SAS: Rogue Heroes (2022) s01e02 Episode Script

1
Tobruk is under 24-hour bombardment.
The map on the wall
keeps being redrawn
and men are dying.
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?
I've decided to form a parachute regiment.
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 CHATTER
SHE KNOCKS
Hello?
Hello?
Oh.
You must be the French person.
HE CLEARS THROA
— 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 THROA
Fun, isn't it?
AMBULANCE BELL RINGS
If we don't get there soon,
we're gonna lose him.
INDISTINCT CHATTER
Yes, bring them through.
MAN GROANS
NURSES CHATTER
Nurse, this one's fading fast.
Get him checked by the doctor.
- Excuse me.
- Whoops.
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.
Shit. Get him through.
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?
No.
What about now?
- Mmm.
- 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.
Prepare for surgery now.
- Quickly. Quickly.
- Now. Move, move, move.
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 attaché
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.
Et 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.
PULLEY 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 GRUNTS
HE CHUCKLES
PLANE ENGINE WHINES
IMPACT ECHOES
"What on Earth are you doing
Jumping out of aeroplanes?
Even as a boy,
you were always idiotically optimistic
about the effects of gravity.”
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!
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.
- I know.
BIG BAND MUSIC CONTINUES
I received word from
General De Gaulle last night
and he gave me permission
to speak to you about a certain matter.
Here we go
Careful.
HE GRUNTS
These men are not 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.
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.
Vive la France.
God save the King.
Well done.
Now let's do it all again.
Shall we?
HE PLAYS "FUR ELISE" BY BEETHOVEN
PIANO PLAYS "THE LAMBETH WALK"
BY NOEL GAY
Lieutenant Mayne!
Paddy, are you supposed to be
somewhere else?
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.
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 THROA
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.
I don't advise going in there, sir.
Oh, come on, open the door.
STIRLING GRUNTS
Oh
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 THROA
My mother sent it to me.
Did you ever shoot grouse?
Pardon me?
I said, did you ever shoot grouse?
Grouse?
HE SIGHS
No.
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.
I hear
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 CHATTER
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?
Ah.
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.
Oh.
Stop there.
Right, papers, please.
OK.
Where you coming from?
- DRIVER MUTTERS
Yep.
OK.
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
fromm 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?
- 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
Come.
A gift for General Auchinleck
fromm 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.
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.
- 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.
Oh, God, yes.
Well, he's in your office,
says he has an idea.
CORK POPS AND CLATTERS
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.
Oh
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 longshot.
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
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.
Ah
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
L Detachment, 1st Brigade
Special Air Service.
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 daily 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 kihgdom
the power and the glory.
Forever and ever.
Amen.
DISTANT EXPLOSION
Gone.
Good.
"Mad Dogs And Englishmen"
by Noel Coward
In tropical climes
there are certain times of day ♪
Telegram from Cairo, sir.
Come on.
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.
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 ♪
Out in the midday,
out in the midday sun ♪
SHE SPEAKS ARABIC
What the fuck are you doing here?
I'm a spy.
It was not that hard to find out
that you like to come here
every evening at five to drink whisky.
- Drink, madam?
- Champagne.
A bottle and two glasses.
One for me and one for the captain.
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.
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
your calling
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
Come on!
Go all the way, Paddy!
INDISTINCT CHATTER
Again!
- BELL RINGS
CROWD CHEERS
Go on, Paddy!
Go on, Paddy!
Fuck off, you! Fuck off, you!
BELL CLANGS
CROWD CHEERS
This way to the fucking animals.
Oh, for fuck's sake
Aye.
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.
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.
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
Do not share water,
it's a 20-mile march!
If you don't like it, return to your units!
Seekings, move!
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 of judging 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.
You must learn to
march on an inch of water.
I have proved this can be done.
- Funny.
- Only ten more miles!
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.
Go.
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
Oh, fuck me.
Don't be scared, lad.
Go!
Get ta fuck.
- HE YELLS
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.
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!
Relax, Sergeant.
Alright, relax.
Take these and hand them out to the men.
- Yes, sir.
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
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 CHATTER
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?
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.
GUNSHO
GUNSHO
HE LAUGHS
—- GUNSHO
GUNSHO
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 CHATTER
Hey, come
Alright, lads, off you get.
VULTURE SQUAWKS
Come on, lads, chop-chop.
VULTURES SQUAWK
Let's fuck off to Burma.
- HE LAUGHS
Is this it?
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!
VULTURES SQUAWK