
Sir. — morning, sir.
Officer shouts outside
♪ the sun shines bright and the world's alright ♪
♪ it's a hap—hap—happy day ♪
♪ four and twenty sunbeams ♪
Morning, sir. — ♪ are dancing round my—— ♪
Knock on door
door opens
there's, er, a bit of a thing.
Er, drinks etc, nibbles and whatnot, tonight
at the, uh...
At the what?
At the embassy.
A sort of farewell thing for someone, some old boy going home.
Chance for everyone to, er...
He scoffs a chance for everyone to
formulate a plan for our next assault on tobruk?
What?
A chance for everyone to say goodbye and good luck to him, whoever he is.
And you'll be there, stirling.
Tobruk is under 24—hour bombardment.
A second attempt to relieve tobruk is being discussed.
Actually it'll be a third attempt.
Indeed.
Fan squeaks
the fans don't work.
I can't fucking salute anymore.
The map on the wall keeps being redrawn
and men are dying.
Stirling, what would it take to make you call me sir?
It would take respect.
Stirling, you are not the soldier your father was and you never will be.
You're the kind of drunk and insubordinate malcontent he would've despised.
You will come to the party, you will arrive sober and on time
or you, my friend, will be on a charge.
Plane engines roar
Jock: Our father who art in heaven
hallo wed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come, thy will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our dally bread
and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those
who trespass against us
and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory
forever and ever.
Amen.
Troops!
Attention!
Last night...
We dispatched 50 enemy soldiers
and destroyed one key gunning placement.
We had only one casualty.
Matthews died in the night.
Man clears throat
did you sleep well?
I was exhausted with the work we did, sir, but, uh...
Satisfied with our achievement.
I slept on my boots.
I always sleep well, sir.
We have spent 112 days defending this place
amidst the rats and the scorpions and the flies...
And we must continue to show fortitude.
Plane engine whines
Distant explosion
command are sending another convoy to relieve us.
Our beloved friends at ghq
might this time remember... — nearby explosion
to fill the armoured cars with enough petrol in the tanks
to reach the destination.
They can be quite forgetful.
In the meantime...
Tonight, I will be taking a flight to Cairo on urgent business.
If ghq can't relieve us, I'm formulating a plan
that might just get us out of this mess.
Indistinct cha'iti'er
move out the way!
Horn honks
move!
Move those fucking camels!
Get out the way!
Distant gunfire
Indistinct shouts
move, move, move!
Indistinct cha'iti'er
Sir, permission to steal donated food rations from the Australians.
Permission granted.
So what is it we're looking for, sir?
I got a message from one of the dockworkers who I bribe with hashish.
I asked him...
To keep an eye out
in the swirling chaos of equipment and supplies for parachutes.
And lo...
A set of parachutes have appeared.
And, uh, who do they belong to, sir?
Explosion — crowd yells
jock: This is the British army.
No one owns anything, no one knows anything
nothing is certain, nothing is as it seems
and whatever the fuck you have in your hands belongs to you.
And, uh, what use do you have for parachutes, sir?
I'm going to jump out of aeroplanes with them.
And do you know parachutes, sir?
"Do you know parachutes?"
I know you strap them to your back...
You jump...
The thing becomes enormous...
And you land safely.
Catch the damn thing before it blows into the sea, almonds.
Put it back in.
How, sir?
How the hell should I know?
I think it's meant to be a very precise procedure.
Then be precise.
And have them all loaded onto a truck
and sent to the airstrip for tonight's flight.
Explosion — people yell
oh, and you will be on that flight as well, sergeant.
Along with Riley.
I've decided you are the right kind of men.
The right kind of men for what?
In a world where there are no rules
no order and no organised plan
certain men are identified by war itself as its natural executors
and those natural executors take matters into their own hands.
I've decided to form a parachute regiment.
Riley chuckles — you've decided?
Our generals still think we are fighting the first world war.
They dither and debate every order, and all this
while the Nazis, whose conviction cuts through us like fucking steel blades...
Explosion — people yell
we are chased across the fucking desert.
A comedy... — people scream
except for the viciousness of their ideology.
Riley! Right, let's load 'em up.
Do you know what they're doing to the children in Berlin?
The devil sent me those tins of beef, god sent me those parachutes
and I'm going to give it a whirl.
I am bringing together men of a particular calibre
and you are amongst them.
The others are all insane, in jail, or like me, in despair.
Let's go and win the fucking war.
Music: "Tiggerty—boo" by Joe loss and his orchestra
horn honks
♪ It's grand to know that thumbs are up in england ♪
♪ the sign that shows that everything's ok ♪
♪ the boys have brought a word back home to england ♪
♪ for over there they always used to say ♪
♪ put your thumbs up ♪
♪ and say it's tiggerty—boo ♪
♪ cos tiggerty—boo means everything will be fine ♪
♪ you'll always wear a smile if you'll only say ♪
♪ it's tiggerty—boo, tiggerty—boo, tiggerty—boo today ♪
♪ put your thumbs up ♪
♪ and say it's tiggerty—boo... ♪
Music warps and slows
he sighs
Hangover?
Justified by inner rage.
What do you need?
A medical reason not to attend a fucking cocktail party
and while you're at it, get me out of drill for a few days.
You can't rationalise drill because it is meant to make you accept
that the meaningless is important.
Last night, there was an officer looking for you.
He, uh, wanted to know if the dysentery you reported two weeks ago was genuine.
They think you are malingering.
It's not me that's fucking malingering, it's ghq.
Layer upon layer of fossilised shit.
A freemasonry of mediocrity.
Anyway, they're onto you.
Court martial. Invented illnesses.
Stirling: Are you lying?
Of course. — they laugh
ah. So what did he actually ask you about?
I'd been at the dope, so it's all a bit unclear.
He had a message from a lieutenant Jack lewes in tobruk.
Stirling: Jock lewes. — whatever.
Dear god, you are through the roof.
Ah, whisky, bang, bang, bang.
One after the other.
Memories of Scotland.
You know how a bear in a cage
sort of stands there and sways from side to side...
Doctor inhales — he laughs
he coughs
doctor laughs squeakily
so what did jock lewes say?
In squeaky voice: Ah, here.
"Go to the empire club tonight, meet paddy mayne
and bring him to the tipperary club
for a reunion of the three musketeers."
What the fuck does that say?
It just... just says "parachutes".
Paddy: Get up, you boy, ya.
The dead arose and appeared to many.
Welcome home.
Paddy: No.
Were you arrested?
Detained.
Were you identified?
I said my name was mr Hyde and I had no papers.
They gave me a 10 shilling fine for not having identification.
They were gonna hang me, as a matter of fact.
For having no ID?
No, for seeking justice.
What is this soup?
It's the gazelle you shot.
Ooh, it's very nice.
Thank you.
You know...
Eventually, of course...
You are going to get yourself hung.
They say it is an exquisite death.
Though, who the people are that know that is unrecorded.
You're supposed to be in hospital.
Why did you leave?
Well, I don't so much have malaria anymore
as much as share a bed with it.
My only symptom now is soaking the sheets every night.
I sweat so much I'm embarrassed, half the nurses come wring them out.
Mcgonigal laughs
so I went and sweated in a nightclub instead
and somebody got my goat.
There's no more to it than that.
Mmm.
Last night...
Someone was here with a message from a lieutenant jock lewes in tobruk.
Something about parachutes.
You're due at the empire tonight to meet a fella called stirling
to reunite the three musketeers.
Music: "Sing, sing, sing" by Benny Goodman
Woman: Company tonight, sir?
Not tonight, dear.
No, no, no, no. I'm afraid not.
He clears throat
I don't know what a red flower on the table signifies in the language of Cairo
but I'm not looking for a brief accord
if that's what you're thinking.
A brief accord?
You are a poet.
As a matter of fact, I am.
And I'm a journalist.
"And I'm a journalist", said the spy.
Of course I am a spy.
In war, we must all re—purpose our professional talents.
Sorry, old boy. — fuck off.
And what is your purpose?
I am an intelligence officer who reports directly
to the free French government in exile.
General de gaulle.
He scoffs from his bar stool
in a pub in Dean street.
How are you enjoying Cairo, paddy mayne?
How do you know my name?
Lieutenant mayne, your victory over the vichy French at the litani river
was the first piece of good news for the French who oppose Hitler in a long time.
I would like you to give me an assessment of the morale
of the pro—nazi French soldiers that you came into contact with
so that I can file a report to the general.
All the pro—nazi French soldiers
I personally came into contact with are dead.
So...
Their morale is pretty poor, I would say.
My father was a brigadier.
He taught me to ride, shoot and kill.
Kill with cutlery if necessary.
Well, if... if you're in need of cutlery, I'd go and find another table.
I'm here to attend a meeting.
Very well. Apologies. — ah, no.
Fuck it, no. Do you know what? I'll go.
Didn't wanna be here anyway.
I only came to politely say no.
Would you wait for him
and pass on a message for me? — wait for who?
Just tell him paddy mayne says no
because he has decided to go to Burma to fight the Japanese instead.
It'll be a very tall man who will be drunk
or will get drunk
and when you give him my message
he might get angry, so you should leave.
Just tell him paddy mayne says no.
Alright?
"Sing, sing, singii continues
Song ends
crowd applau ds
I would like to introduce to you... Alina carnett.
Dramatic folk music plays
Sorry, this table is booked.
You crept up on me.
You'll have to go, I'm afraid.
I have a message for you.
Ooh. A message from who?
Paddy mayne.
He was here, but he said he has decided
he's going to Burma to fight the Japanese.
He scoffs the...
Right.
He said you would be angry.
No, I'm not.
Was he sober?
I think so.
But he was quite odd. — yes, he is.
Drink, sir?
Whisky. — yes, sir.
He was right. You are tall.
Who the fuck are you?
I'm the deputy head of French military intelligence in Cairo.
Oh, so you're the head of French military intelligence in Cairo
because I know your boss
and he's always drunk.
Are you new? — she laughs
to Cairo, yes.
In every other way, I'm not new.
Hmm.
Listen, in other times...
I would love to stay and make conversation
but right now, beauty is not a currency I value.
Ooh, apologies. That sounded like an attempt to be charming, didn't it?
It wasn't meant to be.
It wasn't taken as charming at all. Not even remotely.
Sometimes the French and the British misunderstand each other.
It's like the difference between kilometres and miles.
The result can be unfortunate.
You heard about that?
You will learn that I tend to hear about everything.
Waiter: Whisky.
I need a car.
Waiter: Where to, sir?
Tipperary fucking tea club.
Lieutenant stirling...
For the avoidance of doubt
I share your impatience with the conduct of the war
and I intend to do something about it.
Crowd applau ds
crowd cheers
Mcgonigal grunts cheers, lads.
He sings indistinctly
Well...
Did you go and meet him?
I did.
There were red flowers and French spies.
And? What did you tell him?
I didn't tell him anything. I left him a message to say I'm going to the far east.
You are? — aye.
So, whatever it is he and that mad martinet, lewes
whatever it is they're planning
they can do it without me.
Who are they anyway?
Ah, just men I trained with.
Stirling, you could dismiss as a drinker...
Gambler...
One of those toffs, you know, who climbed through the ranks
on the branches of their family tree.
Lewes, you could say is a bully
with a bitter little mind.
Or you could dismiss him too.
But you don't dismiss them.
No, because when the moment comes, they are not themselves.
None of the above is who they are, they are...
Well, they are dead men
just awaiting confirmation.
He chuckles like me.
But as I say, I'm going to the far east.
Ship me somewhere east of Suez
where the best is like the worst.
The far eastern theatre will be a grand show when it starts, you know.
Heard you want to come as well.
I'm putting together a unit. I can request you if you want.
Yeah.
Fuck it.
Why not?
Indistinct cha'iti'er — snooker balls clati'er
thank you very much...
Ah!
Where's mayne?
You were supposed to bring him.
Mayne says he's going to Burma to fight the Japanese.
We're not at war with Japan yet.
No, but if paddy's going, we will be quite soon.
There's tea.
Oh, enjoy it, old man.
It's for you.
No, it's not.
If not my tea...
I have an idea for you.
A map?
Oh, goodness, this must be serious.
Yes, it's actually a very large map
which is a nuisance.
Excuse me, gentlemen, I'd like to use this table for a demonstration.
How long will you be?
It's a tournament, we're going to be here all night.
And if you're gonna stand there staring, we will charge you admission.
Th ey laug h
yes. Uh, I'm afraid I have a rendezvous at the kit Kat club later
and I don't have all night, gentlemen.
I've just got back from a deep desert patrol
and I am mad as fuck.
Grenade clicks
man: What's he doing? — man 2: The fuck?
Grenade! — man 2: Out! Quickly!
Run! — out the way!
He laughs
my men are bored, they make these little novelties to brighten their day.
This one's excellent if you can't get a seat on the train.
You haven't changed then, stirling?
You haven't grown up or anything?
I'm still about 12.
Stink bombs and bike sheds.
Except... stirling groans
except now the stink is dead bodies.
Ah, if that's what you're proposing, yes.
You drew this yourself?
Ghq maps are inaccurate and outdated.
That's because the Germans keep advancing while we fold our arms and say
"not ideal," "unattractive," "gloomy."
Do you know any general that doesn't speak like a nursery nurse?
The Germans have advanced 800 miles in six weeks.
Everywhere, it's rommel this and rommel that
but in my opinion, he's made a mistake.
He's moved too fast.
Look at this supply line.
Hmm. It's around 300 miles too long.
So far, we have been attacking the German convoys from the sea.
That is why we are always expected.
Right, and you have a better idea?
Yes.
A doctor stoned on laughing gas said something about parachutes.
Instead of attacking from the sea
we should be attacking from the sea of sand.
We parachute units of selected men into the interior
and then attack rommel's supply line from the desert.
A disciplined group of men.
Ah, discipline?
You see, I myself would consult quickly with Johnny Walker before each engagement.
How would that be with your idea of discipline?
Is that important to you?
It's an indicative example.
I once had this idea in a sweaty dream one night
that all regimental discipline is horseshit.
Each man should be a chess piece that can move in any direction.
His idiosyncrasies are his own business.
The most important thing is courage.
Oh, the most important thing is wit
in every sense of that word.
Anything expected fails. Never be where you are meant to be.
Actually, the first thing we would need to do is prove
that the principle of a parachute drop is sound.
No one has ever parachuted in the desert before.
Not ever.
When a vulture spreads its wings out there, it goes up, not down.
Hmm.
So, someone would need to try it.
Yes.
Just us.
You and I.
I was hoping mayne would join us but we can do it without him.
We prove it can be done
and we prove to each other that we are committed.
No one to stand us down.
What should we call ourselves?
So you're in?
Stirling, are you in?
You stole the parachutes...
I will steal an aeroplane.
Pilot: There's just no way.
There is no...
Ah, lieutenant!
This man claims he has the authority to commandeer my plane.
At ease. He has permission.
I've already explained, this is war work, and we have a licence to behave badly.
I'm a fucking postman, you know. I deliver military mail.
I want to know what's going on.
I want to know who you are and the name of your unit.
Ooh, did you think of a name? — no, not yet.
If you're even considering using my plane to make a parachute drop
you're not going anywhere in this weather, you know.
The forecast has this blowing over in one hour.
No one parachutes in the desert.
We know.
And your parachutes have static lines.
They have what?
Pilot: They have static lines. Look.
These lines have to be clipped to a steel cable attached fore and aft.
My plane is a de havilland, it doesn't have a cable.
Hmm. Well, we'll use the seats.
Yes, we'll tie the parachute cables to the seats.
The legs of the passenger seat.
How much actual parachute training have you had?
We spent three weeks jumping from scaffolding and moving vehicles.
And rolling forwards and sideways.
And the door opens to the wind.
Almonds, take the door off.
Yes, sir.
But by the time this weather blows over, it will be dark.
So, how will you find your way back if it's dark?
Lewes?
The stars. — the stars. Yes.
Sir, with the storm and the failing light, why don't we pick again?
Lewes, it sounds like your sergeant is suggesting we stand down.
We do not fucking stand down anymore.
That should be the name of our unit
"the men who refuse to stand down."
I believe on the grounds of hazard, I could refuse to take you.
If you don't wanna fly
I flew a crop sprayer once.
I'll fly that thing myself.
Good god, he's American.
Even so, he's ok.
You are all fucking mad.
At last, he gets it.
I need a piss.
Chop—chop. — yes, sir.
He yells
Camel grunts
Almonds: Good luck, sir.
Ah. Here, stirling.
Now head back to the airstrip.
60 seconds until we go.
What do you think about just before?
I think about the voice inside of my head that says, "so what?
So fucking what?"
He grunts
Parachute rips — he grunts
He grunts
He exhales
he yells
bones crunch
Father: Did you have a fall, son?
Yes, father, I did.
Am I dead?
Not quite.
In between, I think.
Remember when you said you could climb the old oak tree
with one arm tied behind your back?
You always imagined you could do things you couldn't do
climb higher than your natural limit.
One would've hoped you might've grown out of it by now.
I can't... I can't move my legs, dad.
I can't feel my legs.
He grunts
I can't feel anything below my waist.
Many a time, I've been half in love with easeful death.
Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme.
To take into the air my quiet breath
now more than ever seems it rich to die.
Stirling: No, no, no, no.
That was always your favourite poem.
Always in the back of your mind.
Half in love with easeful death.
I have things to do.
I will not be buried. I will not.
I will not be stood down.
Not even by god.
Do you hear me, god? — shouts echo
do you hear me, father?
I will win this fucking war.
I will not be stood down.