Fortunes of War (2024) Movie Script
1
- Trouble?
- Don't ask. We on?
- Listen.
- Follow her lead,
and you'll be fine.
- Okay.
- Let's get to it.
- Here we go. Call it in, lad.
- Yes, Sir.
- It's Sarge, Waters,
or Sergeant, not Sir.
- Oh, I'm sorry, Sir.
Whiskey, seven, delta.
Whiskey, seven, delta.
Rat's in the trap. I
repeat: rat is in the trap.
- She be all right?
- She'll do. Is Norman set up?
- Not quite, Sergeant.
I was thinking maybe over there,
but I thought I'd
check in with you.
- Do I look like
your mom, Carter?
- No, Sir.
- Well, get that gun
up there right away.
- Yes, Sarge. Norms.
- Come on, then, Marlena,
we've got a job to do.
- "Marlena"? Sometimes
you scare me, Norman.
- It's a Germanic name, Sarge.
Just trying to make our
guests feel at home.
- Fucking hell.
- Sarge.
How's that?
- You'll never
learn, will you, Reg.
- Heh.
- Don't understand, Sarge.
Ha, I just don't
know how he does it.
- Best not to ask, son. Our
Leach moves in nefarious ways.
- Oi. What's that mean?
- Ah, the Jerries have
come to call, lads.
Stir your stumps.
Where's Harris?
That way.
- Fuck sake, Fred, put it away.
- Sorry, Sarge. When you
got to go and all that.
- Oh, can ya at
least try and hold it in
for the next 20
minutes, all right?
- Don't worry,
Sarge. We got this.
Best of the best and all that.
- Yep, just try
not to die, yeah?
- Mm.
- This is gonna be tight.
- Mason, you're late.
- Sorry, Sir, had a
little trouble with
our French comrades.
Target will be with us
in less than a minute.
- Will they do, Mason?
- Sir?
- This ramshackle lot.
I mean, are they really
the best you could find?
- Work with what
you've got, Sir.
- Not the command I'd
hoped for, not at all.
- Sir, the target.
- Ah, yes, of course,
have Waters call it in.
- I've already taken
the liberty, Sir.
- Of course, you
did.
- And Sir, may I suggest
that when this kicks
off it might be best
if you just stay
back, just in case.
- Just in case of what?
- So that you can direct
the battle, marshal the men,
if you get my meaning, Sir.
- Thank you,
Sergeant Mason.
Yes, I believe I do
get your meaning.
May I remind you that
this is my operation?
The plan is good and
will go like clockwork,
assuming that you and your
men follow your orders.
Now, do you get my
meaning, Sergeant?
- Yes, Sir, don't worry about
the lads. They know the job.
- Good. See that
they stick to it.
Don't let me keep
you, Sergeant Mason.
- Sir.
- Ah.
- Gotta be something
pretty special.
Secret weapon. Black
bag job, maybe?
- Nah, mate, I got a look at
the Henry's map last night.
There's a German garrison less
than 15 miles down the road.
- So?
- I reckon the brass wants
to hit 'em where it hurts.
When was the last time
you saw a wage packet?
Jerry's been getting paid on
the regular, though, I'll bet.
They're efficient, that lot.
- Wages truck.
- Reg, mate, I think we've
earned ourselves a bonus.
- Oh, bloody hell.
- You all right there, Sir?
- Quite alright,
thank you, Sergeant.
- Incoming.
- Why isn't she firing?
Take the bloody shot.
- She will when
she's ready, Sir.
Argh.
- Down, boy.
- What're we waiting for?
- She's just making safe, Sir.
- They're down. What
more do you need?
- Just give her a minute, Sir.
She knows what she's doing.
- I've had quite enough of this.
Can't sit around all day
waiting on bloody women.
Come on, gentlemen.
- Sir.
- We have a prize to secure.
- Reg, now's our chance.
- What?
- Payday.
- Leach. Leach, no.
Harris, Norman, uh,
don't bloody move.
If anyone comes round
that corner, hose 'em.
- Sarge.
- Sarge.
- He's toast.
- Aye, this one, too.
She's some yoke, ain't she?
Right, jump up.
Grab whatever you can.
Stuff your pockets.
I'll hold up the brass.
- Righto, boss.
Oh, fuck.
- Reg, no.
- Ambush.
- Sneaky bastards.
- Argh. Urgh.
- Argh.
- Uh, urgh. Argh.
- Cover us!
- Argh.
- Argh.
- Leach.
- Argh.
- Fucking dozens of 'em.
- What do we do?
- Get him out of here.
Fucking have this.
- Argh.
- Ton fusil!
- Argh.
- Come
on, then, let's go.
- Argh.
- Urgh.
- Lost your nerve, Sergeant?
We have a job to do.
Come on, lads, follow me.
- Argh.
- Argh.
- Coming through.
- Gah. Urgh.
- Go, go, go.
- Urgh.
- Come on.
- Go, go, go, go,
go.
- Move.
- Go.
- Move.
- On me.
- Move.
- Go, go, go, go,
go.
- Move.
- Go.
- Move.
- On me.
- Go, go, go, go.
Go, go, go.
Come on. Come on.
Norman.
- Sarge.
- Get rid of him.
- Urgh, argh. Argh.
- Urgh, come on.
- Argh.
- Incoming.
Covering fire!
- Argh.
- Let's go.
- Gah. Gah.
- Go.
Go, go, go, go, go, go.
- Argh. Uh, argh, urgh.
- Argh.
- Go.
- Move.
Move back.
- Urgh, argh.
- Go, go, go.
- Over here.
- Argh, aw, oh,
ah, cheers, big man, urgh, aw.
- How you doing, lad?
- Oh, I reckon I'm
a goner, Sarge.
- Let's have a look. Hmm.
- How fucked am I, Harry?
- On a scale of one to 10.
- Aye, sure, why not?
- I say somewhere
between Jessie-
- Ah?
- And big girl's blouse.
- Gah, big red balls!
- Sorry to report the
patient's gonna make it, Sarge.
- Really? Damn.
- What about the lieutenant?
- Do you feel like
going back for him? Hmm?
- No, Sarge.
- They bloody knew
we was coming.
- Eh, eh, leave it, Harris.
- It wasn't my people.
- Well, it wasn't bloody ours.
- Well, either
way, we're in trouble.
- Urgh.
- Radios went down with Waters.
We got no coms.
We're on our own.
Can you help us?
- Maybe, but uh, I'll need
time, something you don't have.
- Look, we're going
anywhere fast, are we?
- Okay, I'll send word.
- Ah.
- Dig in. Hold them
off as long as you can.
- Look, we can't hold
'em here. It's too open.
There's no space anywhere.
They'd be all over us.
- I think I know a place.
- No.
- Head north, past
the old church.
- Watch our back.
- Okay.
- Okay, let's move.
Carter with me.
- Oh.
Come on, boy.
- Urgh,
come on.
- Argh. Argh.
- Come on.
- Bruise and all.
- Shit.
Urgh.
- Come on, lads.
Watch it. Watch it.
Come on.
Come on, come on.
- Argh.
- Let's go. Let's go.
- Argh.
- Come on.
Come on.
We're gonna have a brew there.
Think of that brew, huh?
You think of that
brew boys. Come on.
- Something ain't right.
- Like what?
- Those two. Doing all
the scouting for us?
- Yeah, they're our
guides. Remember, Fred?
- Maybe. I heard the resistance
cut the hair off traitors.
- What? You reckon she's
a collaborator?
Come on, mate, let's go.
- I'm just saying.
It ain't normal.
- A little bit further
and you can smell that brew.
- Oh, I'm okay, man.
Let's take a break, lads.
- Argh.
- Ah.
- Argh.
- Put your head against this.
- Ah.
- You all right?
- Ah.
- Here. We got you, lad.
We'll get that cup
of tea for ya, yeah?
- Ha.
- She's coming back in, Sarge.
- Oh yeah?
I know. I know.
They're catching up. How far?
- Uh-
- Huh?
- For us to get there,
about two hours with him.
For them to catch
us, about 30 minutes.
You know what we have to do.
- Sarge, we can't leave him.
- Look, Fred, gimme a
minute, yeah.
Just gimme a minute.
Leach, you still got that paint
you half-inched of Jonesie?
- I didn't nick nothing, Sarge.
That was fair and square.
- No, have you still got it?
- Norm's got it.
- Norm.
- Sarge.
- I'm gonna need you
and that paint, lad,
and someone find me some nails.
- How's
Norman know German?
- His mom works down
the docks.
- His mother's in the
import-export business.
Ain't that right, lad? Huh?
- That's right, Sarge.
- She welcomes 'em in and
waves 'em right back out again.
- All right, let's move out.
Quick as ya like, lads.
If this works, it won't
work for very long.
- There. Look.
- Really?
- That's your idea?
Not exactly secret, is it?
- Aye, catch yourself on.
First bloody place
the Jerries'll look.
- Easy, lads.
What d'you think, Sarge?
- Maybe she's right.
Hide in plain sight.
- It's a bit of a bloody gamble.
- It's what
you're best at, eh?
Got a better idea? Hmm?
Let's go.
- Come on, hop along.
- Know this place?
- The farmer was my cousin.
He was one of us once.
- So he'll help us?
- The SS caught him,
shot him in front of his
family to make an example,
and they slit his throat,
tied him to a farm post, and
used him as target practice.
Nobody lives here now.
- Hmm, she's cheerful.
- Let it rest.
- Hmm, shouldn't
we say something?
- Like what?
- Dunno, s-something,
just anything, just, uh-
- She'll be fine.
- Yeah, I know, but...
- But?
I don't know if you've
noticed, Carter,
but there's a war going on.
People do horrible
shit to each other.
Right now, we got
a messed-up girl
that's got a passion
for fucking up Germans,
and that's exactly what we need.
We could do with a
few more like her.
We're gonna get outta this.
Come on.
- Ya see, the thing
ya have to understand
about the sergeant, Carter,
he's struggling
with a heavy burden.
- Really?
- Oh yeah.
You wouldn't know it
to just look at him,
but our Sergeant Mason is
carrying a deep dark secret.
- Tell me.
- Not sure now's the time.
- Aw, no, no, no, no,
no, no, nah, come on,
you can't say something like
that and leave me hanging.
- Hmm, yeah, alright.
You have to swear not
to tell no one, right?
- Uh, uh, course.
Listen, on my honor.
- Ya see, the thing
about the sarge.
- Yeah.
- He's a miserable
twat.
Come on, we better get shifting.
Don't want to be left behind.
- Come on, dickhead,
keep up, he-he-he. Argh.
- Clear.
- Urgh.
- Argh.
- Urgh.
- Argh.
Ha, thanks, mate.
- You'd do the same.
- Not a chance.
- Heh.
- Ha. Ah.
- Looks good.
- Safe enough.
- Psst, Sarge.
- Thought you said
this place was deserted.
- It was.
- Sarge.
- Smoke.
Turn around, and put
your fucking hands up.
- What's he saying?
- Drop it.
- Drop it. Drop it.
Drop it. Drop it.
- Who is he?
- Ah, you're English.
- And you're not French.
- You observe well,
mademoiselle. I am Belgian.
- Frenchy.
Stand down, boys.
What you doing here?
- I could ask the same of you.
Today has not been a good
day for you, I think.
- You could say that.
- I have coffee.
Put down your weapons.
I'm thinking you need a drink.
- Milk and sugar?
- There is no
hope for the English.
- Sorry, mate. No hard feelings.
- What
you doing, Leach?
- Heh, heh, hey.
Argh, what d'ya think?
- Pretty neat.
You'll be doing a
palais glide in no time.
- Aye, chance'd be a fine thing.
Oh, been a few years
since me and Reg cut a rug
at the Hammersmith Palais.
Now, he, he was a
proper ladies' man.
- Yeah, did pretty
well for a short-arse.
- Aye, aye, he said that
was his secret weapon.
Said they couldn't
see him coming.
Aye, guess his luck ran out.
- Yeah.
- Poor bastard.
- Tch, aye.
- Still, ha, think
this'll do the trick.
I think I could give you a
run for your money, old man.
- Ah, I'll let ya
have that one, mate.
You know I haven't run anywhere
since at least, ooh, 1935.
- Come on, then,
let's go for a dander.
- Let's.
- Argh.
- Easy.
- Mm-hmm. Argh.
Sarge. Argh.
- So what you doing here?
- This farm belonged to
the nephew of my friend.
He, uh, used the kiln
for the local village.
He make, uh, pots, bowls,
everything
but uh, no more.
- No, I heard.
So you're a potter.
- Uh, in some ways.
I understand enough.
These days, there's many
buildings needs repair,
and materials are hard to find,
so I make the bricks.
- You know, the
smoke gives you away.
- I had not thought of that,
but no one comes here now.
- Until now.
- Well, ha ha, yes. Ah.
- Listen,
we're gonna have
to take your truck.
- I cannot permit that.
- It wasn't a request.
- That truck is very
important to me.
The war has taken
much from my people.
Without that, there
is no shelter.
- You do understand
I could just take it.
- Yes, Sergeant, you could.
- But.
- But I am thinking you are
not that kind of soldier.
I'm right?
- Huh,
keep it.
I'd probably just crash
the bloody thing anyway.
Still haven't got used to being
on the wrong side of
the road and all that,
but it does mean we'll be
with yer for a while longer
till I figure something out.
- Captain Mason.
- Sergeant.
- Sergeant Mason, we are not
unsympathetic to your cause.
Actually, we are
very happy for help
from all our allies, but-
- But ya want us out of here.
- It would be for the best.
It's just that-
- The area's crawling
with Germans,
and they don't take kindly to
locals helping out the enemy.
I get it, yep.
Believe me, I wanna
be out of here, too,
but I'm pretty low
on options right now.
My guide has a
contact in Nabille.
She'll be with us shortly.
We'd be out of your
hair by morning.
- Nabille is a difficult
journey when there is no war.
Why would she go there now?
You trust her?
- What other options
do I have, eh?
- Let me see your map.
Here is Nabille. See?
- Of course.
- When were you last there?
- Uh, a week ago maybe.
- Ah, we went through two
days ago when we come here.
There is checkpoints
here and here
and patrols everywhere.
- She's the local.
- He clearly knows more than me.
- I do not think you
should go to Nabille.
- So what do we do, then?
- Here in the
North is a railway.
Uh, the Germans use
it for supplies.
Follow here, and you
may arrive at the river.
- Mm-hmm.
- And then, what?
- We find a boat.
- Mm-hmm.
- You can be out of
the danger in 36 hours.
- Or dead in three
if they catch us crossing
the railway line.
- Uh.
- You really want rid
of us, don't you? Hmm?
- You want me to lie?
- What do you think?
- What about him?
- What do
you reckon, Harris?
- Don't worry. He'll do.
- Okay.
- Much obliged for
your hospitality.
Hope it doesn't end
you up in trouble.
- Good luck, Sergeant.
I hope the journey is over soon.
- Ready?
- Yes, Sarge.
- Hold on. Where's Harris?
- Heh, guess.
- Harris,
get over here.
- Gimme a second, man.
- Can't it wait?
- When you get to my
age, you'll understand.
Oh, shithouse.
Stand tall.
- Leg it.
- Never been one for running.
- Covering fire.
- Urgh.
- Argh.
- Urgh.
- Harry.
- Fred. Fred, Fred.
Fred. Fuck.
- You bastards.
- Argh.
- Leach! Leave it!.
- Argh.
- Come on boy! Come on boy!
- We need to run.
- No chance. Leach ain't
gonna run anywhere.
There's open fields all around.
They'll cut us down
before we get to cover.
- Then we go for the truck.
- Fucking do it. Go.
- Come on.
- Do it.
- Aw, shit.
- There.
- Argh, fuck you.
- Right, if you keep
their heads down,
I'll start her up, back
up to the barn, okay?
- Okay.
- Okay?
- Be quick.
- Argh.
Shit.
Empty.
- Go. Go.
- Now, Annette. Now.
- Godspeed, mate.
- Uh.
- Fuck.
- Uh.
- Looks good.
- Should soak up
some of the damage
but won't hold them forever.
- Ammo?
- Just over 300 rounds,
enough to ruin their day.
- Good work.
- Sarge. Aw.
- Trouble?
- Tank's dry.
- Why is nothing
ever bloody easy?
- What now?
- Do what we do best,
being a pain in the
arse for the Krauts.
- Oh, what's the plan.
- Smokes and frags,
half a dozen of each.
- Ooh, that's not a lot.
- Mason.
We have a problem.
- What's up?
- They appear to
be inviting their friends.
- Not exactly ideal.
- Hold on.
- Thought
we'd have more time
before they got the word out.
- No use crying
over spilled milk.
- I do not understand.
- Uh, it's an English thing.
- Here they come.
- Argh.
- Carter.
- With me.
- Covering fire.
- Go.
- Urgh.
- Argh.
- Ooh, lovely.
- Down. Fuck.
Light a match, Cart.
Ready?
- Gah.
- Move.
- Lergh, largh.
- Argh.
- Ah.
- You thinking of
taking a break, Sarge?
- Well, I could do with
one, even if they don't.
What's that old buzzard up to?
Ah, well, full marks
to the old boy, uh,
but I'm hoping he'll
give us a lift.
Missus doesn't like me
staying out too late.
Argh. Urgh.
- Bloody hell.
Uh, you got a girl
waiting for ya, Carter?
- What, Sarge? Oh, nah, nah.
No, not me, Sarge.
- Heh, well, it's probably best
all things considered, huh?
Ah, now, what about that lift?
- Horses. What about the horses?
- Well, that'd solve
the Leach problem, yeah.
You up for it?
- Yeah, yeah, smoke again?
- Ah, it worked
last time. Come on.
- Why aren't they just
blowing the hell out of us?
- How's your bowling arm, Leach?
- Ah, I'll manage, Sarge.
- And move.
- Uh, argh, argh. Argh.
Wait for it. Wait for it
Follow me, Leach.
One, two, Carter, go. Ready?
- Ready.
- Now.
Keep him covered.
- Ah, thank you.
- Be ready to move.
The Jerries'll be on us as
soon as they see the horses.
- What's the plan, boss?
- Grab your gear and hop
around the back of the barn.
The second Carter brings the
horses, get on one, and go.
Do not wait for us.
You have ridden before, right?
- Aye, wee bairn Sarge.
- And I don't mean
on Blackpool Beach.
Okay, stay low, and
hold the fuck on.
- Yes, Sarge.
- Where is he?
- He's taking his time.
- He'll make it.
- There.
- Shit.
- Oi, Frenchy, hang on.
- Well, can't say I blame him.
- You fucking coward.
- Oh, merde!
- Where are you, Carter?
- I see him.
- Margh.
- Shit.
- Gnargh.
- No.
- Uargh.
- Urgh.
- Urgh.
- Gargh.
- Urgh. Urgh.
- Hmph.
- Argh.
- Ines. No.
- Urgh.
- Huh-dah.
- Argh.
- Oh no, no, no.
No, no, animals.
- Nargh.
Argh.
Gah.
- Ah.
- Ah.
- Carter.
- Okay, come on,
come on, it's okay.
It's okay. It's okay.
It's okay. You're okay.
- You all right?
- Uh, yeah.
That was a bit hairy.
- They could've
easily overrun us by now.
It doesn't make sense.
- What happened in the stables?
- Sorry, Sarge.
- I guess the Frenchies
had somewhere better to be.
We had a bit of a
discussion about it.
- Well, it's good to
have you bad, Son.
Certainly timely.
- Thank you, Sarge. Thank you.
- How we doing?
- Badly.
If they keep this up,
I'll be out of
ammo by nightfall,
and my Marlena,
she's a hungry lady.
- Damn.
- Yep.
I'm sorry. She was a tough one.
- Prison
camp'll do that to you.
- She was a prisoner?
- Yeah.
Germans tortured her for weeks,
took her hair.
But he still didn't break.
I'm sorry, too, about Harris.
- We will get out of here.
Just give the sarge
a bit of time.
He'll come up with something.
- I think we just
ran out of time.
- Sarge.
- Mortar. Shit.
- That's fucked it.
- What do we do, Sarge?
- Well, if we're really
quick off the mark.
We could have time
for a couple of hands.
- They're well-positioned,
and we're outta smoke.
There's no way we're
running through there
without running
straight into crossfire.
- So?
- So we get blown to shit,
or this old shed
falls down on us.
Either way, we're fucked.
- I don't think I could
put it any more eloquently.
We are most royally fucked.
Here we go.
- Hang on.
- What're they up to?
- I've absolutely no idea.
- Carter, tell your girlfriend
I need her to go for a nose.
Argh.
- Gah.
Argh.
- Argh.
Hmph.
- Urgh.
- Know how
to use that thing?
- She was teaching me.
- What're they up to?
- Arguing.
- Oh, that's not good.
New guy's a general.
Yeah, he's SS.
- SS?
- Mm-hmm.
Okay?
You know what they
did to your cousin.
Won't let them get anywhere
near you. Don't worry.
- You have no say in this.
This is between me and them.
I could kill him
now if I wished.
- No, no, no, no,
no, no, no, no, no,
no, no, no, no, no.
You can't do that.
- I do wish to,
but he must be the reason
why they're not
using the mortar yet,
so I won't kill him yet.
I'll tell Mason
about our new friend.
- Urgh, urgh, huh.
Urgh, ha.
Urgh.
Uh, huh, heh.
- Okay.
They coulda rolled
right through us by now.
I mean, not that I'm ungrateful,
but what's he up to, Sarge?
- Oh, I'm not about to
stay around to find out.
- Ooh.
- Ladies and gents.
- Don't say a fucking word.
- We have ourselves our
very armoured car.
- Nice one, Norman,
but I still think
it needs something.
Ah.
Right, everyone,
this is our way out.
Grab your gear. Get ready.
- Mason.
- Oh, bloody hell,
what now? Carter.
- Look.
- Parlay. Really?
- I reckon they've heard
of our devastating
military supremacy, Sarge.
- It's that or
your cologne, Son.
- What do we do?
- Well, I guess we better
talk to them, right?
Let's see what he wants.
- Are you sure?
- Not one bit.
- General Horseler, the
2nd Panzer Division.
- SS? No need to
salute, General.
I'm nobody important.
Mason, William Dennis, Sergeant.
- Are you in charge?
- Since your lot
promoted me, yeah.
Gah, oh, uh, got ya.
That's better. Ah.
That's been giving me
jip for fucking ages.
Alright, General, what's up?
- You are surrounded.
Half your platoon is dead,
and I assume you're
running low on ammunition.
- So you want us to surrender.
- It would seem sensible, yes.
I'm sure you have as little
desire to be here as I do.
- You're not wrong there.
Trouble is
I've got even less desire to
spend the next couple of years
freezing my tits off in a
prison camp somewhere in Poland.
- So you refuse.
- Surprised?
- No, I've met your kind before,
and I must concur:
Poland is a terrible place.
- So.
- So if you permit it,
I would like to
collect our fallen.
And then, I'm afraid
we must proceed.
- All right, fair
enough. Help yourselves.
I'll give you an hour.
- My thanks.
- Right, we got an hour.
Grab your stuff. We're off.
- Uh, oi, what about the truce?
- That's only for
officers, I'm afraid, lad.
Unless you wanna wait around
ready for them to kill us,
this might be our only chance.
This is pretty simple.
On my mark, run like hell.
- Do us proud, Marlena.
- Oh, she'll do ya
proud all right.
- Fighting fire, lad. Hmm?
- Aye.
- Yeah?
- Ready.
- Hmm?
Now let's get the
fuck out of here.
Now.
- Get down.
- Sniper.
- Argh.
- Take cover. Get the fuck back.
Go.
- Uargh, uargh.
Rargh, get the fuck off me.
Get off me, ruargh, argh.
Gah, oh, you shoulda
let me kill him.
- That's twice now. Twice.
You're gonna get us
all fucking killed.
- Carter, listen, look, I'm-
Gah.
- Sarge.
- Get down.
- Argh. Fuck.
- Sarge, okay, it's okay.
- Argh.
- The lights.
- All right.
- Oh, my time
to play nurse, he says.
- Urgh, ha, Christ, not
you. Leave me to die.
- I can't see anything.
- No, he's still there.
- Fuck, we shoulda known.
- No, we had to do something.
- Nah, I still don't understand
why they haven't just
come for us, huh?
You'd expect 'em
to come at night.
That general,
something's stopping him.
- You keep an eye out this side.
I'll keep an eye out the front.
- Okay.
Carter.
Uh.
Cover me.
- No, no, no,
no, no, no, no, no, no.
Annette.
- Uh.
- Uh, uh. Um, uh.
Uh, urgh.
- Urgh.
- Tuh. Huh.
- Annette.
- Huh, huh, uh, clear.
- Who?
- Uh, dunno.
- You all right?
- Yeah.
- Well, maybe you should
go check on the others.
Alright, look, listen,
I can take it from here.
- No, stop making a fuss.
He's dead. I'm not, okay?
- Right. Right, sorry.
Uh, this is some kinda,
some kinda workshop.
- Yeah.
- Oh, damn.
- What?
- Gold.
- Wow, that's a lot.
- This, this is still hot.
Oh.
- Okay.
- Guess we know what
Monsieur Julien was up to.
- Yep.
- Sounded fun.
- Was a little hairy.
- Ha, lemme guess.
Yous two have found
us a magical tunnel
that'll whisk us
back to old Blighty.
- In a
manner of speaking.
- Huh?
- Frenchy's left you a present.
- Is this...
Fucking hell, d'yous know
how much this is worth?
- Not as much as the other
three dozen down there.
- What?
- Reckon you'll have
a bit of trouble
spending that around here, lad.
- Oh, there's nothing
yous can say right now
that's gonna ruin
the moment, Sarge.
- Anything else worthwhile?
- Yes, Sarge. I think Julien
was running some kinda racket.
- So that's what the
old buzzard was up to.
- Shit.
- Shit. Carter.
- Here they come, Sarge.
- If that's the way they
wanna start the morning, huh,
let's give 'em what they want.
Carter, Frenchy, do the honors.
Morning, gents.
Argh, argh.
- Argh, ah, looks like the
general's made his mind up.
- Think we should surrender now?
- Do you wanna?
- No, Sir.
- What about you two?
- Fuck that shit.
- Aye, what she said.
I've suddenly had my world of
possibilities expanded, Sarge,
and I'm not giving that
up for some wee dolt
in a snazzy outfit.
- Ah, so long as you're sure.
- Pretty banged up.
We're nearly out of ammo.
- Well, we got a warehouse
full of the stuff.
The finest British
tradition, lad,
cobbling stuff together
and hoping it works.
- Fuck, what you
saying, dickheads?
- Argh.
- Gah.
Hmph. Gah.
- Argh.
- Whoo.
- Hoo-ha.
- Carter.
- Urgh, argh, hmm.
- Argh.
- Huh.
- Thank you.
Ya with us?
- Aye.
I was thinking maybe
we could take a break,
halftime, change ends.
- You alright.
- Pfft, I'm upright.
- Frankly, I don't know
how we've gotten this far.
I'm impressed.
Being out of ammo's
a bitch, though.
- The Germans have plenty.
- Go and see what you can find.
- Uh, oh, urgh.
Urgh.
Argh.
Gah. Uh.
Gah, heh. Urgh.
- Well?
- Uh, look this.
Look at this.
- This was on Julien?
- It was.
- What is that?
Jesus Christ.
- Ooh, well, this just
got a bit more complicated.
- Shit.
- Urgh.
- Oh no.
- Whoa, whoa,
whoa, whoa, whoa. Annette.
- She hurt?
- I don't know.
- Shit.
- Why didn't she say?
- Leach, what you got left?
- Uh, I can sterilize
it with this.
- Do it. Do it now.
Quick, Leach.
- Stop getting so bloody
keen, ya bunch of gits.
- Aw, fuck.
Those bloody bastards are
gearing up to come again.
They'll be on us in a minute.
- Mm-hmm.
- How is she?
- Think she's alright for now.
- But.
- We can't keep
doing this, Sarge.
All three of you are...
- Mm.
- Well, you're...
- Fucked?
- Yeah.
- Well, we could do the
surrendering thing, I suppose,
but it won't help.
They aren't gonna
bother hauling us off
to clog up one of
their hospitals.
It'll be four bullets and done.
- Hang on, Sarge.
I might have an idea.
- All right.
- Yeah. Yeah,
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Yeah, it's about Monsieur Julien
and, uh, the, the SS
general and everything.
I've, I been thinking.
- Now, what have I
told you about that.
Thinking only lands
you in trouble.
- Heh. You got a plan, then?
- Do I fuck?
I've been winging it
for the last two days.
Look where that's got us.
I told you I'm not your mum.
If you got something,
something you wanna try,
I'm right behind ya.
Lord knows I don't have
the strength to stop you
even if I wanted to.
You gonna tell me your big plan?
- Morning.
- D'you have a light?
- Mm.
- Not many left. Hmm?
- How's this work, then?
Never done it before.
- I believe
introductions are usual.
- General Horseler, the 2nd-
- SS. I heard.
- Lance Corporal Carter.
Uh, I'm not in
charge or anything,
but uh, the boss hasn't
been feeling too well
and needed a lie-down.
- You know, my soldiers
are not very happy with me
for agreeing to
this conversation.
- No?
- They want you
dead, all of you.
Not only have you killed
many of their comrades,
but they are proud men,
and by surviving, you
have humiliated them.
- And you
feel differently?
- I want this over as
quickly as possible,
so the sooner you surrender
the sooner I can go
about my business.
- Ah, well, that
certainly makes sense.
No point killing us
for the sake of it.
- Exactly.
Surrender your weapons
and you will be given
medical assistance
and escorted behind the lines.
- Yeah, that's very generous
of you, Sir, really.
We just don't quite fancy it.
- Corporal Carter,
you are not in a
position to bargain.
Look at the state you're in.
Surrender now before
you try my patience.
- I can't do that.
- Fool.
- Am I?
Because, see, from
where I'm standing,
you're the one looking foolish.
Ah, you're
rumbled, Herr General.
- I do not understand.
- You must've shit yourself
when you showed up last night.
I mean, I bet the last thing
you were expecting to find
is half the local garrison here
and us sat on top of
your little operation.
- Lance Corporal, I do not
know what you're talking about.
- Really? Well, let me
make it clear, then.
Gold, General,
melting down the spoils of
war to line your own pocket.
I mean, did you collect it
off the bodies yourself?
Or did you get your lads to
do that bit for you, General?
Julien knew.
- Julien?
- Monsieur Julien, the potter,
from Belgium, I believe,
or should I say
SS-Oberfuehrer Mueller,
your right-hand man.
I wonder what your
Wehrmacht comrades will say
when they learn their
boss is a grave robber.
- You have no proof.
- No?
- What do you want?
- Passage out of
here for me and my men.
- Ridiculous.
- Not really. I'm offering
you exactly what you want.
You want us out of here
before this lot rumble ya
and find your little stash,
and we really wanna go.
Alright, all we
need is some fuel,
and we'll be on our way.
Much obliged.
- You got balls bigger than
Sisyphus, Carter. Who knew?
- Yeah, can you tell
I was shitting myself?
- You were being
very British, heh.
- Transport's ready, Sarge,
first class, courtesy
of the fuehrer.
- Don't get cocky, Carter, yeah?
Just fill it up, and
let's get out of here
before they change their minds.
- Fuck sake. Ah.
- Urgh.
- Uh.
- Gah, huh.
- I think the love light's gone
outta their marriage, Sarge.
- You know, I
think you're right.
Such a shame.
- It's the kids
I feel sorry for.
- Ready to go?
- Aye, let's get
outta this shithole.
- Job, Carter.
- Thanks, Sarge. Okay.
- Miserable git.
Balls.
- Not happy, lad?
- I mean, we're alive.
I can't fault that, but
those poor bastards,
Reg, Harris, Norm,
Waters, Ines.
What do we have to
show for it all?
- Well, we got a
pile of bricks, yeah?
We could build an house.
Oi.
- Good quality,
lad. Take a look.
- Scheisse.
- Turns out Monsieur Julien
was pretty good at his job.
They were planning
for their retirement,
and the general weren't invited.
- Bloody hell, Sarge.
I mean, bloody hell, you knew.
- Carter figured it out.
Well, we thought we'd earned
ourselves a little bonus.
Don't you reckon?
- Yes, Sarge.
- Trouble?
- Don't ask. We on?
- Listen.
- Follow her lead,
and you'll be fine.
- Okay.
- Let's get to it.
- Here we go. Call it in, lad.
- Yes, Sir.
- It's Sarge, Waters,
or Sergeant, not Sir.
- Oh, I'm sorry, Sir.
Whiskey, seven, delta.
Whiskey, seven, delta.
Rat's in the trap. I
repeat: rat is in the trap.
- She be all right?
- She'll do. Is Norman set up?
- Not quite, Sergeant.
I was thinking maybe over there,
but I thought I'd
check in with you.
- Do I look like
your mom, Carter?
- No, Sir.
- Well, get that gun
up there right away.
- Yes, Sarge. Norms.
- Come on, then, Marlena,
we've got a job to do.
- "Marlena"? Sometimes
you scare me, Norman.
- It's a Germanic name, Sarge.
Just trying to make our
guests feel at home.
- Fucking hell.
- Sarge.
How's that?
- You'll never
learn, will you, Reg.
- Heh.
- Don't understand, Sarge.
Ha, I just don't
know how he does it.
- Best not to ask, son. Our
Leach moves in nefarious ways.
- Oi. What's that mean?
- Ah, the Jerries have
come to call, lads.
Stir your stumps.
Where's Harris?
That way.
- Fuck sake, Fred, put it away.
- Sorry, Sarge. When you
got to go and all that.
- Oh, can ya at
least try and hold it in
for the next 20
minutes, all right?
- Don't worry,
Sarge. We got this.
Best of the best and all that.
- Yep, just try
not to die, yeah?
- Mm.
- This is gonna be tight.
- Mason, you're late.
- Sorry, Sir, had a
little trouble with
our French comrades.
Target will be with us
in less than a minute.
- Will they do, Mason?
- Sir?
- This ramshackle lot.
I mean, are they really
the best you could find?
- Work with what
you've got, Sir.
- Not the command I'd
hoped for, not at all.
- Sir, the target.
- Ah, yes, of course,
have Waters call it in.
- I've already taken
the liberty, Sir.
- Of course, you
did.
- And Sir, may I suggest
that when this kicks
off it might be best
if you just stay
back, just in case.
- Just in case of what?
- So that you can direct
the battle, marshal the men,
if you get my meaning, Sir.
- Thank you,
Sergeant Mason.
Yes, I believe I do
get your meaning.
May I remind you that
this is my operation?
The plan is good and
will go like clockwork,
assuming that you and your
men follow your orders.
Now, do you get my
meaning, Sergeant?
- Yes, Sir, don't worry about
the lads. They know the job.
- Good. See that
they stick to it.
Don't let me keep
you, Sergeant Mason.
- Sir.
- Ah.
- Gotta be something
pretty special.
Secret weapon. Black
bag job, maybe?
- Nah, mate, I got a look at
the Henry's map last night.
There's a German garrison less
than 15 miles down the road.
- So?
- I reckon the brass wants
to hit 'em where it hurts.
When was the last time
you saw a wage packet?
Jerry's been getting paid on
the regular, though, I'll bet.
They're efficient, that lot.
- Wages truck.
- Reg, mate, I think we've
earned ourselves a bonus.
- Oh, bloody hell.
- You all right there, Sir?
- Quite alright,
thank you, Sergeant.
- Incoming.
- Why isn't she firing?
Take the bloody shot.
- She will when
she's ready, Sir.
Argh.
- Down, boy.
- What're we waiting for?
- She's just making safe, Sir.
- They're down. What
more do you need?
- Just give her a minute, Sir.
She knows what she's doing.
- I've had quite enough of this.
Can't sit around all day
waiting on bloody women.
Come on, gentlemen.
- Sir.
- We have a prize to secure.
- Reg, now's our chance.
- What?
- Payday.
- Leach. Leach, no.
Harris, Norman, uh,
don't bloody move.
If anyone comes round
that corner, hose 'em.
- Sarge.
- Sarge.
- He's toast.
- Aye, this one, too.
She's some yoke, ain't she?
Right, jump up.
Grab whatever you can.
Stuff your pockets.
I'll hold up the brass.
- Righto, boss.
Oh, fuck.
- Reg, no.
- Ambush.
- Sneaky bastards.
- Argh. Urgh.
- Argh.
- Uh, urgh. Argh.
- Cover us!
- Argh.
- Argh.
- Leach.
- Argh.
- Fucking dozens of 'em.
- What do we do?
- Get him out of here.
Fucking have this.
- Argh.
- Ton fusil!
- Argh.
- Come
on, then, let's go.
- Argh.
- Urgh.
- Lost your nerve, Sergeant?
We have a job to do.
Come on, lads, follow me.
- Argh.
- Argh.
- Coming through.
- Gah. Urgh.
- Go, go, go.
- Urgh.
- Come on.
- Go, go, go, go,
go.
- Move.
- Go.
- Move.
- On me.
- Move.
- Go, go, go, go,
go.
- Move.
- Go.
- Move.
- On me.
- Go, go, go, go.
Go, go, go.
Come on. Come on.
Norman.
- Sarge.
- Get rid of him.
- Urgh, argh. Argh.
- Urgh, come on.
- Argh.
- Incoming.
Covering fire!
- Argh.
- Let's go.
- Gah. Gah.
- Go.
Go, go, go, go, go, go.
- Argh. Uh, argh, urgh.
- Argh.
- Go.
- Move.
Move back.
- Urgh, argh.
- Go, go, go.
- Over here.
- Argh, aw, oh,
ah, cheers, big man, urgh, aw.
- How you doing, lad?
- Oh, I reckon I'm
a goner, Sarge.
- Let's have a look. Hmm.
- How fucked am I, Harry?
- On a scale of one to 10.
- Aye, sure, why not?
- I say somewhere
between Jessie-
- Ah?
- And big girl's blouse.
- Gah, big red balls!
- Sorry to report the
patient's gonna make it, Sarge.
- Really? Damn.
- What about the lieutenant?
- Do you feel like
going back for him? Hmm?
- No, Sarge.
- They bloody knew
we was coming.
- Eh, eh, leave it, Harris.
- It wasn't my people.
- Well, it wasn't bloody ours.
- Well, either
way, we're in trouble.
- Urgh.
- Radios went down with Waters.
We got no coms.
We're on our own.
Can you help us?
- Maybe, but uh, I'll need
time, something you don't have.
- Look, we're going
anywhere fast, are we?
- Okay, I'll send word.
- Ah.
- Dig in. Hold them
off as long as you can.
- Look, we can't hold
'em here. It's too open.
There's no space anywhere.
They'd be all over us.
- I think I know a place.
- No.
- Head north, past
the old church.
- Watch our back.
- Okay.
- Okay, let's move.
Carter with me.
- Oh.
Come on, boy.
- Urgh,
come on.
- Argh. Argh.
- Come on.
- Bruise and all.
- Shit.
Urgh.
- Come on, lads.
Watch it. Watch it.
Come on.
Come on, come on.
- Argh.
- Let's go. Let's go.
- Argh.
- Come on.
Come on.
We're gonna have a brew there.
Think of that brew, huh?
You think of that
brew boys. Come on.
- Something ain't right.
- Like what?
- Those two. Doing all
the scouting for us?
- Yeah, they're our
guides. Remember, Fred?
- Maybe. I heard the resistance
cut the hair off traitors.
- What? You reckon she's
a collaborator?
Come on, mate, let's go.
- I'm just saying.
It ain't normal.
- A little bit further
and you can smell that brew.
- Oh, I'm okay, man.
Let's take a break, lads.
- Argh.
- Ah.
- Argh.
- Put your head against this.
- Ah.
- You all right?
- Ah.
- Here. We got you, lad.
We'll get that cup
of tea for ya, yeah?
- Ha.
- She's coming back in, Sarge.
- Oh yeah?
I know. I know.
They're catching up. How far?
- Uh-
- Huh?
- For us to get there,
about two hours with him.
For them to catch
us, about 30 minutes.
You know what we have to do.
- Sarge, we can't leave him.
- Look, Fred, gimme a
minute, yeah.
Just gimme a minute.
Leach, you still got that paint
you half-inched of Jonesie?
- I didn't nick nothing, Sarge.
That was fair and square.
- No, have you still got it?
- Norm's got it.
- Norm.
- Sarge.
- I'm gonna need you
and that paint, lad,
and someone find me some nails.
- How's
Norman know German?
- His mom works down
the docks.
- His mother's in the
import-export business.
Ain't that right, lad? Huh?
- That's right, Sarge.
- She welcomes 'em in and
waves 'em right back out again.
- All right, let's move out.
Quick as ya like, lads.
If this works, it won't
work for very long.
- There. Look.
- Really?
- That's your idea?
Not exactly secret, is it?
- Aye, catch yourself on.
First bloody place
the Jerries'll look.
- Easy, lads.
What d'you think, Sarge?
- Maybe she's right.
Hide in plain sight.
- It's a bit of a bloody gamble.
- It's what
you're best at, eh?
Got a better idea? Hmm?
Let's go.
- Come on, hop along.
- Know this place?
- The farmer was my cousin.
He was one of us once.
- So he'll help us?
- The SS caught him,
shot him in front of his
family to make an example,
and they slit his throat,
tied him to a farm post, and
used him as target practice.
Nobody lives here now.
- Hmm, she's cheerful.
- Let it rest.
- Hmm, shouldn't
we say something?
- Like what?
- Dunno, s-something,
just anything, just, uh-
- She'll be fine.
- Yeah, I know, but...
- But?
I don't know if you've
noticed, Carter,
but there's a war going on.
People do horrible
shit to each other.
Right now, we got
a messed-up girl
that's got a passion
for fucking up Germans,
and that's exactly what we need.
We could do with a
few more like her.
We're gonna get outta this.
Come on.
- Ya see, the thing
ya have to understand
about the sergeant, Carter,
he's struggling
with a heavy burden.
- Really?
- Oh yeah.
You wouldn't know it
to just look at him,
but our Sergeant Mason is
carrying a deep dark secret.
- Tell me.
- Not sure now's the time.
- Aw, no, no, no, no,
no, no, nah, come on,
you can't say something like
that and leave me hanging.
- Hmm, yeah, alright.
You have to swear not
to tell no one, right?
- Uh, uh, course.
Listen, on my honor.
- Ya see, the thing
about the sarge.
- Yeah.
- He's a miserable
twat.
Come on, we better get shifting.
Don't want to be left behind.
- Come on, dickhead,
keep up, he-he-he. Argh.
- Clear.
- Urgh.
- Argh.
- Urgh.
- Argh.
Ha, thanks, mate.
- You'd do the same.
- Not a chance.
- Heh.
- Ha. Ah.
- Looks good.
- Safe enough.
- Psst, Sarge.
- Thought you said
this place was deserted.
- It was.
- Sarge.
- Smoke.
Turn around, and put
your fucking hands up.
- What's he saying?
- Drop it.
- Drop it. Drop it.
Drop it. Drop it.
- Who is he?
- Ah, you're English.
- And you're not French.
- You observe well,
mademoiselle. I am Belgian.
- Frenchy.
Stand down, boys.
What you doing here?
- I could ask the same of you.
Today has not been a good
day for you, I think.
- You could say that.
- I have coffee.
Put down your weapons.
I'm thinking you need a drink.
- Milk and sugar?
- There is no
hope for the English.
- Sorry, mate. No hard feelings.
- What
you doing, Leach?
- Heh, heh, hey.
Argh, what d'ya think?
- Pretty neat.
You'll be doing a
palais glide in no time.
- Aye, chance'd be a fine thing.
Oh, been a few years
since me and Reg cut a rug
at the Hammersmith Palais.
Now, he, he was a
proper ladies' man.
- Yeah, did pretty
well for a short-arse.
- Aye, aye, he said that
was his secret weapon.
Said they couldn't
see him coming.
Aye, guess his luck ran out.
- Yeah.
- Poor bastard.
- Tch, aye.
- Still, ha, think
this'll do the trick.
I think I could give you a
run for your money, old man.
- Ah, I'll let ya
have that one, mate.
You know I haven't run anywhere
since at least, ooh, 1935.
- Come on, then,
let's go for a dander.
- Let's.
- Argh.
- Easy.
- Mm-hmm. Argh.
Sarge. Argh.
- So what you doing here?
- This farm belonged to
the nephew of my friend.
He, uh, used the kiln
for the local village.
He make, uh, pots, bowls,
everything
but uh, no more.
- No, I heard.
So you're a potter.
- Uh, in some ways.
I understand enough.
These days, there's many
buildings needs repair,
and materials are hard to find,
so I make the bricks.
- You know, the
smoke gives you away.
- I had not thought of that,
but no one comes here now.
- Until now.
- Well, ha ha, yes. Ah.
- Listen,
we're gonna have
to take your truck.
- I cannot permit that.
- It wasn't a request.
- That truck is very
important to me.
The war has taken
much from my people.
Without that, there
is no shelter.
- You do understand
I could just take it.
- Yes, Sergeant, you could.
- But.
- But I am thinking you are
not that kind of soldier.
I'm right?
- Huh,
keep it.
I'd probably just crash
the bloody thing anyway.
Still haven't got used to being
on the wrong side of
the road and all that,
but it does mean we'll be
with yer for a while longer
till I figure something out.
- Captain Mason.
- Sergeant.
- Sergeant Mason, we are not
unsympathetic to your cause.
Actually, we are
very happy for help
from all our allies, but-
- But ya want us out of here.
- It would be for the best.
It's just that-
- The area's crawling
with Germans,
and they don't take kindly to
locals helping out the enemy.
I get it, yep.
Believe me, I wanna
be out of here, too,
but I'm pretty low
on options right now.
My guide has a
contact in Nabille.
She'll be with us shortly.
We'd be out of your
hair by morning.
- Nabille is a difficult
journey when there is no war.
Why would she go there now?
You trust her?
- What other options
do I have, eh?
- Let me see your map.
Here is Nabille. See?
- Of course.
- When were you last there?
- Uh, a week ago maybe.
- Ah, we went through two
days ago when we come here.
There is checkpoints
here and here
and patrols everywhere.
- She's the local.
- He clearly knows more than me.
- I do not think you
should go to Nabille.
- So what do we do, then?
- Here in the
North is a railway.
Uh, the Germans use
it for supplies.
Follow here, and you
may arrive at the river.
- Mm-hmm.
- And then, what?
- We find a boat.
- Mm-hmm.
- You can be out of
the danger in 36 hours.
- Or dead in three
if they catch us crossing
the railway line.
- Uh.
- You really want rid
of us, don't you? Hmm?
- You want me to lie?
- What do you think?
- What about him?
- What do
you reckon, Harris?
- Don't worry. He'll do.
- Okay.
- Much obliged for
your hospitality.
Hope it doesn't end
you up in trouble.
- Good luck, Sergeant.
I hope the journey is over soon.
- Ready?
- Yes, Sarge.
- Hold on. Where's Harris?
- Heh, guess.
- Harris,
get over here.
- Gimme a second, man.
- Can't it wait?
- When you get to my
age, you'll understand.
Oh, shithouse.
Stand tall.
- Leg it.
- Never been one for running.
- Covering fire.
- Urgh.
- Argh.
- Urgh.
- Harry.
- Fred. Fred, Fred.
Fred. Fuck.
- You bastards.
- Argh.
- Leach! Leave it!.
- Argh.
- Come on boy! Come on boy!
- We need to run.
- No chance. Leach ain't
gonna run anywhere.
There's open fields all around.
They'll cut us down
before we get to cover.
- Then we go for the truck.
- Fucking do it. Go.
- Come on.
- Do it.
- Aw, shit.
- There.
- Argh, fuck you.
- Right, if you keep
their heads down,
I'll start her up, back
up to the barn, okay?
- Okay.
- Okay?
- Be quick.
- Argh.
Shit.
Empty.
- Go. Go.
- Now, Annette. Now.
- Godspeed, mate.
- Uh.
- Fuck.
- Uh.
- Looks good.
- Should soak up
some of the damage
but won't hold them forever.
- Ammo?
- Just over 300 rounds,
enough to ruin their day.
- Good work.
- Sarge. Aw.
- Trouble?
- Tank's dry.
- Why is nothing
ever bloody easy?
- What now?
- Do what we do best,
being a pain in the
arse for the Krauts.
- Oh, what's the plan.
- Smokes and frags,
half a dozen of each.
- Ooh, that's not a lot.
- Mason.
We have a problem.
- What's up?
- They appear to
be inviting their friends.
- Not exactly ideal.
- Hold on.
- Thought
we'd have more time
before they got the word out.
- No use crying
over spilled milk.
- I do not understand.
- Uh, it's an English thing.
- Here they come.
- Argh.
- Carter.
- With me.
- Covering fire.
- Go.
- Urgh.
- Argh.
- Ooh, lovely.
- Down. Fuck.
Light a match, Cart.
Ready?
- Gah.
- Move.
- Lergh, largh.
- Argh.
- Ah.
- You thinking of
taking a break, Sarge?
- Well, I could do with
one, even if they don't.
What's that old buzzard up to?
Ah, well, full marks
to the old boy, uh,
but I'm hoping he'll
give us a lift.
Missus doesn't like me
staying out too late.
Argh. Urgh.
- Bloody hell.
Uh, you got a girl
waiting for ya, Carter?
- What, Sarge? Oh, nah, nah.
No, not me, Sarge.
- Heh, well, it's probably best
all things considered, huh?
Ah, now, what about that lift?
- Horses. What about the horses?
- Well, that'd solve
the Leach problem, yeah.
You up for it?
- Yeah, yeah, smoke again?
- Ah, it worked
last time. Come on.
- Why aren't they just
blowing the hell out of us?
- How's your bowling arm, Leach?
- Ah, I'll manage, Sarge.
- And move.
- Uh, argh, argh. Argh.
Wait for it. Wait for it
Follow me, Leach.
One, two, Carter, go. Ready?
- Ready.
- Now.
Keep him covered.
- Ah, thank you.
- Be ready to move.
The Jerries'll be on us as
soon as they see the horses.
- What's the plan, boss?
- Grab your gear and hop
around the back of the barn.
The second Carter brings the
horses, get on one, and go.
Do not wait for us.
You have ridden before, right?
- Aye, wee bairn Sarge.
- And I don't mean
on Blackpool Beach.
Okay, stay low, and
hold the fuck on.
- Yes, Sarge.
- Where is he?
- He's taking his time.
- He'll make it.
- There.
- Shit.
- Oi, Frenchy, hang on.
- Well, can't say I blame him.
- You fucking coward.
- Oh, merde!
- Where are you, Carter?
- I see him.
- Margh.
- Shit.
- Gnargh.
- No.
- Uargh.
- Urgh.
- Urgh.
- Gargh.
- Urgh. Urgh.
- Hmph.
- Argh.
- Ines. No.
- Urgh.
- Huh-dah.
- Argh.
- Oh no, no, no.
No, no, animals.
- Nargh.
Argh.
Gah.
- Ah.
- Ah.
- Carter.
- Okay, come on,
come on, it's okay.
It's okay. It's okay.
It's okay. You're okay.
- You all right?
- Uh, yeah.
That was a bit hairy.
- They could've
easily overrun us by now.
It doesn't make sense.
- What happened in the stables?
- Sorry, Sarge.
- I guess the Frenchies
had somewhere better to be.
We had a bit of a
discussion about it.
- Well, it's good to
have you bad, Son.
Certainly timely.
- Thank you, Sarge. Thank you.
- How we doing?
- Badly.
If they keep this up,
I'll be out of
ammo by nightfall,
and my Marlena,
she's a hungry lady.
- Damn.
- Yep.
I'm sorry. She was a tough one.
- Prison
camp'll do that to you.
- She was a prisoner?
- Yeah.
Germans tortured her for weeks,
took her hair.
But he still didn't break.
I'm sorry, too, about Harris.
- We will get out of here.
Just give the sarge
a bit of time.
He'll come up with something.
- I think we just
ran out of time.
- Sarge.
- Mortar. Shit.
- That's fucked it.
- What do we do, Sarge?
- Well, if we're really
quick off the mark.
We could have time
for a couple of hands.
- They're well-positioned,
and we're outta smoke.
There's no way we're
running through there
without running
straight into crossfire.
- So?
- So we get blown to shit,
or this old shed
falls down on us.
Either way, we're fucked.
- I don't think I could
put it any more eloquently.
We are most royally fucked.
Here we go.
- Hang on.
- What're they up to?
- I've absolutely no idea.
- Carter, tell your girlfriend
I need her to go for a nose.
Argh.
- Gah.
Argh.
- Argh.
Hmph.
- Urgh.
- Know how
to use that thing?
- She was teaching me.
- What're they up to?
- Arguing.
- Oh, that's not good.
New guy's a general.
Yeah, he's SS.
- SS?
- Mm-hmm.
Okay?
You know what they
did to your cousin.
Won't let them get anywhere
near you. Don't worry.
- You have no say in this.
This is between me and them.
I could kill him
now if I wished.
- No, no, no, no,
no, no, no, no, no,
no, no, no, no, no.
You can't do that.
- I do wish to,
but he must be the reason
why they're not
using the mortar yet,
so I won't kill him yet.
I'll tell Mason
about our new friend.
- Urgh, urgh, huh.
Urgh, ha.
Urgh.
Uh, huh, heh.
- Okay.
They coulda rolled
right through us by now.
I mean, not that I'm ungrateful,
but what's he up to, Sarge?
- Oh, I'm not about to
stay around to find out.
- Ooh.
- Ladies and gents.
- Don't say a fucking word.
- We have ourselves our
very armoured car.
- Nice one, Norman,
but I still think
it needs something.
Ah.
Right, everyone,
this is our way out.
Grab your gear. Get ready.
- Mason.
- Oh, bloody hell,
what now? Carter.
- Look.
- Parlay. Really?
- I reckon they've heard
of our devastating
military supremacy, Sarge.
- It's that or
your cologne, Son.
- What do we do?
- Well, I guess we better
talk to them, right?
Let's see what he wants.
- Are you sure?
- Not one bit.
- General Horseler, the
2nd Panzer Division.
- SS? No need to
salute, General.
I'm nobody important.
Mason, William Dennis, Sergeant.
- Are you in charge?
- Since your lot
promoted me, yeah.
Gah, oh, uh, got ya.
That's better. Ah.
That's been giving me
jip for fucking ages.
Alright, General, what's up?
- You are surrounded.
Half your platoon is dead,
and I assume you're
running low on ammunition.
- So you want us to surrender.
- It would seem sensible, yes.
I'm sure you have as little
desire to be here as I do.
- You're not wrong there.
Trouble is
I've got even less desire to
spend the next couple of years
freezing my tits off in a
prison camp somewhere in Poland.
- So you refuse.
- Surprised?
- No, I've met your kind before,
and I must concur:
Poland is a terrible place.
- So.
- So if you permit it,
I would like to
collect our fallen.
And then, I'm afraid
we must proceed.
- All right, fair
enough. Help yourselves.
I'll give you an hour.
- My thanks.
- Right, we got an hour.
Grab your stuff. We're off.
- Uh, oi, what about the truce?
- That's only for
officers, I'm afraid, lad.
Unless you wanna wait around
ready for them to kill us,
this might be our only chance.
This is pretty simple.
On my mark, run like hell.
- Do us proud, Marlena.
- Oh, she'll do ya
proud all right.
- Fighting fire, lad. Hmm?
- Aye.
- Yeah?
- Ready.
- Hmm?
Now let's get the
fuck out of here.
Now.
- Get down.
- Sniper.
- Argh.
- Take cover. Get the fuck back.
Go.
- Uargh, uargh.
Rargh, get the fuck off me.
Get off me, ruargh, argh.
Gah, oh, you shoulda
let me kill him.
- That's twice now. Twice.
You're gonna get us
all fucking killed.
- Carter, listen, look, I'm-
Gah.
- Sarge.
- Get down.
- Argh. Fuck.
- Sarge, okay, it's okay.
- Argh.
- The lights.
- All right.
- Oh, my time
to play nurse, he says.
- Urgh, ha, Christ, not
you. Leave me to die.
- I can't see anything.
- No, he's still there.
- Fuck, we shoulda known.
- No, we had to do something.
- Nah, I still don't understand
why they haven't just
come for us, huh?
You'd expect 'em
to come at night.
That general,
something's stopping him.
- You keep an eye out this side.
I'll keep an eye out the front.
- Okay.
Carter.
Uh.
Cover me.
- No, no, no,
no, no, no, no, no, no.
Annette.
- Uh.
- Uh, uh. Um, uh.
Uh, urgh.
- Urgh.
- Tuh. Huh.
- Annette.
- Huh, huh, uh, clear.
- Who?
- Uh, dunno.
- You all right?
- Yeah.
- Well, maybe you should
go check on the others.
Alright, look, listen,
I can take it from here.
- No, stop making a fuss.
He's dead. I'm not, okay?
- Right. Right, sorry.
Uh, this is some kinda,
some kinda workshop.
- Yeah.
- Oh, damn.
- What?
- Gold.
- Wow, that's a lot.
- This, this is still hot.
Oh.
- Okay.
- Guess we know what
Monsieur Julien was up to.
- Yep.
- Sounded fun.
- Was a little hairy.
- Ha, lemme guess.
Yous two have found
us a magical tunnel
that'll whisk us
back to old Blighty.
- In a
manner of speaking.
- Huh?
- Frenchy's left you a present.
- Is this...
Fucking hell, d'yous know
how much this is worth?
- Not as much as the other
three dozen down there.
- What?
- Reckon you'll have
a bit of trouble
spending that around here, lad.
- Oh, there's nothing
yous can say right now
that's gonna ruin
the moment, Sarge.
- Anything else worthwhile?
- Yes, Sarge. I think Julien
was running some kinda racket.
- So that's what the
old buzzard was up to.
- Shit.
- Shit. Carter.
- Here they come, Sarge.
- If that's the way they
wanna start the morning, huh,
let's give 'em what they want.
Carter, Frenchy, do the honors.
Morning, gents.
Argh, argh.
- Argh, ah, looks like the
general's made his mind up.
- Think we should surrender now?
- Do you wanna?
- No, Sir.
- What about you two?
- Fuck that shit.
- Aye, what she said.
I've suddenly had my world of
possibilities expanded, Sarge,
and I'm not giving that
up for some wee dolt
in a snazzy outfit.
- Ah, so long as you're sure.
- Pretty banged up.
We're nearly out of ammo.
- Well, we got a warehouse
full of the stuff.
The finest British
tradition, lad,
cobbling stuff together
and hoping it works.
- Fuck, what you
saying, dickheads?
- Argh.
- Gah.
Hmph. Gah.
- Argh.
- Whoo.
- Hoo-ha.
- Carter.
- Urgh, argh, hmm.
- Argh.
- Huh.
- Thank you.
Ya with us?
- Aye.
I was thinking maybe
we could take a break,
halftime, change ends.
- You alright.
- Pfft, I'm upright.
- Frankly, I don't know
how we've gotten this far.
I'm impressed.
Being out of ammo's
a bitch, though.
- The Germans have plenty.
- Go and see what you can find.
- Uh, oh, urgh.
Urgh.
Argh.
Gah. Uh.
Gah, heh. Urgh.
- Well?
- Uh, look this.
Look at this.
- This was on Julien?
- It was.
- What is that?
Jesus Christ.
- Ooh, well, this just
got a bit more complicated.
- Shit.
- Urgh.
- Oh no.
- Whoa, whoa,
whoa, whoa, whoa. Annette.
- She hurt?
- I don't know.
- Shit.
- Why didn't she say?
- Leach, what you got left?
- Uh, I can sterilize
it with this.
- Do it. Do it now.
Quick, Leach.
- Stop getting so bloody
keen, ya bunch of gits.
- Aw, fuck.
Those bloody bastards are
gearing up to come again.
They'll be on us in a minute.
- Mm-hmm.
- How is she?
- Think she's alright for now.
- But.
- We can't keep
doing this, Sarge.
All three of you are...
- Mm.
- Well, you're...
- Fucked?
- Yeah.
- Well, we could do the
surrendering thing, I suppose,
but it won't help.
They aren't gonna
bother hauling us off
to clog up one of
their hospitals.
It'll be four bullets and done.
- Hang on, Sarge.
I might have an idea.
- All right.
- Yeah. Yeah,
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Yeah, it's about Monsieur Julien
and, uh, the, the SS
general and everything.
I've, I been thinking.
- Now, what have I
told you about that.
Thinking only lands
you in trouble.
- Heh. You got a plan, then?
- Do I fuck?
I've been winging it
for the last two days.
Look where that's got us.
I told you I'm not your mum.
If you got something,
something you wanna try,
I'm right behind ya.
Lord knows I don't have
the strength to stop you
even if I wanted to.
You gonna tell me your big plan?
- Morning.
- D'you have a light?
- Mm.
- Not many left. Hmm?
- How's this work, then?
Never done it before.
- I believe
introductions are usual.
- General Horseler, the 2nd-
- SS. I heard.
- Lance Corporal Carter.
Uh, I'm not in
charge or anything,
but uh, the boss hasn't
been feeling too well
and needed a lie-down.
- You know, my soldiers
are not very happy with me
for agreeing to
this conversation.
- No?
- They want you
dead, all of you.
Not only have you killed
many of their comrades,
but they are proud men,
and by surviving, you
have humiliated them.
- And you
feel differently?
- I want this over as
quickly as possible,
so the sooner you surrender
the sooner I can go
about my business.
- Ah, well, that
certainly makes sense.
No point killing us
for the sake of it.
- Exactly.
Surrender your weapons
and you will be given
medical assistance
and escorted behind the lines.
- Yeah, that's very generous
of you, Sir, really.
We just don't quite fancy it.
- Corporal Carter,
you are not in a
position to bargain.
Look at the state you're in.
Surrender now before
you try my patience.
- I can't do that.
- Fool.
- Am I?
Because, see, from
where I'm standing,
you're the one looking foolish.
Ah, you're
rumbled, Herr General.
- I do not understand.
- You must've shit yourself
when you showed up last night.
I mean, I bet the last thing
you were expecting to find
is half the local garrison here
and us sat on top of
your little operation.
- Lance Corporal, I do not
know what you're talking about.
- Really? Well, let me
make it clear, then.
Gold, General,
melting down the spoils of
war to line your own pocket.
I mean, did you collect it
off the bodies yourself?
Or did you get your lads to
do that bit for you, General?
Julien knew.
- Julien?
- Monsieur Julien, the potter,
from Belgium, I believe,
or should I say
SS-Oberfuehrer Mueller,
your right-hand man.
I wonder what your
Wehrmacht comrades will say
when they learn their
boss is a grave robber.
- You have no proof.
- No?
- What do you want?
- Passage out of
here for me and my men.
- Ridiculous.
- Not really. I'm offering
you exactly what you want.
You want us out of here
before this lot rumble ya
and find your little stash,
and we really wanna go.
Alright, all we
need is some fuel,
and we'll be on our way.
Much obliged.
- You got balls bigger than
Sisyphus, Carter. Who knew?
- Yeah, can you tell
I was shitting myself?
- You were being
very British, heh.
- Transport's ready, Sarge,
first class, courtesy
of the fuehrer.
- Don't get cocky, Carter, yeah?
Just fill it up, and
let's get out of here
before they change their minds.
- Fuck sake. Ah.
- Urgh.
- Uh.
- Gah, huh.
- I think the love light's gone
outta their marriage, Sarge.
- You know, I
think you're right.
Such a shame.
- It's the kids
I feel sorry for.
- Ready to go?
- Aye, let's get
outta this shithole.
- Job, Carter.
- Thanks, Sarge. Okay.
- Miserable git.
Balls.
- Not happy, lad?
- I mean, we're alive.
I can't fault that, but
those poor bastards,
Reg, Harris, Norm,
Waters, Ines.
What do we have to
show for it all?
- Well, we got a
pile of bricks, yeah?
We could build an house.
Oi.
- Good quality,
lad. Take a look.
- Scheisse.
- Turns out Monsieur Julien
was pretty good at his job.
They were planning
for their retirement,
and the general weren't invited.
- Bloody hell, Sarge.
I mean, bloody hell, you knew.
- Carter figured it out.
Well, we thought we'd earned
ourselves a little bonus.
Don't you reckon?
- Yes, Sarge.