Stirling: Tobruk is under 24—hour bombardment.
The map on the wall keeps being redrawn
and men are dying.
Eve: I share your impatience with the conduct of the war.
And I intend to do something about it.
Right now, beauty is not a currency I value.
Apologies. That sounded like an attempt to be charming, didn't it?
Jock: I've decided to form a parachute regiment.
Almonds: You've decided?
I've decided you are the right kind of men.
The others are all insane
in jail or like me, in despair.
Where's mayne? — he's going to Burma to fight the Japanese.
Heard you want to come as well. — why not?
We're not at war with Japan yet.
If paddy's going, we will be quite soon.
We parachute units of selected men into the interior
and then attack rommel's supply line from the desert.
No one parachutes in the desert. — we know.
I was hoping mayne would join us, but we can do it without him.
What should we call ourselves?
We do not stand down anymore.
That should be the name of our unit.
The men who refuse to stand down.
He yells
bones crunch
Indistinct chat—fer
She knocks
hello?
Hello?
You must be the French person.
He clears throat — are you colonel Dudley wrangel Clarke?
Mmm. At your service.
And this is the, uh, Cairo headquarters of British secret intelligence middle east.
He clears throat
fun, isn't it?
Ambulance bell rings
medic: If we don't get there soon, we're gonna lose him.
Indistinct chati'er
man: Yes, bring them through.
Man groans
nurses chati'er
nurse, this one's fading fast. Get him checked by the doctor.
Nurse: Excuse me. — whoops.
Indira: Dr gamal, here's the list of patients.
So that's 15 from tobruk
twenty from sidi barrani and one from god knows.
This is the one from god knows.
Dr gamal: Shit. Get him through.
Man: Clear the way!
I imagine you're a little surprised I am who I am
this office is what it is and...
I do what I do in the way that I do it.
Nothing surprises me in Cairo
except your Chanel dress. Where did you get it?
Oh. Paris.
You're so beautiful.
Oh, wish I was French.
I'm not French. I'm Algerian.
And how is this your war?
Trying to save Africa from the Nazis.
Close your eyes and imagine it.
If you're spying for the French, I know your boss.
He's a drunk and a heroin addict.
I'm able to negotiate my way around his idiocy.
Oh, good.
In that case, when it comes to anglo—french intelligence operations
in Cairo...
Why don't you and I just keep it between ourselves?
I'd like that.
And may I suggest we start with something rather wonderful?
Oh, shit.
Is that a medical term?
You can hear me?
Do you feel any pain?
What about now?
Mmm. — dr gamal: What do you feel?
Regret.
If I die in this way, it would mean my life was a one—act comedy
with not even an interval for gin and tonic.
Dr gamal: Prepare for surgery now.
Nurse: Quickly. Quickly. — now. Move, move, move.
Clarke: You see, war is about deception
because deception is a war against reality
and reality is the enemy of the soldier
particularly the heroic soldier
who must live a life of heroic fiction
and the fruit of deception is victory.
Death to the truth.
And all its bastard offspring, including fear and caution.
Colonel Clarke, you seem to have invented an entire British regiment.
Yes, from thin air.
He chuckles
I used actors for the photos of soldiers.
Planes are made out of wood and glue.
On aerial reconnaissance, they seem terribly real.
I made six copies of that folder for indiscreet distribution.
I took one to the gauche club last night in my briefcase
where I ran into the attache at the Spanish embassy
as of course I knew I would.
I accidentally left my briefcase under his table for him to find
so that by tomorrow morning, Berlin will be in receipt
of fresh intelligence that the British have a brand new parachute regiment
in east Libya preparing to drop troops behind their lines.
The Italians will send troops back in response
then our glorious leader
commander—in—chief middle east, general auchinleck, will act
sending three British divisions to attack the right flank
which will be almost defenceless. Ez' voila...
A battle won by wood, glue
and my own genius.
You can have that.
Make copies. Leave it where it can be read.
The Spanish and the Portuguese diplomats are the fast tracks to Berlin.
I too have an idea for an operation
which I also think is rather wonderful.
Mm? — but the difference is
my soldiers are real.
Pu lley squeals
Gunshots
Did you find anything out?
Apparently it was a complete disaster.
Stirling's parachute tore in half.
Did he die?
They say it's touch and go.
See, the problem with stirling is that he is a dreamer.
So are you, paddy.
Oh, he is from that class of men
who do things, imagining they are writing it down in their autobiography.
Until their biography reaches an unexpected full stop.
If he dies, I will attend his funeral
because...
For some reason, he actually liked me.
Bird tweets
parachute rustles
He grunts
He chuckles
plane engine whines
impact echoes
Margaret (vo): ”what on earth are you doing jumping out of aeroplanes?
Even as a be y, you were always idiotica/iy optimistic
about the effects of gra vity. ”
Been told by the doctor not to express pity.
They said pity suggests hopelessness
which encourages despair.
Ah. — rigorous concern is preferred
so I will be rigorous in my concern.
How are you?
My mother looked up my condition in a medical dictionary.
She tells me only one in five people with a spine contusion ever walk again
but I am always, always in the minority.
She believes I will be one of the one in five.
She also tells me of grouse.
I've been working on the idea... He grunts
your idea, my idea now
because I've added some whistles and bells.
Yes, take a look.
This is totally illegible.
Oh, well, I mean...
My eyes hurt, so I've been writing with my eyes closed
but you see, I'm hoping to persuade my eyes
and my legs, my fucking legs!
Nurse: Shh!
Persuade my legs that they are required. I'm making a case to my toes
my shins and my insolent knees that they are needed.
Needed for what? — Ideas are coming quickly.
Even this feather is confirmation.
Falling from between the pages like fate.
Come.
You see, on my family estate, they shoot grouse
but they only shoot them when they are in the air.
Grouse?
We will be a regiment of fucking poachers
shooting grouse in their roost
in the dark, shooting them on the ground
not like gentlemen, not at all.
You know, stirling, you might consider it prudent
to ask them what medication they've given you
cos you're not making any sense at all.
Ah... he chuckles
the grouse are German and Italian aeroplanes.
We won't wait for them to take off.
We will shoot them on the ground.
Lewes, think about it! — there's no point thinking about it
cos it's all academic.
Even if we could get to the airstrips, there's no bomb small enough
to carry miles across the desert, and we'd need dozens.
Ah, you can figure that out
and I'll persuade paddy mayne to join us.
News from ghq is that our little experiment is over.
Our unit has been stood down with immediate effect.
Paddy mayne is going to Burma
and I'm going back to tobruk.
And I imagine you are being sent home to Scotland.
No. No one does things with me or to me.
I will get better...
Then, lewes, you and I and paddy mayne...
We will go poaching.
Big band music plays
I have some very important intelligence
from the long range desert group.
But I'm afraid it's all the way...
Over here.
You're a bastard. — dr gamal: I know.
Big band music continues
Eve: I received word from general de gaulle last night
and he gave me permission to speak to you about a certain matter.
Stirling: Here we go...
Nurse: Careful.
He grunts
These men are flot actors.
They're all French paratroopers who escaped France ahead of the Nazis.
General de gaulle urgently wants these men to join up with a British unit.
Why are you telling me? I do jokes and tricks.
Eve: The British are losing the war
and need all the help they can get.
You are the most effective covert operative in Africa.
You make things happen.
He grunts
oop! He grunts
textbook recruitment technique.
Batter me into submission with flattery.
I love it, do continue.
Crowd cheers and applauds
British high command listens to you.
Suggest an operation
that requires french—speaking soldiers. — uh, creative formulation is my area.
Don't tread on my toes.
I'm the one who invents regiments around here.
I will tread on your toes when we dance.
Oh, we're dancing, are we?
Phase two after flattery is usually seduction.
But that may not work with you.
I do love to dance.
So we have a deal?
I will help you with your fictional regiment if you help me with my real one.
Viva la France.
God save the king.
Well done.
Now let's do it all again.
Clarke: Shall we?
He plays "fur Elise" by Beethoven
Piano plays iithe lambeth walk" by Noel gay
captain: Lieutenant mayne!
Paddy, are you supposed to be somewhere else?
Captain: Looking for lieutenant Robert Blair mayne.
Probably.
You're in check.
Paddy.
Why don't you just make yourself known to the captain?
I'm hardly known to myself.
Plus the captain gets my goat.
Captain: Lieutenant mayne!
Paddy, think about Burma.
Don't do anything that will jeopardise
our deployment to Burma.
Mayne, I've been looking all over fucking Cairo for you!
You're meant to be in a briefing.
But you're too busy playing chess with your boyfriend.
Get on your fucking feet and get yourself a shave while you're at it.
I have my friend in check.
He clears throat
in two moves, it'll be checkmate. Now, wait your fucking turn.
Get on your fucking feet, you lazy Irish fucker!
He groans
discordant piano keys play - argh!
Piano keys ring
look... here I am.
Burma would've been so nice.
Guard: I don't advise going in there, sir.
Oh, come on, open the door.
Stirling grunts
I said I didn't want to see him.
And they said I had to.
And I have grown weary of destroying the self—confidence
of these guards who take turns to try and grind me down.
What do you want?
Stirling clears throat
my mother sent it to me.
Did you ever shoot grouse?
Pardon me?
I said, did you ever shoot grouse?
Grouse?
He sighs
nah.
No, no, I was never invited to the grouse shoots in newtownards.
Just not the right bloodline.
Just a yeoman farmer.
Hmm.
They'd have had me as a beater, but...
If I'd have been invited to their piss—up, shoot—up frenzies
it'd have been their sunless faces I'd have been beating in.
Those landowning, gentrified
boy—buggering toffs would never have countenanced my presence, so no.
He tuts no, nah, nah.
He sucks in breath
but I've shot at frenchmen
Germans...
Italians...
But I never shot at birds.
Next question.
Oh, but I... I will use my blood as ink
and this feather as my quill to write my poetry.
How badly do you want to get out?
I heard you fucked up jumping out of a plane.
Ihean"
that you fucked up your commanding officer.
Hit him with a piano is what I heard.
And as a result, you're not going to Burma.
Ah, I go to the east every night in my poetry.
"By the old moulmein pagoda
eastward to the sea
there's a Burma girl a—sitting
and I know she thinks of me."
I want you to imagine
a British regiment... — "for the wind is in the palm trees.
Without all of the things that you hate. — "and the temple bells, they say..."
"Come ye back, you British soldier." — no "yes, sir. No, sir."
No pips, strips, for rum and hash. — "come ye back to mandalay."
"On the road to mandalay
where the flying fishes play." — no bugles.
No salutes. — "and the dawn comes up like thunder."
No waiting for the piss—poor orders to dribble down...
"Across the bay."
Through the ranks.
And we would be stood down.
And stood down and stood down.
No, there'll be no one to stand us down. We will be answerable to no one.
Answerable to no one, paddy.
And you have permission for your adventure from ghq?
Here's the part that you will love the most.
We will shoot their aeroplanes while they're parked on the ground.
Now, no doubt your father
and your grandfather and great—grandfather
were from a long line of poachers. Well, now...
Now they will give you medals for it.
I asked you a question.
Do you have permission from ghq?
No. — no?
I haven't told them yet. — then I see very little prospect
of there being any fighting in your wee circus.
Oh, god, there will be fighting.
There will be fighting, but only with the enemy.
If you join us, I would want your word
that you will not punch your commanding officer
because your commanding officer...
It will be me.
Your comrades will be men like yourself.
Sweepings of public schools, military prisons, men who do not obey.
Men who need only one order.
"Go, kill, return, go again."
The alternative, the only...
He grunts ...Alternative...
For you, paddy mayne, is that one day they're going to hang you.
Why do you want me in particular?
He grunts
Because...
You would use your blood as ink
to write history.
Oh, that's very poetic.
Are you a poet?
Actually, a painter.
Failed.
If you, uh...
Decide to join us
I can get you out of here.
How?
You don't even have a fucking regiment.
No, but I will have. You know why?
Because...
The fucking landowning
gentrified, boy—buggering toffs
who used to shoot grouse on my father's highland estate...
Well, now they're running the British army.
Cheerio.
He grunts
Indistinct cha'iti'er
Driver: Have a nice day...
Lieutenant stirling, 8th commando.
I'm here to see general sir Claude auchinleck.
A lieutenant? To see the commander of the entire north Africa division?
Do you have a pass?
No. I do not.
But I do have my class
if you could get a message to the general—...
Why don't you fuck off?
No, my message actually would be
that my father, general Archibald stirling
was always accommodating
when Claude auchinleck would drop by unannounced.
Perhaps he might return the favour.
No pass, no entry.
Charming. — stick your class up your arse.
Guard: Stop there.
Right, papers, please.
Where you coming from? — driver mu'i'i'ers
yep.
Wait, wait, wait!
Wait! Stop the truck!
Wait!
Stop! Wait, stop the truck!
Oh, shit.
Pass, sir.
Thank you, sir.
General auchinleck wants to know when this fucking noise
is going to die down, he's trying to work.
They'll be done by midnight.
Right. A crate of champagne, that might pacify him.
Come on.
He grunts thank you.
A gift for general auchinleck from general ritchie.
Your pass, sir? — take a bottle. He won't be counting.
Come on.
Thank you, sir.
Uh, excuse me. I have a delivery for general auchinleck.
Third floor, other side of security.
Corporal! Come and take this for me, would you?
Yes, sir. — we're going to the third floor.
What on earth has happened to your top button? Do it up, corporal.
Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. — guard: There's a lieutenant in the building
without a pass. — place is going to the fucking dogs.
Hello? — guard: There's a lieutenant who's got in.
A gift for general auchinleck from general ritchie
and I want to report that I put this fucking crate down
for one minute in the gentlemen's lavatory
already two bottles are stolen.
What is happening to security in this building?
We'll look into it, sir. — hmm.
I'm afraid I left my security pass on my desk.
I beg your pardon? — It's ok, sir, we know his face.
Not the point. Not the fucking point.
Enlisted men should carry their security pass with them at all times.
What is happening in this place with top buttons?
Do up your fucking buttons.
It gets quite hot, sir.
Yes, it's Cairo.
But we are British.
Knock on door
auchinleck: Come.
A gift for general auchinleck from general ritchie.
General auchinleck is finishing a meeting.
And I am general ritchie. Who the hell are you?
Show me your security pass. — I'm...
Sir...
Put me through to the guard commander. — sir, I know you.
And you know me.
Both you and general auchinleck used to shoot on my father's estate.
My father was Archibald stirling.
I'm lieutenant David stirling.
My mother Margaret used to make her own gin
and do bird impressions. She was very good at owls.
Man on phone: Hello? Sir?
Sorry, I misdialled.
Put me through to general auchinleck in the war room.
Yes. I remember your face now.
But all the spots have gone.
A raw onion recipe for acne that my mother invented.
What the hell are you doing delivering champagne?
I'm not.
I am delivering this.
It's an idea.
An idea that might move the war in our favour.
How did you get past security?
The same way we will get past rommel's security and attack his airfields.
Deception and inordinate amounts of self—belief.
Auch. — auchinleck: Yes?
Remember Archie stirling's boy? — um...
Gangly, spotty one who was forever falling out of trees.
The one who siphoned the petrol from our cars to make petrol bombs.
Auchinleck: Oh, god, yes.
Well, he's in your office, says he has an idea.
Cork pops and cla'iters
your father was a very popular man.
The general is on his way.
Do you have three glasses?
What are we celebrating?
Read on. You'll see.
I can't read your writing. Tell me.
The Germans' eastward advance along the north African coast
has swung the war in their favour.
With respect, our high command has been no match for rommel's brilliance.
His speed, his agility. But...
I believe rommel has made a mistake.
Lieutenant stirling who couldn't climb a fucking tree
thinks that rommel has made a mistake?
He has moved too quickly.
His supply line is 500 miles long.
His fuel dumps and airstrips are strung out along the coast
with miles of empty desert between them.
I have a way of attacking rommel's airbases and neutralising them in advance
of the allied counterattack
which I'm sure the two of you are planning even as we speak.
You don't salute when a general enters a room?
In my detachment, there will be a respectful disregard for form and ritual.
How the fuck did he get in here?
I'm not asking for anything other than permission
and 60 men.
Men I will choose according to my own criteria.
You're trying to emulate your father and become a war hero.
No, sir, I'm trying to emulate my mother
who, as you know, always gets her own way
by being famously insane.
And by the way, the petrol bombs were my sister's idea.
She felt sorry for the grouse and wanted to alert them.
I know that Winston Churchill is raving down that telephone line at you
to do something to slow down rommel's advance.
The Germans must not be allowed to reach Cairo.
With 60 good men, we can cut rommel's supply line
like cutting a desert snake in two with a shovel.
I am a iongshot. A shot in the dark, but...
At least I am a shot.
You have your father's handwriting.
Sit.
We have no vehicles or equipment
or weapons to spare for some wild experiment.
We would steal everything we need, sir.
Steal? From where?
We would steal weapons and equipment from the allied troops first.
And then from the Germans and the Italians.
We would set up our base
behind enemy lines.
We would report to no one and require nothing.
And as a gentleman
I will wager with you both £100
that within six months
we will destroy more enemy aeroplanes on the ground
than the raf will destroy in the air.
By a factor of three. — auchinleck scoffs
now wouldn't that be something to celebrate?
So, a mysterious new parachute regiment appears from nowhere
operating out of east Libya?
Stirling, do you have a name for your outfit?
No, I don't. — hmm, well.
Oddly enough...
We do.
Door shuts
Clarke: Lieutenant stirling, welcome.
Welcome to my sanctuary.
I hold my midday meetings here because it's cool.
And because it's so beautiful.
And because, since my whole profession is to tell lies
I've chosen here as the one place in the world where I tell only the truth.
You should know, whoever you are
that I have no interest in espionage
in any of its forms, nor do I have any idea
why ghq have instructed me to have a meeting with a fucking spy.
Just tell me what the meeting is about.
It's not really a meeting.
It's a baptism.
And here is the newborn.
He crosses himself at the door and swigs whisky at the altar.
You see, I've researched you, stirling.
What is this?
This is the uniform of my very latest creation.
The sas.
Right. Who are the sas?
You are the sas.
Let me check if I've got the right size.
Yes.
Look at the badge of your new regiment.
Look at the pips, stirling.
You're to be the leader of a brand new detachment
and as you can see, you've already been promoted.
Rank of captain.
What the fuck are you talking about?
The sas is a ghost regiment that I created.
And I've spent six months convincing the Germans and the Italians that it's real.
And then you come along, offering to turn my ghosts
into flesh and blood.
Lots of blood.
Fun, isn't it?
Or is it fate?
It's all part of a game, you see.
I've already told you that in this place, I only speak the truth
so I'll tell you the truth.
Ghq has no great faith in your idea for a rogue regiment.
But it would help enormously with their deception
if a few real soldiers wearing uniforms like that could be captured.
Or shot dead in the desert.
See, I'm able to tell you the truth cos I've researched you
and I know that even though I'm making you aware
that your unit will be a counter in a game of deception
you'll do it anyway.
Cos you yourself are a work of fiction
trying to write yourself into the history books
just like your father
and probably your grandfather before him
and on and on
all the way back to the warrior chieftains
of the great clan stirling.
Captain stirling.
Agreeing to take on the name and the trappings
of the fictional regiment known as the sas is the only way
that you're going to get ghq to give you permission to start recruiting.
You have 24 hours to make up your mind.
I don't need 24 hours.
Oh, well...
In that case, I hereby baptise this newborn infant
I detachment, 1st brigade
special air service.
Jock (vo): Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come, thy will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our da/iy 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.
Distant explosion
Gone.
Good.
Music: "Mad dogs and englishmen" by Noel coward
♪ in tropical climes there are certain times of day ♪
Soldier: Telegram from Cairo, sir.
Come on.
Soldier: Sorry.
♪ It's one of those rules that the greatest fools obey ♪
♪ because the sun is far too sultry ♪
♪ and one must avoid its ultry—violet ray ♪
♪ At twelve noon the natives swoon ♪
♪ and no further work is done ♪
♪ but mad dogs and englishmen... ♪ — tea for you, sir.
♪ ...go out in the midday sun ♪ — thank you, Bob.
Riley, almonds.
Buongiorno.
Jock: Remember that fuck—up with the parachutes?
Yeah.
Stirling wants to know if we'll do it again.
Aye, yeah. — yeah.
♪ But mad dogs and englishmen go out in the midday ♪
♪ out in the midday, out in the midday ♪
♪ out in the midday, out in the midday sun ♪
She speaks arabic
what the fuck are you doing here?
I'm aspy.
It was not that hard to find out that you like to come here
every evening at five to drink whisky.
Waiter: Drink, madam? — champagne.
A bottle and two glasses.
One for me and one for the captain.
Waiter: Yes, ma'am.
Who told you I'm a captain?
We have a mutual friend.
He gave me the news about your promotion.
If the mutual friend is Dudley Clarke
you should know that he is not my friend
and I do not discuss news of any kind
with French spies.
You accepted Clarke's offer.
You have your own unit.
You have permission to recruit men. That makes you very useful to me.
Excuse me. Can I get the bill please?
The whisky, not the champagne.
I hope you brought cash.
You know, I read an article in a magazine
about the fact that, according to research
in Cairo right now, the average length of time
between strangers meeting and having sex
is down to one hour and 14 minutes.
Sir. — that's fine, pop the cork.
Waiter: Of course, madam.
I estimate it would take us 45 minutes
to drink the champagne and discuss the business that we have to discuss.
We have nothing to discuss.
The walk to your apartment would be 20 minutes.
That's one hour and five minutes.
Leaving us nine minutes in your room to complete the dance.
You know, your profession
yourcamng...
Is very, very harmful to the soul.
My father would invite former spies to the house
and they would just sit there
and stare into the fire.
I always wondered what they were looking at.
What business?
I have been asked by general de gaulle to find a way
to get French paratroopers involved in combat missions with a British unit.
The soldiers I'm talking about are men like you.
Like me?
They really want to fight. Soldiers, officers.
No, look, I've already chosen my officers.
They're a particular sort.
They are men like me.
A particular sort? — mmm.
This is a grouse feather.
The grouse is a bird bred to be shot
born to be killed.
Apparently, according to Clarke, my new unit is like that.
These soldiers...
These frenchmen without a country
they are prepared to die.
I have no need of cosmetic soldiers recruited to boost one man's ego.
Perhaps we could get this business done
in less than 45 minutes.
One hour and 14 minutes seems like such an awful waste of precious time.
You have a balcony, let's drink it there.
You would sleep with me for France, would you?
When I'm older and stare into the fire
I want there to be some things that I did just for the hell of it.
Mostly I don't like people.
But I like you.
And I am of use to you.
Yes, of course.
It's so very odd when one meets oneself.
We will sleep together, but there will be no frenchmen in the sas.
Crowd cheers
man: Come on!
Go all the way, paddy!
Indistinct cha'iti'er
again! — bell rings
crowd cheers
Go on, paddy!
Fuck off, you! Fuck off, you!
Bell clangs
crowd cheers
Guard: This way to the fucking animals.
Oh, for fuck's sake...
Aye, they put me on another charge.
Fighting in a boxing ring.
It's like being charged for murder in a war, is it not?
With the second charge, that'll give you three years.
And you'll be stripped of your rank.
Stirling got permission from ghq to go ahead.
Get ta fuck.
And this time, they have a badge
and they have a name.
Paddy chuckles
"1st special air service brigade."
Sounds like a branch of the fucking post office.
You are on two charges.
Now, if you get three years, this war is gonna be over
by the time you come out and you'll have missed all the fun, yeah?
Think about that.
So...
If you decide to join them...
I will join the sas too.
Also, stirling wants to know
if there's anyone in here that you've met
in whom you've seen potential.
Paddy: This is reg.
Pleasure to meet you.
Another fucking paddy.
This regiment isn't all fucking paddys, is it?
For crying out loud.
Just don't fucking annoy him.
Morning, sir. Highlander Wilson, Gordons.
You've never been put on a charge.
No, sir. — for insubordination or fighting?
No, sir. Never, sir.
Why the hell not?
Next!
Paddy.
Paddy: Since we have no aircraft
we will be simulating a parachute jump landing.
How are we gonna do that?
He grunts
see, he forgot to roll.
Pathetic! — they snigger
jock: Do not share water, it's a 20—mile march!
If you don't like it, return to your units!
Seekings, move!
Stirling: Next.
Are you here on behalf of your father, son?
I am 19 years old.
But so far in this war, I've killed 21 men.
Instead ofjudging myself on my age, I judge myself by that number
so in fact you can call me "21".
I'm looking to increase that number and I hear you might be able to help.
Why do you want to fight in the desert?
Cos in the desert, it'll be harder for the enemy to hide from me.
Hide from you? — yes, sir.
Go and join those men.
Yes, sir.
Jock: You must learn to march on an inch of water.
I have proved this can be done.
Funny. — jock: Only ten more miles!
Stirling: Next! — corporal Dave kershaw, sir.
Why do you want to fight in the desert, Dave?
Well, I just love killing fascists, sir.
Got a taste for it when I was in Spain like, you know. Loved it.
Pleasure, sir.
I understand you gentlemen are very good at killing people.
You heard right.
Paddy: Don't be flapping now, reg, don't be bottling it.
Chalky white, sir. — are you taking the piss?
No, sir. — oh, I think you are.
That's exactly what I'm after.
Down!
Small pop
Paddy: Oh, fuck me.
Mcgonigal: Don't be scared, lad.
Paddy: Go!
Get ta fuck. — he yells
jock: Send that fool back to his unit.
Guardsman Rob willey, of the 8th commando.
Right, how many women have you slept with, Rob?
12, sir.
Welcome to the sas.
Thank you, sir.
Jock: Take cover!
Explosion booms — soldiers cheer
up the fucking rifles, boy.
He grunts
fuck...
Finally.
I feel at home.
Alright? Come on.
Shall we go again?
We go again!
Brace up!
Stirling: Relax, sergeant.
Almonds: Alright, relax.
Take these and hand them out to the men. — yes, sir.
Stirling: Gentlemen, what you have before you
is a very important document
which will inform every aspect of your service with your new regiment.
Page one is a list of the specific objectives
we have been given by ghq
for the duration of the forthcoming campaign.
On the second page, you will see a diagram of the chain of command within our unit
along with protocols and uniform requirements
which must be strictly obeyed
soldiers chuckle
stirling: And on the third page
you will see a list of the equipment, supplies and tactical support
we will be given by ghq for our actions behind enemy lines.
The sas...
Is a blank page.
And it is our job to fill it.
Right...
We move out today.
Why don't you think of a better badge, jock?
Right, you heard him, lads. Clear off.
Indistinct cha'iti'er
Have they deployed?
They've been sent to a place called kabrit
200 miles behind the German and Italian lines.
What are their chances of survival?
Clarke: My beautiful new regiment is beyond air cover
in one of the most inhospitable terrains in the world
with daytime temperatures reaching 50 degrees
and very little in terms of armaments.
No tanks, no armoured cars, just a truck or two.
But they are very resourceful men.
Gunshot
gunshot
he laughs — gunshot
gunshot
just give me the percentage
that they will last beyond Christmas.
Ten per cent?
What a curious war this is.
Pass me that bag there.
This is it, lads!
Have a piss and a fiddle.
Indistinct cha'iti'er
Hey, come...
Soldier: Alright, lads, off you get.
Vu ltu re squawks
soldier: Come on, lads, chop—chop.
Vu ltu res squawk
Let's fuck off to Burma. — he laughs
is this it?
Cooper: There's literally nothing here.
Fucking hell.
This...
Is sas base camp.
It's just us now.
We have complete freedom to operate.
This is what we wanted.
Stopping the advance of fascism across Africa is now down to us
god help us.
We won't all survive
but we will triumph.
All but three vehicles are to return to Cairo.
If any of you wish to stand down and go back
you're free to go.
If anyone wishes to return, raise your hand now.
Good.
Well, let's set some fires, brew some tea, hmm?
And drink some bloody rum.
Come on, unload it all over here, boys!
Right, men, you heard him!
That's right, you heard him. Come on! Let's go.
Go on, men, move!
Vu ltu res squawk