All language subtitles for Kajaki.2014.1080p.BluRay.x265-RARBG

Oi! Man in the water!

Man in the fucking water.

Shit. Stick to their own fucking side, man.

Cheeky fucking midgets.

Oi. Check your arcs, Rambo.

VVhoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, Mowgli!

I'm here trying to bring fucking peace and
love to your shitty stone-age country.

Is it too much to be able to enjoy a rinse without
taking indirect fucking fire from you lot?

Let that be a lesson to ya.

Go on, fuck off now, then.

Ever heard the one about not walking into a room

until you know how you're
walking out of there, Tug?

We all miss our birds, rnucker. No need
to start groorning the local nippers.

Fuck off.

Grenade fishing, nearly catch
of the fucking day, me.

Hey, no harm done.

TWO, yeah?

First lesson my grandma taught me, Tug.
Don't pick a fight with an armed midget.

We're a long way from home.

What you talking about, you're from Huddersfield.

- Go on, mate.
- Cheers.

Race you back up?

Ah, you're fully loaded, mate. Unfair fight.

OK, go! Now!

- Signals?
- Yeah, mate. Cheers.

Come on then, what's the news? Heard
there was a heatwave back home.

- Typical, innit?
- Heatwave? Pissed it down, mate.

Anyway, where's the FLET?

FLET? Hat!

It's all around you, mate.

Terry pokes his nose up here. We
smash him back into his hole.

Bosh!

- Did you bring it?
- In the back, pal.

My guy tells me something's coming.

They got a new field commander.
Keep your eyes open.

Sure, John. Cheers.

- Civvies here?
- Yank security.

They look after the engineers working on the dam.

Talk about hearts and minds,

this joint would supply electricity
to half of bloody Helmand

if someone could work out how to turn it on.

- So where have you been?
- Ops room, Bastion. Sangin, then here.

- Ah, Sangin. Proper tasty, right?
- Telling me.

- Is this us?
- Nah. OMLTs.

Teaching the ANA which end
of a weapon's the noisy bit.

We're up top, mate.

- So what's it like up here?
- Right, OK, fellas...

It's going on, that's what it is, rnucker.

I quit the reg after Telic. Zero contacts, mate.

I joined back when Herrick was on.
Finally get a piece of the action.

Rather be in the scrum than on a
subs bench, do you know what I mean?

Not really.

Rugby's a real game, mate. Taliban
should play it. Tough bastards.

I'm pretty sure Afghans don't play rugby.

Here, look, look, look.

- Give us a lift up, pal?
- Hop on, Tug.

- Do one, Prosser!
- Good for you, hat.

Fucking dick swinger.

Hop on, Mark!

- Did they come?
- Dunno, look in here, Spud.

Sergeant McMellon. Signaller Jones.

Shit the fucking bed!

I hope you know how to use a radio
without batteries, Signaller Jones.

For fuck's sake.

- Right, welfare box. Who wants it?
- Yeah, I'll have it, Pross.

Any decent scoff though, we split it, yeah?

Prosser, stop twatting about
and get that stuff up there!

Fusilier AL Barlow's got his porn re-sup.

Fuck me, Ken, your mum looks hotter every month.

- Yeah, fucking hands off, mate.
- The rest?

Mark. Here you go, mate.

Cheers, pal.

- Signals?
- Oman, yeah.

- Jonesy.
- Mark.

- How you doing, man?
- Good, mate.

- What the fuck's this?
- You been up here before?

- You dicks!
- No, first time.

- Aye, ar, mortar boys, you can have that one.
- Jay, you wanna show him around, mate.

Well, we know where your basha is, Barlow.
Keep an eye open, that's all I'm saying, mate.

Look.

Luke, boat came in, mate.

Skin 'em up will you.

- Prosser, catch you up there, pal.
- Yeah, man.

Fuck it. Ten quid. Thanks Aunt Pam,
just what I fucking need out here.

New TACSAT's come in, Spud. I'll set it up.

This is Athens. You've got
three-sixty all-round defense.

Down here you've got the GPMG fifty cal.

Clackers for the claymores. In
here's the interpreter's place.

That's water, ablutions. You got
burn pit, shit pit down beyond that.

Right, this needs to go over with the other stuff.

Ken.

Oh, for fuck's sake, Spud, I did it yesterday.

Thank you, Ken.

Thank you, Prosser.

- Come on, lads...
- You're in here with the medic and the med store.

- HQ, mortar pit.
- Go on then, fucking sign 'em out...

There's about sixteen odd here at Athens.

Seven, eight, up at Normandy. That's it.
Stay on marked tracks. Enjoy.

Well, the clinical term is dick rot.

- Was it anyone nice?
- Four, actually. All delightful.

Bastard.

Right, put it away. You gotta be
careful flashing it about this lot.

What is it? Long time on the hill.

Gungy mortars? The rumors are true, pal.
Not that they'd go near that rancid thing.

Oh, yeah.

From Nog Gorman.

Happy birthday.

He says make sure you save 'em
till the big day. When's that?

Seventh. Why, what are we now?

Unlucky, pal. Fifth.

Fuck that. I'm not waiting two fucking days.

Oh. You taking heat up here?

Nah, I get more contacts when my bird's on the rag.

I mean it were busy for a bit but...
Terry's pissed off back to Sangin.

We own all this high ground.
Out of small arms range.

A few Chinese rockets, bit of boom
boom in the valley, but that's it.

Lucky 'cause we're out of ammo.

Nah, boredom or ANA'll get you before Terry does.

- Right. Jonesy, yeah?
- Yeah.

Antibiotics, anti-inflammatories.
Take one of each before each meal.

Run the course.

Give the pin dick a bit of R and R, yeah?

Stop staring at me arse, you throbber.

What's the fucking hurry, hat?

Aye up, lads, budgie express inbound.

Uh, wind direction please, Private Harvey.

- I do know this guy, right?
- Out of the west, Private Smith.

Uh, yeah.

OK, I'm, uh...

I'm dead. I'm a man. I'm British.
I've got a gay beard.

We think.

We think. I, uh... killed a
king and I'm not Guy Fawkes.

Who didn't kill anyone.

- For fuck's sake, Stu, mate.
- Fucker!

It's like watching a retard
trying to fuck a doorknob.

I thought you knew your fucking history.

Just fucking guess, will you,
before I slit my fucking wrists.

- Am I anything to do with King Arthur?
- No.

You got three guesses and then
it's five bines for mush.

- This is a fucking stitch-up.
- Ah, hey, rules is rules. Right, Stu?

When you're Wounded and left
on Afghanistan's plains

and the women come out to out up what remains

just roll to your rifle and
blow out your brains...?

And go to your God like a soldier.

For fuck's sake.

What you doing putting this
shit in your fucking head?

Well, it's a bit of perspective, innit?

Perspective on what?

What a dour-faced bastard Rudyard Kipling was?

You fucking pricks.

It's Quasimodo and Wurzel Gummidge.

- It's alright...
- What happened, Ken?

...you can get your own fucking shit tomorrow, OK?

Did you get the three-fifty chargers?

Uh, negative.

For fuck's sake.

- Fuck off the two of youse.
- Prosser's got another unit.

- Alright cock smokers?
- Yeah.

Here, how come it's always you
that gets the crap jobs then, Ken?

Ah, fuck off.

Crap hat, crap job.

Eh, you can fuck off too, Cromwell.

Faz.

- Am I Oliver Cromwell?
- You're an idiot.

It doesn't count if someone
fucking tells you, does it?

- Rules is rules, Smudge, yeah. Five bines.
- You absolute knob.

Nice shot...

I swear to fuck, Smudge, see if you make
me Jimmy fucking Krankie one more time

Here, Smudge, watch this. Ready?

'Pressive.

Ninja fingers, mate.

- ...weird.
- Mayo on sausage? You fucking weirdo, mate.

It's sweet, mate. Mate, sausage,
cheese and mayo on a fucking sandwich.

Swear to God, mate. Don't look at
me like that, I'm telling you.

Hurry up, man. I'm fucking starving.

There's a lot of fucking about down there, Mush.

Oh. Fucking petrol station again, mate.

- Here, go get Stu.
- Sure.

Stu. Stu. Stu. Stu! Wake up, mate.

Activity at the petrol station.
Come on, get your arse up.

- Come on.
- Fucking hell. Alright, come on.

Bloody hell, Jar Head. I was
just getting to the good bit.

Right, what we looking at?

It's that fucking petrol station again, Mush.

They're persistent little
bastards, I'll give 'em that.

Right.

Kilo Two, this is Kilo Five, over.

Kilo Two, this is Kilo Five. Over.

For fuck's sake.

Kilo Five to Kilo Two. What
the fuck was that? Over.

Kilo Two. Enemy activity in the
vicinity of the petrol station. Over.

Roger, wait out.

- What's the rush, you fuckers. We got all night.
- Call it in.

- Somebody get Mark.
- I'm here. What we got?

Contact from petrol station.

- Hello, Zero, this is Emerald Seventy-Nine. Over.
- Kilo Four to Kilo Five

enemy fire from direction of petrol station.

- I thought we'd smashed that?
- All ANA call signs...

Apparently not. ANA call sign engaged. Wait out.

Roger, Kilo Four. Out.

Area around firing point clear.
Request CAS. Mark, you're up.

Hello Zero, this is Emerald Seventy-Nine, JTAC
requests immediate close air support. Over.

Roger, wait out.

Hello Emerald Seven Nine, this is Zero.

One Dutch F-16 available, call
sign Hitman One One. ETA two, out.

- Roger last. Two minutes.
- Tidy.

Roger Kilo One, we're on this. Out.

- Hello Hitman One One, this is Widow One Three.
- You gotta hit those bastards hard and fast. Over.

- Roger. Out. Again.
- Widow One Three, Hitman One One...

...has you five by five. Be advised
no laser munitions on pod at this time.

No LGB.

Jay, take post.

Hitman One One, we will illuminate target. I
will clear hot on your confirmation of target.

Copy, Widow One Three.

Fire Mission number two, illum, X-ray One Three.

Number two, illum, X-ray One Three.

Guess we're not the only ones
who got re-supped today.

Ammo ready.

Number two, fire.

Number two firing.

Firing... Now!

Five, six, seven, eight, boom.

Spot on, Jay.

- Hitman One One, target is lit.
- Master craftsman, this one.

Petrol station in low ground,
base of forward slope.

- Tally target.
- Widow One Three, clear hot, clear hot.

Hitman One One, clear hot. Hitman
One One all hot, nine seconds.

He needs double tops...

- Still needs double tops.
- What's he fucking doing over there?

Hitman One One, missed target.

- That cunt couldn't finish off his dinner.
- Target is two-hundred metres west...

- Well it shut 'em up at least.
- ...of impact point. Request another run.

Hitman One One...

negative Widow One Three, I
am bingo fuel. RTB. Out.

Hitman.

Zero, this is Sandstone Two Eight, contact.

Multiple Chinese rockets fired
from Wombat Wood. Over.

- Returning fire with GPMG...
- That Sangin?

- ...fifty cal and mortars. Over.
- Yeah.

We can pick them up forty-six K’s away
but not Normandy one K away, mate.

Fucking scalies, right?

Yeah.

- You just come from there?
- Yeah. R and R, but before then, though, yeah.

Were you there when Bry Budd got killed?

Team medic. I saw him when he came in.

Brave fucker should get something for it.

Yeah, too right, mate. Too right.

We spent five weeks up there
with our arses hanging out.

- I was there the night they hit the tower.
- I heard about that.

There was Pete Thorpe, Hashmi and a terp
listening to all the ICOMM chatter.

Told us to get down, knew something was
coming, then it fucking took them all out.

Aye.

- Anyway. You on selection, that you?
- Yeah, maybe.

I fucked my knee on the hill two years ago.

One shot left. Gill's not
exactly crazy about it, like.

What, your missus?

- Fiancee.
- Still do it, though, yeah?

My uncle's an SSM in Hereford, mate. Wouldn't
let me hear the end of it if I didn't.

- How about you?
- I don't know...

...maybe in a few years.

Yeah, good.

Shh, Shh, shh, Shh.

Dog biscuits?

Best mate's wife sends 'em out.

- Yeah.
- There a lot of mines out there?

Mate, this whole country's full of shit
left behind when armies fucked off.

Roads, tanks, mujaheddin.

Russians it was the mines.

Ten million fucking mines.

Come on.

God knows what we're going to leave behind.

Come on.

Aye up. Looks like Kajaki Jon was
right for once. Definitely stopped that motor.

Yeah, they're pulling them out the back. It's
two adults, looks like, uh, two children.

Cash changing hands.

Well, that's an illegal vehicle checkpoint
on the six one one, Corporal Pearson.

Militia threatening and
extorting money from civilians.

Well, that explains that
fucking about last night.

Hmm.

Range?

Two-five, two-eight?

- To far for a snipe.
- Not from here, yeah.

- What about a mortar?
- Nah, civvies.

There's a possible firing position, ridge
to the south. Brings 'em in range.

Dunno, there's a lot of deep ground out there.

Cannae see any ground sign.

Could take the goat track down.

Smudge's been laying trip
flares down there, right?

Well... at least it ain't just
another day on Mount fucking Longer.

Fuck it

- We need to OK this with Spud, alright?
- Hmm.

Right, go and give the ladies
a shout, get a plan together.

I'll meet you back here in twenty.

Hey, there's one for you here, Jar Head.

'Tanning Tips for Red Heads.'

Comedy tips for cunts.

- Right... who fancies a bimble?
- Yeah.

- Yeah.
- I do.

Cobalt Four Five. Acknowledge Cobalt Four Five.

Cobalt Four Five, roger. Nothing
further to report. Out.

Emerald Seven Nine, SITREP.

Nothing significant since last
engagement at zero one hundred.

Critical request for three
fifty battery re-sup. Over.

Requests at the end of the show. Up
on the roof Bronze seven seven. Over.

Go straight to RC South, Spud.

When I want your opinion I'll
fucking give it to you, Prosser.

Right, change lads.

Cheers.

Admiring my Napoleonic combined
arms assault tactics, are we Jay?

Checkmate. Watch and learn, hat.

Fuck it. I should have just
droned the shit out of you.

Once more unto the breach?

Once more unto the fucking khazi.

Morning, mate.

- Med kit?
- Yeah, mate, yeah.

Boys. Let's make it quick, yeah?

Fucking Ali. Ali fucking Baba.

Bell end.

All OK'd?

Yeah.

- Youse are good to go?
- Yes, mucker.

Faz is on fire support. Jar's taking
the three-fifty and he's a team medic.

Yeah, you get a sore throat down
there you'll be in safe hands.

Alright.

Talk me through it.

Down the goats track to the south-east...

re-entrant to the wadi, up
the slope to the west ridge.

Faz is rear man, and, uh, Bomb Head's
got eyes on so it's full cover.

Alright, ladies, radio check at the bottom.

I'll see you when you get back.

Oi, fatty.

Anything happens to me down there, make
sure you tell your mum I love her.

Will do.

Right, eyes on, boys.

Where's Ken?

Ah, don't make me go over there again, Sergeant.

Radio check, mate.

Hello Kilo Two.

This is Kilo Two Bravo, radio check, over.

Kilo Two, OK, over.

OK, out.

- Stu?
- Contact! Mortar!

Stu!

- Got fucking eyes on, yeah, mate. Fucking eyes on.
- Calm it down, Stu, right. Just leave the rifle.

I just lost my fucking finger, pal.
Don't tell me to fucking calm down.

Stu, Stu. Listen to me. You stepped
on a fucking mine, mate, alright.

I what?

- Oh! Fuck! Ah, Jesus fucking Christ!
- It's alright... Just fucking hold it, alright?

Fuck. Ah, fuck!

- Fucking shit!
- Alright, nearly there, pal, alright?

Just fucking bear with me, man.

- Ah! Fucking tie... Fucking tie it! Shit!
- Shut the fuck up!

Fuck! Ah! Shit!

OK, OK, OK.

There it's on. It's on. It's on. OK it's on.

Where the fuck's the three-fifty?

Where the fuck is three-fifty?

Fuck me!

Right, Kilo Two.

Kilo Two Bravo, come in.

Kilo Two, this is Kilo Two Bravo, come in.

For fuck's sake!

Stu, Chris, come on, man, man.
We've got a man down in the wadi!

Faz, you tell them we need a CAS
EVAC fucking smart, alright!

Now go! Go!

Stu! Stu! Now fucking wake up.

Yeah?

You're gonna be alright, OK.

- Yeah, well I'm fucking- I'm fucking not am I?
- No you are. OK, listen to me, OK.

I'm gonna check you for other injuries, yeah.

Get some morphine into you, buddy. Yeah?
You just fucking hang tight, OK?

Kilo Two Bravo.

Kilo Two Bravo.

Jar Head, what the fuck's going on?
Did any youse see anything?

- No enemy movement.
- Fuck.

Right. I want eyes on them.
I want eyes on the wadi.

If anything moves, fucking smash it.

OK, lads, let's fucking go.

Kilo Five to Kilo Two. What the
fuck's going on over there?

Kilo Two. Mine strike.

- Mine strike.
- Kilo Two?

Fuck!

- Zero, this is Emerald Seven Nine...
- Dave, Jay, Luke, Ken

mine strike on Normandy.

Tug, man down, mate. Med Bergen, let's go, yeah.

- Anyone else got a med kit?
- One here, rnucker.

Alright, get on, Jay and we'll follow.

- I've got one. Team medic.
- Alright, good lad.

- Come on, man down, boys. Let's fucking go.
- Mark.

- Mark, you don't know what you're moving into.
- Well, someone's got to fucking do it.

Faz, what the fuck's going on!

- Stu stood on a mine.
- Fuck! How bad?

His fucking leg's gone, mate.

Bomb Head. Get a Nine Liner to Athens.

It's Stu Hale, confirmed. P one, winch required.

Bastard!

Come on Tug, one of our boys
is fucking dying over there!

There'll also be another one over
here in a minute, fucking hell!

Tug.

Mine strike on Normandy?

- That's what they said.
- Get in.

Not long now, Stu. Alright?

Alright lads, the fucking cavalry's here.

- Alright, Stu, boy. Smudge is here, mate.
- Here, Smudge. Get this would you, mate.

I've got it, I've got it. Go on. Go on, mate.

Guy, what the fuck have you done now, aye?

- How we doing Jar?
- Yeah. Got a tourniquet on.

Given him a shot of morphine... in the good leg.

How we doing, big fella?

Heard you screaming all the way
from the top, you big homo.

Aye.

All I heard was 'Oh, my leg! My fucking leg.'

I thought to myself, here I
know that big poofy voice.

You reckon I'll still be alright
for selection, rnucker?

Course you will, buddy, alright.
You're gonna be fine.

I was fucking joking, mate.

Just sit tight, alright? We're
gonna get you out of here.

Hey. You alright, yeah?

Maybe we can carry him up?

I don't know, mate. We need to keep him level.

One times P one casualty.

ZAP Hotel Zero Nine Eight Three. Winch required.

Kilo Two to Kilo Five.

Hello Kilo Five, it's Kilo Two.

Fucking piece of fucking shit.

What's happening?

Stu Hale went on a patrol.
Think he trod on a mine.

Where?

Down the wadi. Stu Pearson
took Smudge to check him out.

There's no comms on the ground.

What's that?

'I. Am. Gay.' Jar Head, mate, now's not the time.

Oi, Smudger.

- You couldn't check my prick for me, mucker?
- Yeah, it's alright. It's still there, still tiny.

Give us a fag, would you.

Watch your step, mate. There's mines.

I've got a med kit.

Oi, follow our line in, mush.

- Yeah, you got it.
- Rescue party's come down from Athens.

Mark's got a stretcher.

Fuck me!

- How you doing?
- Yeah, no fucking drama, mate.

It's still bleeding. I got another tourniquet.

- Hold on, Stu, yeah.
- Hold on, mate.

- Right, ju... Hey, give me a second, right.
- Now, hold on.

Hold on, mate.

Ah! Fuck!

Fucking... Ah. Fuck you!

- Well done.
- Well done, mate.

Nearest secure HLS is Lancaster. No
emergency HLS identified at this time.

Winch requested. Over.

Can casualty be extracted to HLS? Over.

Unknown. Winch requested. Over.

Wait out.

Heard you needed comms. Eight oh eight.

- How many have you got?
- Uh... two more.

You stay here. Give me the comms.

I'll take one up to Normandy, put the
other on the ground with the medic.

Right, I'm Kilo Five Alpha. Kilo Five Bravo,
in the wadi. Normandy stays Kilo Two.

- Alright, let's go, come on.
- Yeah.

You're doing brilliant, buddy. You're doing
absolutely fucking brilliant, alright?

Keep the leg still, yeah?

Any of youse know how to cannulate?

- Glad you could join us, Tug.
- I'm faster downhill.

Fucking...

Follow the line in, Mark.

...dressing to the knee.

Tug. Tug, I'm out of dressings, mate.

- Grab a stretcher, buddy.
- There's still dripping on the stump here, mate.

OK, everybody.

- Nothing left, mate, at all.
- Shut the fuck up, now!

Jar Head, get them buttons done.

Tell me what's going on, pal.

Alright, um, right leg as you see it, mate

- Uh... right hand.
- Yeah.

- Damage to left leg.
- Yeah.

Uh, says his right knee's giving him jip, too.

I've strapped it off, given him a
pen of morphine, marked it up.

- I'm fucking shit out of med kit now, mate.
- Right, Jay?

- SITREP, mate.
- I applied a second tourniquet.

- Um, I've wrapped it up...
- We've got deep ground all round, buddy.

I've got the OP keeping an eye on us, but
we don't want to get taken by surprise.

Alright. Nicely done, lads.

- Further mine threat?
- Fuck knows. We need to assume there is.

- Extraction?
- I've asked for a winch.

Good job.

Right lads, listen in.

We've a bloke on his arse so
let's make him comfortable.

Smudge, get some cover on him, mate.

Luke, join Foreman on stag.

Kenny, you rnucker,

mark the safe route in, clear the area around Stu.

Check your immediate space, fellas.
Stand only on proven safe route.

- Jonesy, get on Athens, check on CAS EVAC.
- Right, Stuart...

Stick your ball... ball
your hand on my fist, yeah?

Dave.

Nobody else in or out without
my say so, buddy, alright?

What's our call sign?

Kilo Two Bravo, mate.

- But you won't get any response from that one.
- Just fucking try it!

Hello Kilo Five, this is Kilo Two. Bravo, over.

Hello Kilo Five, this is Kilo Two Bravo.
Radio check, over.

Always get the crap jobs, eh, Ken.

Down the wadi. Follow the goat track.

We got comms.

Hey, radio check when you're in.

Alright lads, this isn't working,
we need to get that Bergen

underneath his knee, keep it elevated, yeah.

- Smudge?
- Ah, cool.

Let's get this med pack
underneath his head, Jar Head.

- Yeah, just watch his spine, pal.
- Cheers.

Tanning tips for redheads, eh?

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa wait.

I think I found something.

No, it's just a rock.

Jesus, Ken.

- Hey, hey...
- I'm sorry lads, I'm sorry.

Come on, listen. It's important that
we clear the rocks out as well.

You know, in case we want to come down
and plant some fucking cabbages one day.

Right, Stu. Looks like you might
have a break above the knee.

Nothing I can do now, but I've given
you another stick of morphine, yeah?

I know it chafes but you're not dying today, yeah.

You're a strong fucker, you're gonna be alright.

Onto the fucking paperwork.

- Oi, Tug.
- Yes, mate.

Give us a fag, would you mate?

Mate, just one fucking bine.

What's it gonna do? Blow my other fucking leg off?

Huh?

You fucking legend, mate.

I won't tell on you if you don't tell on me.

Stable down here, Mark. How we doing on CAS EVAC?

Nobody else in, mate.

I've got comms from Normandy.

The medic can come in, Dave, no one else.

Be my guest.

Marked route, pal.

You're Kilo Five Bravo

Spud's Kilo Five Alpha and Normandy's Kilo Two.

Cheers, pal.

Alex, how are you for fluids, pal?

Hello Kilo Five Alpha, this
is Kilo Five Bravo, Over.

Kilo Five Alpha, what's the
status on casualty? Over.

Corporal Hale is P one.

Stable but needs immediate EVAC, Spud.

Can casualty be moved to Normandy for EVAC? Over.

- Wait out. Medics, can we carry him out?
- Well, he's stable when he's flat.

At an angle there's a chance he
could bleed out or bleed in.

- We need a winch, pal.
- That's what I've been saying.

We've got a stretcher.

We should have enough bodies to keep him level.

- Have you seen how fucking steep it is?
- Just cut the corner, go up the re-entrant.

No way are we leaving the path.

I'm saying stick tight, wait here for the heli.
That's my opinion.

Mark, what you thinking?

We need to pull him away from the rocks.
Get him in the open.

There, the raised bank.

Alright.

Right, lads, listen up.

- I need 2 bodies to help clear a route over there.
- Kilo Five Alpha, send, over.

Kilo Five Bravo, preparing to move.

Tidy, step in.

I want youse on your belt
buckles, shoulder to shoulder.

I'm gonna follow youse with the flags.

Roger. Wait out.

Come on, lads, let's fucking move.

You're seeing this?

Kilo Two to Kilo Five Alpha. Taliban
movement on the six one one.

Might be headed your way.

Roger Kilo Two, keep your eyes on it.

Kilo Five Alpha to all call signs. Be advised,
enemy movement in the vicinity of Tangi.

Possible threat to Kilo Five
Bravo position. Wait out.

I might as well be prodding a fucking car park.

At least if it's this hard they won't
detonate if you walk over 'em.

I don't think that's how it work.

One here, boss.

Just mark it buddy... and then deviate.

- So I killed lots of people but I'm not a soldier?
- Correct.

- Killed myself?
- Yeah, um... hanged yourself, I think.

What am I some kind of fucking
serial killer or something?

- Correct.
- Fucking prick.

Oi, same again barman, yeah?

How many's he had now?

That's his third.

Am I...

- Stu?
- Yeah?

You got a bleed on on the left leg, mate.

Nothing major.

Just gonna tie you off, pal, alright?

Better safe...

- Am I... uh... am I Fred West?
- No.

- This is the last from Normandy.
- Nice one, Prosser.

Cheers, Jonesy.

- I'm alive?
- No.

Kilo Five Bravo, ETA on CAS EVAC, over.

Wait out.

Look out.

Kilo Five inbound. ETA on
task one zero minutes. Over.

Confirm minutes one zero. Over.

Confirm. Wait out.

You hear that, Stu? Ten minutes, pal.

What they sending, Mark?

They'll send what they send.

They gonna touch down or...

Tug, we'll work it out, fuck.

Stu!

Path safe.

- Alright. Moving day, gents.
- Right.

You, you, you and you on Stu. You
guys grab anything that's left.

Strong grip. My count, on three. One, two, three.

- Strain. One, two, three.
- Here we go.

Oi, somebody get my rifle.

- Cheers, mucker.
- Yeah, I've got it, mate.

- That alright?
- Yeah.

Here, Jonesy, give us your Bergen, pal.

- You alright up there, Stu?
- Hmm-mm.

Ah, like the Maharajah of
Helmand Province, aren't you.

You want to peel me a grape?

Nah, but I've got a couple of
ripe plums here, if you want.

Kilo Five Bravo to Kilo Five Alpha.

Casualty moved to pick-up point.
ETA on CAS EVAC. Over.

Hello, Kilo Five Alpha, this
is Kilo Five Bravo. Over.

Do you need anything else?

Kilo Two to Kilo Five Bravo. Your
man's on the TACSAT to the JOC.

CAS EVAC options still fluid, believe we have Black
Hawks inbound to you from Kandahar. Wait out.

Job guys.

CAS EVAC inbound.

I need overwatch from all of you, got that?

Stretcher bearers and Tug stay with Stu.

All other personnel, thank you for your
help, boys, and you can all fuck off now.

- Cheers crap, hat.
- Endex.

Oi.

Stuey, smile for the camera, buddy.

- Stu.
- Hmm?

- Fancy getting a photo?
- Alright.

Where's my Bergen?

Oh, fuck, sorry mate. I took it over there.

- That's one for the khazi, that one.
- Stu!

- Bring that other med Bergen out with you, yeah?
- Will do.

You alright, Mark?

You smash those fuckers tonight, yeah?

- Will do, buddy.
- Hmm.

With fucking pleasure.

You faggots, stop flirting.

If you're the Russians, you know, seventy-nine,
eighty and you're defending Normandy...

Where'd you lay your APs?

- Try not to fuck it up from here, aye?
- Dead ground on approaches to the OP.

- Why, what's up?
- Dunno.

What the fuck are mines doing down here, mate?

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Oh, fuck. I'm down. Lads I'm down.

GROANS

Fuck. My leg. My fucking leg!

- Stu, wait, I'm coming.
- Jay, Smudge, get the fuck back!

Stand fast, Smudge, the whole
place is fucking loaded.

I stood on a fucking...

Safe route is not fucking safe, man.

Ah, fuck! Ah, fuck!

Let's go.

Somebody get me some fucking morphine.

- Oh, fuck. Ah, fuck. Fuck off.
- It's alright, Stu.

- Let me do my job, buddy. Let me do my job.
- Leave me! Fucking leave me!

- Stuey... Stu.
- Fuck! Fucking hell.

- Was it fucking Stu?
- Come on. Come keep your shit together.

- Alex, do you need any kit?
- Get off me.

Ah, leave me. Just fucking leave me.

- Right, all done.
- Nice and tight, mate.

Yup.

- Get ready to take his leg.
- No!

Right.

Fuck! Fuck!

- OK, all done.
- Any kit out?

Right, move it.

- Fuck. Oh, fuck!
- OK, mate.

- Ah, fucking hell! It really... Ah!
- Right, alright...

- Fuck!
- What kit have you got?

- Oh fuck!
- Mate, where's your fucking Bergen?

He was carrying it.

What have you got?

Uh, morphine, tourniquet, saline, dressing.
One of each.

Ken, elevate the leg!

- What do you need, pal. Let me know.
- Stay there, Tug. Just fucking stay with Stu.

- Mark. Now, Mark, do you need me in there?
- Stand firm, Jar Head. No one in.

Help yourself here. Here take the fucking leg.

Kilo Two to Kilo Five Bravo. SITREP, over.

- Take his leg.
- Yeah.

- His leg, mate.
- Move it, move.

- You got it?
- Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Kilo Five Bravo. Mine strike,
Stu Pearson. P one, left leg.

Notify CAS EVAC need for second winch. Over.

Kilo Two to Kilo Five Bravo. It's
a negative on the winch. Over.

Say again. I was informed
Black Hawk was inbound, over.

We'll get you out of there. Just
hang tight, Bravo. OK, wait out.

Going to fucking shit!

- Come on.
- Fuck you!

Can we not just take him over the ridge?

Right, there's a... there's a route up to
Normandy already. It's already fucking marked.

Just take 'em up there. Enough is e-fucking-nough

- we're getting blown up here!
- Smudge, Smudge, Smudge.

Did you not just see what
happened to your pal, Stu?

- Yeah!
- The fucking whole place is charged, mate.

We're going nowhere. Fucking sit down.

Turn your fucking head around and don't
look anywhere except for up there.

Just don't look at him, alright?

See, you hear that? Angels with fucking wings.

Fuck me. Ah, fuck!

That's not a Black Hawk.

Chopper inbound.

Laid them in fucking threes, didn't they?

What's that, pal?

Fucking APs. Ah, fuck.

Hit the guy treating the first victim.

Maximum clusterfuck.

That's a Chinook.

They'll be dropping the MERT at Lancaster.

How you doing, fella? You alright?

Save my nuts, Doc. That's all I ask.

Fuck.

Hey. Your nuts are fine.

- Fuck. Oh, Alex, it's still bleeding, mate.
- What? Yeah, alright, smart.

- This is my last tourniquet.
- Oh, fuck!

- Boys... this fucking minefield.
- Alright, mate. Alright.

Fuck!

Here's something to put on it.

Alright.

- Right, hold this fucking leg, too.
- Yeah, brother.

- Fuck you!
- Alright, mate, we've got you.

Kilo Five Bravo to all Kilos.
We have a Chinook inbound.

Please confirm this is not our CAS EVAC, over?

- Snoop, you got a med pack?
- Kilo Four, affirmative.

- Nah.
- Kilo Five Bravo. CAS EVAC inbound.

- Luke, med pack?
- Nah, I got nothing, mate.

Recommend move casualty to HLS nearby. Over.

Negative. Confirm, we have two, repeat,
two P ones requiring CAS EVAC.

Movement impossible due to
location being minefield...

Chinook unsuitable for pick-up
due to location being minefield.

Request HH sixty with winch
as previously indicated.

Location is a fucking minefield. Over.

Chinook only asset available at present. Over.

Can I have direct comms with Chinook?

Negative Kilo Five Bravo, comms
via JTAC to Apache to Chinook.

- Whoever this is, come in.
- Go ahead, Bravo.

Suggest Chinook enter via
re-entrant to southwest.

Back wheels down onto the rocks. We'll drop smoke.

We may be able to load one
casualty this way. Over.

- Wait out.
- You fucking wait out, pal.

Kilo Two to Kilo Five Bravo.

They're not gonna land in a minefield, buddy.
Just sit tight.

Hey! Drop smoke.

We need to show him where to touch down, yeah.

...not land in the fucking wadi. This
is a hot HLS, repeat, mines, over.

The fucking rocks. Land on the rocks.

- What's he fucking saying?
- He wants to bring him over.

Alright, let's do it then.

No fucking way. That's thirty
metres to fucking carry him.

- You fuck off!
- Bring him on!

We fucking wait! We get them to send in
the ATOs, clear us a fucking path out.

Ammunitions Technical Officer. ATO, fucker.

ATO.

ATO.

What the fuck are they doing?

ATO.

- TO. Take off.
- It's like the fucking YMCA.

ATO.

- Charlie, what's going on?
- They're not moving.

They're signaling something. I can't work it out.

What's going on, mate?

The airframe's here, but we can't
get you fucking over there.

For fuck's sake.

Any call sign, tell the bird
to clear the fuck out of here!

This is a hot HLS, repeat, mines. Over.

They are posing a major risk
to themselves and to us!

Jar Head, SITREP.

Jar Head, SITREP

- Jar Head!
- Yeah?

Fucking SITREP.

Mark's taken it in the chest...

and Stu's been hit again.

And the med's down.

Alex.

Alex?

OK?

OK?

Oi, Jar Head, get him out of here, man.
Fucking get that man up.

Fucking get him out of here. You
do not let that fucking man drop!

Come on man, get your arse over here.

Get him out. Help him out!

It's alright, mate, come on.

Tug!

What do I do?

Tug, what do I fucking do?

Tug!

Tug, what do I fucking do?

...You fu...

Somebody get that...

- I'm fucking dying, man.
- What do I do?

Just hang fucking tight, Mark.

I'm gonna get you out of here.

Come and help me out!

Tug!

Tug, what we doing?

Prosser! Triage!

Prosser! Triage!

Um...

Mark's got wounds to the chest.
It's pretty fucking ugly.

Stu's been hit again but...

- I can't see where, there's fuck loads of blood.
- Where's the fucking chopper?

And Ken's got no fucking idea.

And w-w... what med kit have you got?

Fuck all!

I left the day sack over there.
It's still got a bit of stuff left.

OK, um...

Ken. Ken, should be a day sack near you.
Can you see it?

- Yeah, yeah, it's here.
- Alright, pal. Can you try and reach it for me?

Ken, fucking hell.

- He's gonna set off another...
- Ken, Ken! Don't worry about it, mate.

We'll fucking sack it off, mate. Don't
worry we'll try something else.

- Wait, I'm nearly there.
- Ken, don't do it! No! No, Ken, fucking don't!

I've got it! I've got it!

Oh, God.

OK, what's it got?

IV fluids. Some dressings.

- Two sticks of morphine. That's it.
- Uh, tourniquet. Has it got a tourniquet?

No, no. That's all there is.

Ken, listen to me.

You need to get those dressings to Mark's chest.

Yeah, you need to make your way over there.

Now, Ken.

OK. OK. OK.

OK. OK. OK.

- OK, I'm here. I'm here.
- Right, then, l want you to use a rifle sling...

to tourniquet his arm, yeah?

And that'll stop the bleeding. Alright?

Ken, catch.

- OK. OK.
- That's it, tourniquet his arm.

And try to cannulate and get some IVs into him.

That's it, tourniquet his arm. Yeah.

No, just stop. Mark. Mark, I've got to!

- You need to try to cannulate.
- Mark!

Just a circle, mucker.

Tie it in a circle and put it
round his arm, alright, mate?

Put it round his arm and tie it
tight, it'll stop the bleeding.

Nobody's asking you to do open
fucking heart surgery, Ken.

Where, Prosser!

Where do you want me to fucking tie it?

His arm is barely fucking hanging on!

Mark, please.

Please, Mark, please.

Fuck off!

Someone get me out.

Fucking hell.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, alright, alright, Ken, Ken, Ken.
Just forget the tourniquet.

Use the t-shirt, plug the fucking hole.

OK, let me...

Mark, stop. Mark.

- Prosser, where's the fucking Motorola?
- Fucking stop, mate! OK, OK, OK.

Must have gone up with Mark.

Ken. Ken, look at me. You're doing a
fucking great job, alright, mucker.

Ah, fucking hell!

Fucking wait. Sit, sit down.

Tug.

If you get yourself pinged halfway we've
got ourselves a whole new nightmare.

But I'm the only... I'm the only medic
and this is the only fucking med kit.

You were just telling Smudge not to be a
dick, right don't do anything stupid.

Yeah, but this is stupid.

It is a bit fucking stupid.

Yeah, but I've got a plan.

- Listen, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop.
- Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy, mate, what is it?

Come on.

What's up.

It's my fucking lung.

- Fucking hell.
- You're supposed to land on the fucking thing.

Fuck off.

OK. OK. OK. OK. OK. OK. OK. OK.

OK. OK.

- That's much better.
- Fuck off!

OK. OK, now.

OK. OK. OK.

Come on you fucking pussy. Fucking hell.

What are you doing, Tug?

You can shut up, Mark. Before
I change my fucking mind.

It's too fucking dangerous. Stop it.

I need you to put a tube in me.

- What?
- You're a... team medic.

Ah, no, mate, no. No, no that was, that was two
days in Belfast, man. Two fucking years ago.

Piece of piss. I put one in
a Terry a few weeks ago.

What's your name?

- Wha...
- I said...

- Harvey.
- What's your name?

Jar Head.

Jar Head. My right lung's collapsed.
If you don't cut me...

stick this in my chest, I'll
stop breathing and die.

Second rib. Mid clavicular.

I've asked you once, I can't ask again.
Just cut me.

Fucking...

Halfway, Tug. Fucking awesome.

It's like watching him mount his missus.

Oh, fucking hell... What the fuck am I doing?

Oh, fuck...

Oh, fuck it.

Sod's law, you get pinged on the way back, anyhow.

Here... I thought I told you
about not walking into a room

until you know how you're walking out of there.

OK. OK. You can fucking do this. You can
fucking do this. You can fucking do this.

Oh, why the fuck not. You can
fucking do this! Fuck it.

OK. OK.

It's alright. I trust you.

Second rib.

Just go, right.

- Three...
- Hey! Doctor! Coming down.

Ah, fuck's sake.

Thank fuck for that.

Tension pneumothorax.

- What?
- Tension pneumothorax.

Right side. I need it released, now.

Fuck you, fucking fuck.

Sir.

Where's my camera?

- I need my fucking photos.
- Oi, Tug. Hold him still, buddy.

- He's gonna set off another f...
- Stu, stop fucking moving, mate.

- I need my fucking camera.
- Alright, alright, alright.

We'll get your photos, just
stop fucking moving, please.

Hey, pal, CAS EVAC.

Ken, you got a drink of water,
mate, I'm fucking dying here.

No, no, no, I'm out, mate.

Tug. Have you got any water?

What? You want me to pop back and get some?

And water!

Casualty evacuation, ten minutes.

Barlow. Heads up.

Thank fuck for that.

Here, Mark.

OK. You got it. OK.

- OK, next one.
- CAS EVAC, ten minutes. Yeah.

- Yeah
- Always fucking t...

God damn it! What the fuck
is going on down there? Huh!

Ah, fuck!

Ah! fuck it...

What is so fucking... man!

Fuck! Tug... Tug, fucking help me.

Fucking help me.

OK.

Ken, Ken, I'll get to you when I can, OK?

There's a tourniquet and a morphine pen, yeah.

- You know what you're fucking doing, lad.
- Tug!

Be with you in a minute, man.
Be with you in a minute.

Tug, I need some fucking morphine.

OK, OK.

Oh, God!

I need some fucking morphine.

Yeah, I'm with you, Stu. I'm with you. Prosser!

- I think my lung's fucked.
- OK, mate.

I need you to lean on your side, don't let
any shit drain into the good one, yeah.

Lean up on that rock there.

Tug, please.

Stu, have a pen, yeah? Find somewhere soft,
give it ten. That's your lot, alright?

Thanks, mate.

What are we going to do with you?

Fuck,you.

Alright, mate. Alright, OK.

Where's the fucking blood going?

You're alright, pal. I got you.

Bite down.

...you only stay with us now, OK?

Lad, it's alright. Yeah, take it easy now, alright.

Hold on a minute. Any minute the
helicopter's gonna come, right?

Stay with us, now, OK?

Prosser, are we ready?

Hold on.

Alright, lads.

ZAP numbers on my say, yeah.
Give the medics a head start.

Half a fucking job, Ken. Could have done it
a lot better myself, but it'll do for now.

- It still fucking hurts!
- You've had your left pin nipped off, pal.

It's meant to hurt, but the
morphine'll kick in soon, yeah.

Uh... OK, OK, go.

Alright, Stu. Go, pal.

I cannae...

- I cannae fucking remember.
- Don't be a fucking bender, Stu.

It's important information, it
could save your fucking life, pal.

Cool it, Mark, cool it, Mark, cool it.

Stu, go!

Pearson, Corporal, SH, 3 Para...

Papa, six four three nine. P1, left fucking peg.

Sorry, sorry, wait, Papa what?

Papa six four three nine.

OK, and a, a left, what?

Jesus fucking Christ, anyone here speak gangsta?

Sorry. Right. Got it now.

Ken, you're up next, pal. Go on.

Barlow. Fusilier.

- How about you, mate? How you doing?
- AL.

Ywo RRF.

Yeah, I'm alright. I think I might
get a tan out of this, though.

- Here.
- Bravo five...

Keep an eye on Stu, yeah. He's
all over the fucking shop.

He's slamming the morphine sticks
like they're fucking voddies.

How's it look?

Barlow, Fusilier, AL, 2RRF.

- AL? Thought you were called fucking, Ken?
- Bravo five three seven six... P1.

My name's Andy.

- Why you called Ken?
- Ah, don't be a spaz, Tug.

- Ken Barlow?
- Hmmm.

Ken fucking Barlow?

Ken fucking Barlow!

OK, OK, pal. Alright, alright.

Here you are, Stu, pal. Let's
get some water on board.

- Hey.
- What, pal?

- What's your name, scalie?
- Jonesy, Jones.

- It's a shit nickname.
- You do any better?

- Stu.
- That's not a nickname.

Stu Hale.

Haley. I, uh...

- I tried to get them to go for Halo.
- Nice.

- But Stu stuck.
- So...

what do they call the other Stu?

Stu.

Someone needs to look at that.

It's all my fault, isn't it?

No.

- It's not your fault, mate.
- Don't talk like that, mucker.

Think about getting out of here.
Think about your family.

Yeah. Hey, yeah. Have you got any kids?

Hmm. Jimmy. He's, uh... five.
He's, he's a good kid. An...

And I got another one on the way... Yeah.

Oi, Smudge.

You tell Shannon, yeah...

You tell her if it's a boy...

you fucking tell her to call him Alexander, yeah?

And if it's a girl, call her Sofia.

Would you do that mate, for me, yeah?

- I need you to fucking do that for me.
- Shut up! No, I'm not gonna tell her that.

I'm not gonna tell her anything.

Right, cause if I need to clear a route

with my bare fucking hands
all the way to Camp Bastion

I'm getting you out of this gash pit.
Do you hear me?

And it's not gonna be, what is
it, Sofia, fucking Alexander

it'll be fucking Smudge Junior, or Smudgella.

And I'll tell you something else, mush,
you're gonna fucking make selection and all.

You're gonna be the first fucking one-legged,
bunny-hopping badge there's ever been, alright?

So none of this fucking platform
four, self-pity fucking bullshit.

We spent too much BST getting you this far.

We haven't given up on you, the least you
could do is not give up on us, you cunt!

Jesus, Smudge, easy on.

- 'Gash pit'.
- Shut the fuck up.

Fucking beautiful.

Shit. Tug, it still fucking hurts.

The morphine'll work, pal. You
just got to give it time.

It's been a fucking hour, man.

It's been half an hour, Ken. Let
me tell you something, Ken.

The more you shout, the faster your
heartbeat, the quicker you'll bleed out.

Alright, so it's for your own good, and ours,
just shut your fucking jimmy, alright.

OK, OK.

Alright, Mark, I'm just gonna
have another look at this, yeah?

It's gonna fucking hurt so bite down, mate.

OK.

OK.

Right, all of you. Just fucking...

...ignore this next bit, yeah,
ignore what I fucking say.

Jay, Smudge. I'm gonna talk shit for a
bit to keep things moving, alright?

Just fucking... everyone
fucking ignore what I say, OK?

Right, listen to me, you pricks!

We've been waiting for this
chopper for three fucking hours.

And if it don't come soon, and I'm talking
now, people are gonna start dying down here.

Minutes, alright, that's what we've fucking got.

You have to fucking sort it out!

C... CAS EVAC. How long?

Just gonna catch forty winks, lads.

- Stu.
- While Cathy gets her nails done.

- No fucking Kraut's getting this
- Stu, don't go to sleep, man.

deck chair off me.

Unless they want a fucking set to...

- Stu, you're talking shit, pal.
- I'm up, I'm up.

Sorry, man.

Fuck. I'm back in the room, lads.
I'm back in the room.

Fuck. Hey, lads.

I'd kill anybody right now for
a cold tin of brew, so is.

That's it, mate. Cheerful fucking thoughts.

- Mark, you're getting married, so I hear.
- Hmm. Aye. November.

Just as well lads, think my wanking days are over.

Might need to get my suit re-measured though.

Think she can fucking recognise me?

Course she fucking will.

- Mark?
- Hm. Aye?

You gonna, you gonna have a big piss-up afters?

Oh, you bet you. Uh... Minto Hotel.
Bells and whistles.

Yeah?

If we get out of this, you...
you lads are all coming, yeah.

- Cash bar?
- Fuck you.

Fucking cash bar.

Fucking arse.

Free bar, fuck, free bar.

Ah, fucking hell. That's diamond.
I'm gonna fucking go all out.

Aye?

I haven't been legless since February.

You don't need to fucking worry
about that anymore, do you, Barlow?

Ah, I'm gonna be fucking legless every night, now.

Ken Barlow.

Hey, lads. I just realised, we don't need
to worry about the third mine anymore.

Good old Ken's fucking found it for us.
Cheers Ken!

- Always getting dicked, mate.
- The really funny thing is, boys...

...they didn't get fucking planted here,
they all just washed off the hill

and down to the river beds. There
could be fucking hundreds of them...

All around here. All around us.

Great place for a fucking bimble, lads.

Quick snipe, then it's tea and fucking medals.

CAS EVAC, ten minutes.

Um...

what's his name... fucking, um... Jeffery Dahmer?

No. Two more.

Jack the Ripper.

No. Last guess, make it a good one.

- Come on, give me, give me some more...
- Eh? What did you say? 'Rules is rules,' Stu.

I just had my fucking leg blown off, mate.

Is that how it's gonna be now? 'Oh, my poor leg.
Oi, lend us a quid, Smudge.'

Alright, fuck off.

- Hannibal Lector?
- Nah.

Let's call it quits.

Harold Shipman.

Harold fucking who?

Harold Shipman, the doctor of death.

No, I've never heard of him.

Of course you have. He killed, like...
two-hundred people, maybe more.

- He's not, like, fucking world famous, is he?
- He's from your neck of the woods.

You know exactly who I'm talking about.

- Well, there's not a fucking plaque to him.
- He's up there. You'd be surprised.

We're never getting out of here.

I reckon you made him up.

Ten minutes.

Kenneth Arthur Barlow.

Hey, Ken!

- It still fucking hurts.
- Yeah, that's good, mucker.

If it's hurting it means
you're alive, mate. Alright?

Stu.

Stu, punch your card.

- My camera...
- ...Fucking camera, pal.

I need more fucking morphine.

You take the pain, Stu. You're
a big lad, you'll be alright.

Mark?

No fucking snoozing, boys, yeah?

- Prosser? You with us?
- Yeah.

Y... yeah. Yeah.

Keep talking to me, Prosser.

Talk about what?

You tell me, pal.

We could talk about the weather.

Short, fucking conversation.

T... tell you what... I'm trying to think
if I've had worse birthdays than this.

And I've had some shit ones.

When I was eight, my...

mum and dad clean out fucking forgot.

All day long I was thinking...
they're just pretending.

They're gonna spring this
monster fucking surprise on me.

Even when I'm having me tea...

in the bath...

getting into fucking bed...

I'm thinking, 'Oh, these guys are good.'

Then they shut the door, turned out the lights...

and that was it.

I cried like a burst fucking drain.

- Then they came back in, though, yeah?
- No.

No. They fucking forgot.

But this is shitter.

Well, we can do something
about that, can't we boys?

Stu.

Ken, Mark.

Happy birthday to you!

Right, come on boys, fucking loud, Stu.

Happy birthday to you!

Louder!

Happy birthday, David Prosser,
happy birthday to you!

One more time, boys, loud. Nice
and loud, let him hear you.

Happy birthday to you!

- Ken, let's hear you.
- OK.

Happy birthday to you.

Happy birthday, David Prosser,
happy birthday to you!

Happy birthday to you. Happy bir...

Tug. Stay on fucking target, man.

My leg still fucking hurts.

Tug, this fucking morphine isn't working.

There ain't no more, Ken.

Tug.

Tug, give me another stick.

Don't you fucking drop.

Just fucking give me it, pal.

Don't you drop, Stu. Don't you dare fucking drop.

You hang in there, mate.

You fucking hear me?

We're 3 Para and we're going
to get through this together.

We are 3 fucking Para.

Remember the fucking history, boys.

Arnhem, Mount Longdon.

Fucking Kajaki, now.

We are 3 fucking Para.

Don't you dare fucking drop.

We are 3 fucking Para.

Utrinque Paratus. 'Ready for fucking anything'.

You fucking hear me?

Oh, Lancashire... is wonderful!

Oh, Lancashire is wonderful!

It's full of tits...

fanny and wanderers.

Oh, Lancashire is wonderful...

Water?

- What?
- Water.

There we go.

That's it, pal.

- OK?
- I'm good. I'm finished. Fucking...

it's disgusting, man.

Hey, give us a minute, man. I think I've got
a bottle of champagne in the fucking bag.

Looks like you're out of luck, mate.

- It's funny...
- What's that?

My mum always said I was born under a lucky star.

How?

Kept on winning things, you
know, like raffles and stuff.

Yeah.

I won her a pair of diamond
earrings at the Sabre Centre.

She always wore them when I came home.

And I've always felt lucky.

My life.

My job.

Gill.

So lucky.

You're no' fucking wrong, Mark.

You're the luckiest guy I know, mate.

You could sail through a shit storm, buddy...

and come out smelling of fuckin' roses. Eh?

There you go.

You'll come out of this as well, too, pal.

I think my luck's run out, guys.

No, pal, you just gotta... you just gotta hold on.

Just hold on, pal.

I'm cold, Tug.

I'm fucking cold.

Not long now, Mark. We'll have you out of here.

- I'm going, I can feel it, I'm fucking dying...
- No, you're... you're not.

- I am.
- No, you're not. You're alright... Fine...

Tell Gill that I love her.

Tell her I want her to be happy...
want her to marry some other fella.

I ain't fuckin'... Shut up with all that shit now.

Tell my mum and dad that I love them.

Tell them have a piss-up on me at the Minto.

No cash bar.

Tell them to look after my dog.

- You fuckin' getting this?
- I'm with you.

Shut the fuck up, Mark.

This time next week, mate...

...we're gonna be drinking
cold lager in the Fox, buddy.

Telling our fuckin' war stories.

Impressin' the fuckin' locals, eh?

Tell my uncle that I died being a
good soldier, yeah? A good Para.

Would do, mate, but you're not
fuckin' dying, eh, you big squeeze.

- We'll get you out of here...
- Yeah.

Just fuckin' hold on, pal. Eh?

You hold on.

- Fuck!
- Fuck! No! Fuck!

Cover up!

Tell him it's a fuckin' minefield!

- It's a minefield.
- It's a fucking minefield!

...fuckin' minefield! Hey!

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa whoa! No!

It's a fuckin' minefield! Watch your step.

- Hang on!
- Wait till your guys know. It's a minefield.

Right. Right guys, come on.
Let's get him over there now.

- See you fuckin' soon, man. alright?
- Give me my fucking rifle!

Watch your heads, right, lads!
Watch your fuckin' heads!

Alpha, we're extracting the LZ... zero point.

On point. Copy that.

Over here, critical!

Morphine. One.

Morphine. One.

He's got a bad bleed on the right side.

Alright, Mark?

Mark! You with me!

You're up! You're up!

OK, got him.

- Prepare to change.
- Let's get this guy loaded on.

This guy's a fuckin' hero.

Stu? Can you hear me? Can you hear me?

- Is he OK?
- He's gonna be alright, buddy.

Out... stop. Right, take over. And away.

Did they all get out?

Yes, Mark. They all got out.

Mark? Mark? Crash!

...need morphine.

Any of you who were in there...

I want you down on the HLS.
Get yourselves checked out.

Emerald Seven Nine, confirm D33. Over.

Zero, nothing good. Out.

Cobalt Four Five. Team close. Over.

Emerald Seven Nine confirmed merge.
Wheels up. Over.

Bronze Seven Seven. Movement on
eastern edge of Wombat Wood...

...can hermes get eyes up? Over.

Zero. No, I say again. I need a
lock-stat on the MERT. Over.

Emerald Seven Nine. Roger. We need fast air now...
bravos quick. Over.

Cobalt Four Five. Contact. RPG firing point
in the vicinity of Kilo Five Two. Over.

Bronze Seven Seven. Contact. Wait out.

Zero, this is Cobalt Four Five.
That's Contact with IBF. Wait out.

Cobalt Four Five, this is zero.
Roger your request for fast air.

Be advised no MERT available for CAS EVAC
at this time. Stand by for alternate. Over.

Zero. Cobalt Four Five. Roger your last. Sit rep
comprehensive... with multiple firing points. Over.

Zero. Bronze Seven Seven. SALT Sierra, unknown.
Alpha, two times RPGs.

Lima, India, Hotel, six, seven, nine,
five, four, five, seven, seven.

Tango sixteen zero eight hours. Alpha, engaging
with fifties, fifty-ones and eighty-ones. Over.

Emerald Seven Nine. Acknowledged. Over.

Bronze Seven Seven. No further activity.
TIC closed. Over.

Cobalt Four Five. Contact mortar. Wait out.

Bronze Seven Seven. Contact
rocket attack. Wait out.

Cobalt Four Five. Sierra, unknown.
Alpha, ...mortars and rocket fire.

Lima, not seen. Tango, one six three one hours.

Alpha, to follow.

Engaging known firing points
and request fast air. Over.

Bronze Seven Seven. P1 critical. Have
you got an update on the MERT? Over.

Bronze Seven Seven. Zero. Acknowledged.

You are priority, however be aware there
are multiple TICS at other locations.

Timings may fit to the right. Over.

Zero. This is Sandstone Two Eight.
That's show of force complete.

I can confirm at the AMP checkpoint you are
to provide overwatch onto the DC now. Over.

Emerald Seven Nine to Hitman One Five.

Confirm happy friendlies. Happy target
clear of Kilo Two Bravo's ordinance.

In from the north. Call for clearance.
Call stores.

Cobalt Four Five. CAS rep one times P1.
One times...

Zero. Roger. CAS EVAC inbound Sangin.

ETA with you in figures one hour. I say again.
One hour. Can you hold on? Over.

Cobalt Four Five. Contact. Wait out.

Hitman One Five. Negative. BDA unsuccessful.
Request re-attack.

Bronze Seven Seven. Contact. Wait out.

Zero north. Say again.

Zero, this is Cobalt Four Five...

Sit rep. DC has been over-run. AMP now appear
to be re-joined towards the visual HQ. Over.

Bronze Seven Seven. Contact.
Rocket attack. Wait out.

Cobalt Four Five. Casualty sit rep OK.

Over... Up to a thousand Taliban in...
unsuccessful attack, request...

Sandstone Two Eight, Sandstone Two Eight
this is zero... Zero. Sandstone Two Eight.

Contact mortars... Standby for... Over.
Can I get an ETA on the MERT...

Bronze Seven Seven. Sit rep. Over.

Hello, Bronze Seven Seven. This is zero.
Message. Over.

Bronze Seven Seven. Sit rep. No change. Over.

Hello, Cobalt Four Five. Hello, Cobalt Four Five.
This is zero. Stand by for small data. Over.

Cobalt Four Five. Sit rep. No movement. Over.

Hello, Sandstone Two Eight, Sandstone Two Eight.
This is zero. Radio check. Over.

Zero. Sandstone Two Eight.
I've got no movement. Over.

Zero. You're unworkable.
Switch to other means. Out.

Sandstone Two Eight. My lock stat. Grid,
Lima hotel, one one four two, four eight six zero.

Moving to higher ground for...
at grid Lima hotel, one

two five zero, four five eight zero. Good so far?

Sandstone Two Eight. I've
RV'd with chief of police.

Taliban still hold the bridge north of the DC.

I've got no eyes on it at this time. Over.

Sandstone Two Eight. Sandstone Two Eight.
Zero. Roger.

Be aware that Kajaki TIC is closed.
So we have prioritized your location.

Standby for, uh... ETA on CAS EVAC. Over.