All language subtitles for The Winds of War S01E04 (1983) 720p Bluray

Hello there, captain. You know
the chief of BuAir, I understand.

- Admiral Gray.
- How about this picture, Pug? Like it?

It's fine, sir. Of course,
I'm a sucker for sea scenes.

So am I, but do you know
he's got the rigging wrong?

What about that, Pug? All the man
had to do was paint a sailing ship.

That was his whole job
and he got the rigging wrong.

Well, that thing
isn't gonna hang in here.

Well, Talbot, what about it?

Are we gonna put Pug Henry to work
on that little thing? Will he do?

If you assign Pug Henry to paint
a square rigger, Mr. President,

you might not recognize it,
but he'd get the rigging right.

- A Naval aviator would be a far more...
- We went through all that.

Pug, I assume somebody competent
is tending shop for you in Berlin?

- Yes, sir.
- All right, Talbot.

Henry, see me tomorrow morning at 8.

- Aye, aye, sir.
- Mr. President.

That painting isn't going to
end up in here, either.

It's going into the cellar.

Oh, just put the papers on the table,
Felix, and thank you.

Thank you, Mr. President.

Well, how was the wedding, Pug?
Did your boy get himself a pretty bride?

Yes, sir, ravishing.

Imagine, a son of yours marrying
Ike Lacouture's daughter.

- Good afternoon, Franklin.
- Just in time.

Hello there, doggy.
Hey, fella.

- This is the famous Pug Henry, dear.
- Oh, what a pleasure.

Captain, are you surprised at the way
the war is going?

Well, ma'am,

in Berlin, they thought the Western
campaign would be short.

Back in January, the war contracts
had a terminal date of July 1st.

They were sure that by then
it'd be over.

That fact was never brought to my
attention. That's extremely interesting.

Why are the British
putting up such a poor show?

Well, the French army collapsed
on their flank, ma'am.

The British either had to fall back
to the sea or surrender.

This is an excellent martini,
Mr. President.

It sort of tastes like it's not there
at all, just a cold cloud.

You just described
the perfect martini.

You've made his day.

Pug...

...will the British hold out
if France quits?

I don't know much
about the British, sir.

Would you like to go there for a spell
as a Naval observer?

Possibly after you've had a month
or so back in Berlin?

Mr. President...

...is there any chance
of my not going back to Berlin?

- You go back there, Pug.
- Aye, aye, sir.

You'll get your sea command
in due course.

Yes, sir.

Will you be taking your wife
back with you?

No, she'll be staying here.

She and my daughter are getting
an apartment in New York.

At some point...

...I'd like your impression of London.

There's the question
of helping the British.

Franklin, you know
you're going to help the British.

Captain Henry here
doesn't know it yet,

but he's gonna be in charge
of getting rid of those old,

useless surplus Navy dive-bombers.

We badly need
a housecleaning there.

Is that definite at last?
How wonderful.

Of course, that may be the end of me,
if word gets out.

Pug, what's your guess on that one?

Is that "man in the White House"

going to break George Washington's
rule and try for a third term?

What I do know, sir,
is that for the next four years

this country is going to need
a very strong commander in chief.

A politician exhausts his welcome
after a while, Pug.

Like an actor who's been on too long.

The goodwill ebbs away
and he loses his audience.

However...

That Sumner Welles thing
didn't come to anything, Pug,

but our conscience is clear.
We made the effort.

You were very helpful.

Thank you, sir.

Goodbye, Pug.

Goodbye, Mr. President.

Goodbye, Mrs. Roosevelt.

Oh, a quarter to 1.

That show was even longer
than it seemed.

How about a drink?

If I'm gonna search New York
courthouses tomorrow

for Aaron's documents,
I probably better get some sleep.

Let me see his letter again.

Why don't you mix us
a couple shorties?

All right.

You know, Aaron is in hot water
on two counts.

First there's this
about his father's naturalization.

If Aaron wasn't actually a minor
at the time his father was naturalized,

then Aaron isn't a citizen, technically.
Never has been one.

Even if he is a citizen...
I mean, even if he was a citizen,

he's been out of the country
more than five years.

I told him he should come back,
stay a few months.

I've just seen too many passport
messes crop up on this one point.

I think the best thing now, by far,

is to have the secretary of state
drop a little note to Rome.

Therefore, there's not much point
in nosing around Bronx courthouses.

I'll get on this
first thing in the morning.

If I'm gonna
hang around Washington,

we're gonna have to
get me a hotel room.

I'm not gonna stay here after tonight.
I feel pretty peculiar about it as it is.

I was on the phone for more than an
hour. There's not a room to be had.

Washington in May is impossible.

If Byron finds out, God help us.

- Will he believe I slept on the couch?
- He's just gonna have to.

Leslie?

Can you get me permission
to go to Italy?

The State Department is advising
Americans to leave Italy, I told you.

But if I don't go back,
Aaron won't come home!

I don't think you're going to Italy
to help Aaron. Not really.

I think you're running away.

Because you're in way over your head
with your submarine boy...

...and you don't know
what on earth to do about it.

My, aren't you the clever one.

I leave in the morning, Slote,
if I have to stay at the YWCA.

Good night.

Yes?

Open up.

Hi. Something on your mind?

Care for a nightcap?

Why, Slote, it's after 2:00 in the
morning. Don't you ever sleep?

All right.
I'm wide awake anyway.

My, how cozy this is.

A fire and everything.

Come here.

That was a very mean crack
about Byron.

Wasn't it the truth?

If we're playing the truth game,
isn't it a lot simpler now

for Foreign Service officers
to have Jewish wives,

now that the Nazis
are beyond the pale?

That never once occurred to me.

It didn't have to occur to you.

Listen, Leslie, you can feed me stiff
highballs and play "This Can't Be Love"

and all that, but would you really want
me to invite you into the bedroom?

Honestly, that would be a sluttish thing
for me to do.

I don't feel like it.

I'm in love with someone else.

You're too damned explicit, Natalie.

You always have been.

It's coarse in a girl.

You said that the first time
I proposed to you, sweetie.

I hate to bring this up again, but I must
go back to Italy and get Aaron out.

Honestly, I feel horrible
about my father.

He was worrying about Aaron
the very day he died.

I must bring him home safe.

All right. I'll arrange it,
if it's arrangeable.

Now we're talking.

Thanks.

My goodness, what a rich drink.
I do believe you're nothing but a wolf.

Let's see, what can I read?

Graham Wallas.

The very man.

I shall be asleep in half an hour.

Listen to me.

I love you.

I'll love you forever...

...and I'm gonna do everything I can
to get you back.

Fair enough.

Good night.

- Morning, Henry.
- Sir.

Air Commodore Burne-Wilke.

- Captain Henry.
- Commodore.

Have some coffee.

Now, let's get at it.

Here, Chicago, St. Louis, Pensacola.

We've got 53 old-type scout bombers,
SBU-1's and 2's

that have been declared surplus.

Wanna get them to Chance-Vought,
Stratford, Connecticut.

That's the manufacturer.

Get all US Navy markings
and special equipment removed.

Our British friends will pick them up
and fly them to a carrier

standing off Halifax.

Now, for obvious reasons involving the
Neutrality Act, this is touchy business.

The idea is to get this done without
leaving a conspicuous trail

- of blood, guts and feathers.
- Aye, aye, sir.

I'll put a plane at your disposal.

We have 60 pilots
on hand and waiting.

How soon could we have
those planes, captain?

Day after tomorrow, late afternoon.
Would that be convenient?

It’ll take some time
to get those markings off.

- Day after tomorrow, you say?
- Yes.

The stragglers could come along
on the deck of the next cargo ship.

Actually, we were thinking
more in terms of a week from now.

We've given some of our fliers leave,
and it'd require a bit of rounding up.

Thursday. That gives you four days.

Four days?

You do think that's feasible?

He says so.

Well, then,
I'd better get right at this one.

- Admiral. Captain Henry.
- Commodore.

Day after tomorrow, eh?

Admiral, I didn't really think that those
fliers were all ready and waiting.

Well, Thursday's cutting it
close enough.

Let's have some fresh coffee.

Refill, Tim.

Now, this whole thing is a subterfuge.
I suppose you grasp that.

The boss man wants it,
so that's that.

But there are a few things
you'd better understand.

Well?

We count 52.

One forced down outside Nashville,
busted undercarriage,

- getting repaired, it'll be here at 0900.
- Quite a job.

How long a drive is it
to New London?

Oh, I'd say about two and a half hours.

I got a son up there in sub school.
Think I'll pay him a visit.

Briny, my love, when you receive
this letter in New London,

I ought to be in Lisbon.
I'm flying to Italy to fetch Uncle Aaron.

With luck,
I'll be back in two months or less.

Don't be angry, sweetheart. It's good
for both of us to catch our breaths.

Your submarine school, and even
Aaron's mess, are providential.

Your father's visit to Miami was an
alarm clock, and it rang Just in time.

Weren't you having second thoughts
about me at Warren's wedding?

I saw your mother's viewpoint
and quite sympathized with her.

Why on earth should her little boy
want to marry this dusky old Jewess

with Rhine maidens like Janice
Lacouture so abundant

in the United States?

I'm not backing out, Byron.
I love you.

But a couple of months to think it over
is no hardship, it's a godsend.

When I come back,
if you still want me, I'm yours.

Plain enough?
So, courage, wish me luck.

Here I go.
Love you, Natalie.

- Yeah.
- Ensign Henry?

- Yes, sir.
- Chief Schmidt

at the commandant's office.
Your father's here.

He's gone with Captain Tully
to Electric Boat to inspect the Tambor.

If you wanna Join them,
they're at Pier Six.

Thank you.

- Not bad, Red.
- I thought you'd be impressed.

Hey, Pug.

Remember that magnetic exploder
you were pushing up at BuOrd?

She's onboard now.
Standard equipment.

Dad.

What brings you here?

I wasn't too far from here.
I thought I'd mosey on over.

- Have you met Byron, Red?
- Not as yet. Welcome aboard, Byron.

Well, you're in for a rough
couple of months, young man.

Well, I'll try and survive.

Let's go aft, I wanna show you
this new electric drive.

- It's a honey.
- Right.

What the devil's the matter with you?

You'd do well to watch your tone with
your superiors, you're in the Navy.

Oh, I know I'm in the Navy.
And Natalie's gone back to Italy.

- Why?
- You scared her off,

saying I won't be admitted here
if I was married.

She probably went back because
of her uncle. She's worried, I know.

If you hadn't come to Miami,
I might be married by now. I know that.

Possibly, I should have butted out,
but the decisions you're making

will shape your whole life.
I was trying to help.

Yeah, you helped.

She's gone.

And if anything happens to her
over there, I'm never gonna forget it.

Hey, Pug!
Ready to go ashore?

This is the toughest school
in the Navy. What's past is past.

Let's get off this thing.

The retreating
British expeditionary force,

England's last hope
for continuing the war,

the entire Belgian army, and ten
divisions of the French 1st army

have their backs to the Channel,

surrounded on all sides
by the German army.

Then, as the badly outnumbered
Spitfires of the RAF

battle the Luftwaffe to a standstill
in the air,

the British Admiralty presses into
service every seaworthy vessel

in English waters.
And in ten desperate days,

338,000 British and French soldiers
are rescued

from under the guns of the enemy.

Calling it "The Miracle of Dunkirk",
Winston Churchill takes the occasion

to deliver one of the most memorable
orations of his remarkable career.

We shall go on to the end.

We shall fight in France. We shall
fight on the seas and oceans.

We shall fight with growing confidence
and growing strength in the air!

We shall defend our island,
whatever the cost may be.

We shall fight on the beaches.
We shall fight on the landing grounds.

We shall fight in the fields
and in the streets.

We shall fight in the hills.
We shall never surrender!

But Churchill's fighting words
cannot hold back Mussolini.

As the French government
declares Paris an open city

and flees southward
and the whole French front collapses,

Italy declares war on France.

The people and the government
of the United States have seen

with the utmost regret
and with grave disquiet,

the decision of the Italian government
to engage in the hostilities

now raging in Europe.

I have, of course, felt it necessary,
in my communications

with Signor Mussolini,
to express these concerns.

The government of Italy
has now chosen to preserve

what it terms its "freedom of action"

and to fulfill what it states
are its "promises to Germany".

In so doing, it has manifested
disregard for the rights and security

of other nations, for the lives
of the people of those nations

which are directly threatened
by this spread of the war.

On this tenth day of June, 1940,

the hand that held the dagger has
struck it into the back of its neighbor.

Natalie! How splendid!
You made it!

I called and called for a taxicab
and when time came for my nap,

none had come.
Except I had a wonderful nap.

Come on indoors, my dear,
and get some refreshments.

- You haven't even begun to pack!
- We'll talk over tea.

- I suppose you want to wash first?
- What is the situation?

Didn't you get word
from Washington?

We heard word from Washington.
Leslie was splendid.

Aaron, you have got to get out now.

Natalie, I have reached page 967
of the book and it's good!

Italy is at war!
And if the British navy blockades...

Why don't you go upstairs and wash
first. You look positively boiled!

You're caked in dust.

The eminent author's niece.

What a pleasure.
Please sit down.

I'm sorry I couldn't see you yesterday,
but I was simply up to my ears.

- It's perfectly all right.
- People are scurrying home in droves,

dumping everything on the consulate,
and I'm up to my neck in paperwork.

- Would you like some Evian water?
- No, thank you.

Well, I have to drink an awful lot of it.
Some stupid kidney thing.

My uncle is under house arrest.

No!

The day Mussolini declared war,
the police came to the villa.

He's confined to Siena, his own home,
as a "stateless person of Polish origin".

But how could they know
about his little passport mess-up?

Obviously, the police intercepted
the letter you wrote.

Oh, my God, that's perfectly awful!
Is that what happened?

I certainly didn't have my thinking cap
on when I wrote that, did I?

How could you recommend
that he apply for readmission

to the United States
as a refugee Jew?

Well, I should be hung,
drawn and quartered.

Frankly, Natalie, if I may call you that,
I thought the visa that I'd issued him

had solved everything and that I'd seen
the last of the messy Jastrow case.

Well, what do we do now?

Blessed if I know, offhand.

May I make a suggestion,
Mr. Van Winaker?

Just renew his passport,
then they can't hold him.

Oh, Natalie, that is so easy to say.

People don't see the screaming
directives we get,

warning us against the abuse
of the passport system.

People don't see the departmental
circulars about consuls called home

and whose careers have gone "poof'

because they were loose about things.

The secretary of state himself wants
Aaron cleared, you know that.

Now, let's get one thing straight.

I've received no written instructions
from the secretary.

Actually, I think that time
will solve your uncle's problem.

The French are asking
for an armistice,

and the British won't fight on for long.
They'd be mad to try.

The Luftwaffe
would pound them to jelly.

No, I fear me,
this round goes to Fritz.

We can't count on the war ending!

Oh, I think you can.

I expect peace by July 1st,
if not sooner.

I want to take Uncle Aaron
home tomorrow!

Please give him the passport!

Unfortunately, my dear,
it is a matter of official record

in this consulate
that his passport is void.

To tell you the truth,
as things stand now,

Dr. Jastrow has no more claim
to American citizenship,

technically speaking,
than Adolf Hitler does.

Now, I couldn't be sorrier,
but it's my duty to tell you the law.

Seems to me
it is your duty to help us,

and you're doing absolutely
nothing about it!

I have a suggestion.
Now, this is off the record.

By all means, tell me.

Just go. Now.

The Italians are so sloppy.

Just get on the first boat or bus
and leave.

Nobody's watching your uncle.

- But won't they ask for an exit permit?
- It's a trivial formality, dear.

Say, "Oh, I lost it,"
and fumbling for it,

you reach into your bag and happen
to take out a few thousand lire

and put them on the table. It's custom
of the country, you understand.

I'd rather go to the consul
general in Rome and tell him

that you are deliberately thwarting
the desires of the secretary of state!

Well, that's certainly your privilege.

I'm prepared to take the
consequences,

but not of breaking the law.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I'm rather busy.

Oh, Mr. Van Winaker,
I'm so terribly sorry.

I've been traveling for two straight
weeks and I've just lost my father,

and I'm just not in the best shape.

I'm terribly troubled about my uncle.

I entirely understand, Natalie.

I tell you what.
I'll comb his file again.

Believe me, there's nothing I'd like
better than to see your uncle go.

You will find a way
to get him his passport?

I'll give it my serious attention.
You have my promise.

Come back in a week.

Send in the next person, Myrna.

Paris falls,

and Hitler's legions
enter the City of Light.

Two days later, the French
government sues for peace.

What does it say?

"Here, on the 11th of November, 1918,

"succumbed the criminal pride
of the German Empire,

"vanquished by the free peoples
which it tried to enslave."

Have it blown up.

Early in his rise to power,

Hitler vowed to erase
the shame of November 1918,

at the place where the years
of Germany's suffering had begun.

He has kept his promise.

It is his towering moment.

Read the terms.

No, Natalie, I just heard from Byron.
He's received no letters.

I must have written a dozen.

What should I tell him? My letters
go through the diplomatic pouch.

That I'm fine.

That I miss him terribly.

He expected you back by now.

There are problems. Tell him not
to worry. They'll all straighten out.

When does he finish that school?

In December,
if they don't throw him out first.

They won't. Anyway,
I'll be back long before then.

Tell him that. And that I love him.

The war's going really badly, isn't it?

Well, the British claim
to be hanging on in that air battle.

Do you think that the Germans
will invade England soon?

Here in Berlin, the Germans believe
that the Luftwaffe

will finish off England in about
two weeks. Goodbye, Natalie.

Goodbye, Captain Henry.

Dear Pug:

CNO says you're
a long-time booster of radar.

The British are secretly reporting
to us an extraordinary success

in their air battle
of something called "RDF".

How about going there
for a look as we discussed?

You'll get dispatch orders,
and our friends will be expecting you.

London should be interesting now,
if a bit warm.

Let me know if you think too warm
for us to give them 50 destroyers.

- Blinker.
- Welcome to London, Pug.

How the devil
do you keep looking so fit?

It's good tennis weather.
I play every day.

Really? Some war you've got here.

Oh, the war.

It's going on up there somewhere.

The Germans haven't dropped
anything on London. You see contrails.

You know the fighters
are mixing it up close by.

Otherwise, you listen to the BBC
for the knockdown reports.

Damn strange war.

Come on, I'll drive you to town.

We keep an apartment off Grosvenor
Square for important visitors like you.

- How's the family, Blinker?
- Fine.

But they're not here.

Oh, London's one hell of a town, Pug.
It's not easy to get lonely here.

I've even got a bit of the aristocracy
feeling sorry for me.

How's this one:

Lady Maude, without her lord,
and a hell of a wine cellar,

- and a lot of friends.
- No, thanks, Blinker.

Sure, Pug. Just trying to be helpful.

- How's Rhoda?
- Fine.

The limeys will be in touch
with you next.

This is the end of the line for me,

until I can be of service to you,
one way or another.

OK, Pug, if you'll hang on, I'll get
your bags organized and pick you up.

Hello.

Hello, Pamela Tudsbury.
You're here.

Pamela!
How did you get this number?

- How did you know I was here?
- My spy in your embassy.

Your father's in Washington.
I listen to his broadcasts.

I abandoned him. I was choking on all
the bloody steaks and ice cream there.

- I've joined the WAAFs.
- That's wonderful.

And what are you doing here?

Have you ever heard
of a Major General Tillet?

Our great military expert?
Who hasn't?

Well, I'm meeting him tomorrow.
He's showing me the war.

Is he?

When he's taking you around, bear
in mind I'm with Group Operations.

- Number 11 Fighter Group.
- Will do.

We'll be coming up to London
next week, any chance of seeing you?

We?

I'm engaged.

Who's the lucky fellow?

He's called Teddy Gallard.
Fighter pilot.

His squadron gets off ops next week,
so we thought we'd come up together.

- I'll be around.
- Lovely.

Well, I'll call you then. Goodbye,
captain. So glad you're here.

Goodbye, Pamela.

Looks like the Germans
took a beating last night.

I told Hitler the range of the
Messerschmitt 109 was far too short.

He agreed,
said he'd take it up with Goering.

The thing got lost
in the Luftwaffe bureaucracy.

It's a mistake
to think dictators are all-powerful.

They're hobbled by
paper-shuffles like all politicians.

- You've met him?
- Once or twice.

I've had several sessions with him.
He's a great admirer of mine.

Or so he says.

- Do you think Hitler's crazy?
- He's a split personality.

Half the time he's a reasonable,
astute politician.

When he's beyond his depth,
he gets mystical, pompous and silly.

All in all, I rather like the fellow.
There's an odd pathos about him.

Of course, there's nothing
for it now but to finish him off.

One of our airfields back there.

Jerry did quite a job.
Caught us napping.

You're welcome
to inspect the damage,

but I'm thinking we go
straight to the Isle of Wight.

The fat boy should be over today,

so you might find
Chain Home Station interesting.

Chain Home Station?

Goering's just starting
to make sense, isn't he?

He's wasted a whole bloody month,
bombing harbors

and pottering around after convoys.
He's got till the equinox, damn fool.

The Channel's impassable
after September the 15th.

I mean,
his mission is mastery of the air.

Define your mission.
Define your mission and stick to it!

Chain Home Station.

You've come at a good time. There's
a large attack being laid on today.

Four bogeys bearing one-two-five.

Angels one-two.

Range 70.

Group of 24 bogeys.

Angels five-zero.
Now bearing one-zero-zero.

Course due west.

Quite a circus forming up there.

Well, we count 37 so far, sir.

And there's another 22
circulating over Cherbourg.

How do you get
such a clear beam?

Our radar designers
say it's impossible.

Our cavity magnetron
takes care of that.

Cavity magnetron?

Yes, it takes a bit of designing,

but your people should
work it up in due course.

That breakthrough gives you
the edge in the air war.

We vector our fighters
straight at Jerry.

No wandering about in search.
The sky's a big place otherwise.

Have you got
any cavity magnetrons for sale?

Since you ask,
why don't we pop back to London?

A couple of people there would like
to talk to you about that very subject.

Come in.

Prime minister, this is Captain
Victor Henry, Unites States Navy.

- Captain.
- Sir.

All right, major general.

We're going to win, you know.

I'm beginning to be convinced of that,
Mr. Prime Minister.

Your post is Naval attaché in Berlin.

Your president has sent you here
to take a look at my RDF.

We call it radar, sir.

He reposes confidence
in your judgment.

- What do you think of my stuff?
- The United States could use it, sir.

Well, then, I suggest that you report
to the president that we simple British

have somehow got hold
of something that he might want.

Oh, I will, sir.

Tillet has shown you the secret charts
of the alarming rise in U-boat sinkings.

So you understand our problem.

If we are to beat off invasion, we
must keep the Atlantic pipeline open.

Now, my own new construction
won't fill the gap until March,

so it is imperative
that we have those 50 old destroyers.

I understand, sir.

Unfortunately,

Mr. Roosevelt wants
a written guarantee from me,

that should the Nazis invade and win,

I will not yield the British fleet
or scuttle it,

but instead, steam to American ports.

I mean, that's a possibility I wouldn't
even consider, let alone discuss.

The Germans have had practice
in scuttling and surrendering.

We have had none.

Of course, I understand
that the giving of 50 warships to us

is not a wholly friendly act towards
the other side. There is a fear

that Hitler might declare war on you.

Oh, I don't think there's
much danger of that, sir.

There's not much hope of that, I agree.

Now, here...

...is that bad man's invasion fleet.

As you see,
the threat is real and serious.

So far, the stamina and valor
of our fighter pilots hold him at bay.

I shall, in fact, be saying
in the House of Commons tonight:

"Never in the field of human conflict,

"has so much been owed
by so many to so few."

That is magnificent, sir.

Tell your president that now is the
time to get to work on a landing craft.

We shall have to go back to France,
and we shall need a lot of these.

We shall want a real Henry Ford effort.

Oh, I assure you that we shall do it.

Bomber Command is growing
by leaps and bounds,

and we shall one day
bomb them until the rubble jumps,

and invasion administers
the coup de grâce.

But we shall need
those landing craft.

We are prepared, even now,
to raid Berlin in force,

should he dare to bomb London.

If that occurs while you're here, you
might like to go to see how it's done.

I should be honored, sir.

You don't think
that's foolhardy nonsense?

Not at all, sir.

Of course,

I don't suggest that you return
to your duty post by parachute.

It would save time, but might be
considered irregular by the Germans.

They are sticklers for form.

I suppose it's out of the question.

It would be fun, though, wouldn't it?

Captain, here we are.

Captain Henry, my fiancé,
Ted Gallard.

- How do you do?
- Sorry we're late, entirely my fault.

Operational delay.

Forgiven.

Shall we go down?

And how is Mrs. Henry, Captain?

Very well.

I mean, Natalie's extraordinary.

Good-looking, intelligent, willpower.

And ten times more organized
than I'll ever be.

- Good evening. Your drink order?
- Dry martini, please.

- Two.
- Sir?

- Orange squash.
- Orange squash, very good, sir.

Devil of an order, eh, in the Savoy?

I'm told he used to drink
like a proper sponge,

but he went on orange squash
the day we declared war.

My son is a Naval aviator.
I wish he'd go on orange squash.

It's not a bad idea.

This business up there happens fast.

Better look sharp to see
the other fellow before he sees you.

- Mr. Gallard.
- Thank you.

I have to check back with operations.
I'll only be a moment.

Well, it's just as well I didn't wait
for that Naval officer son of yours.

If you'd given me encouragement,
I might have worked on it.

And Natalie's got the other one,

so that's the end
of the available Henrys, isn't it?

Well, Ted seems like a nice boy.

Boy? He's 28.
The old man of the squadron.

Positively decrepit, captain.

Why don't you call me Pug.
Everyone else who knows me does.

Why "Pug"?

It was hung on me at the academy.
I was a freshman boxer.

You boxed? Do you still?

Too strenuous.
Tennis is my game now.

I play a fair game of tennis.

If you're here for a while,
we could have a game.

Perhaps.

How long have you known
Natalie Jastrow?

Years ago. In Paris.

She and I ran around with two chaps
who roomed together.

That's who she was visiting
at the embassy. Leslie Slote.

Right.

That's what disturbs me, Pamela.
She's too old for him.

She's much too smart for him.

Everything about it is all wrong.
Except for the fact

that they're crazy about each other.

Well, that's something.

But not everything.

Pam, there's been a change. Our
squadron's rest off ops is canceled.

- When do you leave?
- Now.

I'll drive you to Biggin Hill.

Actually, they're digging
the chaps out of various pubs

and places of lesser repute.
We'll all be going up together.

There's no reason for you two
not to go on to that Noel Coward show.

I heard it's funny.

Now's the time for me
to leave you two quietly alone.

Why? Couldn't you stand Pamela's
drunken chatter for a little while?

Don't go. Here she is, all tarted
up for the first time in weeks.

Well, I think I might bear up.

Well, we shall have a nice long stroll
through the lobby.

- Good luck to you, captain.
- Thank you.

- If you get a chance, pay us a visit.
- I'll do that.

- The spirit is very high at Biggin Hill.
- Were you there?

Yes, no question about spirit.

It's the arithmetic that's bad.

I mean, maybe the fat boy's
running low on fighter pilots too.

We are perilously low.

We don't know the situation
on the other side of the hill.

- One waits for the signal.
- The signal?

A shift to terror bombing of London.

If the fat boy does that, it means
he's quitting the battle of fighter pilots.

The bombing will be hell.

I'm not sure how
we'll stand up to that.

But meantime,
we'll have won the first round.

- Where are we?
- Oxbridge.

You wanted to look
at the 11 Group Operations Center.

Oh, yes.

One expects to meet
a white rabbit, doesn't one,

hurrying by, consulting his watch
and all that.

Nothing here that interesting,
I'm afraid.

Burne-Wilke,
here's your American visitor.

Hello there. Frightfully glad
to hear you were coming.

Nothing much happening yet,
but there will be soon.

The bad weather's drifting clear of the
Channel, and Jerry's getting airborne.

I say, those airplanes you rounded
up have proven ever so useful.

- They can't play in this league.
- They've been excellent on patrol.

They've done some smart punishing
of invasion barges.

See here, could you have produced
those planes in two days?

I was sorely tempted to take you up.

But you look like a chap
who might bring it off.

And then we'd have looked
very foolish, wouldn't we?

Smart girl, Pamela.

Says she and her father
knew you in Berlin.

Yes, that's right.

Well, this is all fairly clear, isn't it?

In theory, we dispose
of more than 500 fighter pilots.

In theory.

Just now, we're borrowing pilots
from other groups.

Even so, we're way under.
However...

Coming down the wall with white
lights, you step up in readiness,

until the red row of lamps,
detailed to raid, then enemy sighted.

Hello, here we go.
I believe Jerry's on his way.

Chain Home at Ventnor.

Several attacks forming up or orbiting.

Two of them, 40-plus. One, 60-plus.

Goering's been an abysmal donkey,
hasn't he,

not to knock out our Chain Home
stations? It’ll prove his mistake.

- He's tried. It isn't so easy.
- He should've gone on trying.

Air Vice Marshal Dowding.

He comes round when things heat
up. Likes to run the show himself.

We've got almost 200 planes engaged.

The others stand by to cover
when these land to refuel and rearm.

Of course, we're at the far stretch
for fighter pilots.

Biggin Hill has landed,
reporting three aircraft down...

These things seldom last very long.

Jerry runs dry rather fast,
and have to head back.

They keep falling into the sea
like exhausted bats.

Yes. The Luftwaffe has given
the Channel an impolite name,

equivalent to that creek you Americans
are always up without a paddle.

Yes? What's the tally?

What?

All right. Thanks.

Would you like to say
hello to Pamela?

- Very much. Well, how did it go?
- Oh, one can't stop every bomber.

I'm afraid quite a number
got through.

But still,
they lost a number of planes.

So did we.

I'll wait for you in the car, captain.

Well, you made it.

Not on the best day.

- Ted's down.
- Are you sure?

He may have parachuted,
but his plane dove into the sea.

Two of his squadron-mates
reported it shot down.

As you've said, Pamela,
they often climb out of the water

and go right back to work.

I've asked for a special pass.

I think I'll come up
to London tonight.

Would you buy me dinner?

Some flowers, sir?

Fine, thank you.

Well, thank you.

Thank you.

Marching as to war

With the cross of Jesus
Going on before...

Bless them all
Bless them all

The long and the short and the tall

Bless all the sergeants
The sourpuss ones

Bless all the corporals
And their drinking sons

'Cause we're saying goodbye
To them all

As back to the barracks
They crawl

No ice cream and cookies
For flat-footed rookies

So cheer up my lads
Bless them all

Bless them all
Bless them all

The long and the short and the tall...

I have a feeling Freddie is not unhappy
about being kicked out of Berlin.

He's having such a good time
with the girls in London,

sometimes he has to crawl to the
studio on his hands and knees.

What's the matter?

I'm behaving shockingly. I'm playing on
everyone's sympathy so I can be here.

I'm pushing them so far I'll get myself
confined to camp until further notice.

By then, you'll be gone.

I might as well make the most
of you while you're here.

- Pug.
- Oh, God. I'll get us some drinks.

Aren't you the sly one,
Reverend Henry?

She's small, but saucy.

- She's the daughter of a friend.
- Of course. Talky Tudsbury.

- Old pal of mine too.
- Exactly right. That's who she is.

Her fiancé is an RAF pilot
who is missing in action.

Just so, she might enjoy
a little consolation.

And how would you enjoy
getting knocked on your ass?

- You mean it?
- I mean it.

- How's Rhoda?
- She misses me, New York stinks,

she's bored,
and the weather is unbearably hot.

Situation normal. Good old Rhoda.

Well...

Here.

Here, Spiegelman.

- What's wrong?
- Come on, let's get out of here.

Come in.

- Cup of tea?
- Please.

I must say, I'll take your place over
Fred Fearing's madhouse any day.

That's where the fun is.

Of course, you know,
he assumes we're shacking up.

If he only knew.

I hope that's a complaint.

Would it get me anywhere if it was?

My God, here they come!

This is it!

Where on earth
are our fighter command?

Tangling with fighter escort
further south.

- Poor old London.
- If General Tillet is right,

- you've won the air war.
- Won?

According to him,
the terror bombing of London

means that Goering's given up
on the duel of the fighter commands.

This could be his last card.

It's one hell of a way to win a battle,
I'll grant you.

This is not the effect
that Goering was after.

No, we thrive on disaster.

A bit too much, actually.

Let's go down to the Thames. It
must've been the docks that caught it.

Take me away from here, please.

I want to go back to Oxbridge. I feel
like a deserter. I should be in uniform.

My God, they're coming back!

These fires are a beacon to them.

Let's get you back to your flat.
Come on.

They just can't miss
with those fires to guide them.

Well, Berlin can catch fire too,
you know.

Oxbridge, I imagine.

Screaming for their little fugitive
from duty.

Possibly inviting me
to a court-martial.

Hello?

Yes. Yes, he is.
Who's speaking?

- It seems to be for you.
- Who is it?

Wouldn't say.
Sounded important though.

- Captain Henry here.
- Henry. Jolly good.

Your friend Fearing suggested
I call you at this number.

You do recall when you paid
a visit a few weeks ago

on a portly old gentleman,

he mentioned you'd want to go on
an expedition in the works?

A trip to familiar foreign scenes.

I remember.

Well, the trip seems to be on.
Are you interested?

I say, Henry? Are you there?

- Will you be going along, general?
- Me? God, I don't know.

I'm a timid old chap, quite unsuited
for the rigors of foreign travel.

- Besides, I haven't been asked.
- Do you think I should accept?

Since you ask me,
I think you'd be ruddy insane.

- When are they going?
- I gather sometime tomorrow night.

Can I call you back?

I'm supposed to pass your answer
along within the hour.

I'll call you back real soon.

- I'm sitting here waiting. Bye, captain.
- Goodbye.

- Who was it?
- Tillet.

Pamela, the RAF
is bombing Berlin tomorrow night.

They've asked me along
as an observer.

I see.

You going to go?

I think it's an idiotic notion
and General Tillet agrees.

It comes from your prime minister.
I either accept or not.

- You want my opinion?
- That's what I'm asking.

- Decline. It's not your business.
- True.

The chances of coming back
must be... three out of five?

It's terribly unfair to your wife.

That was my first thought.

Still, your prime minister feels
there's some point in my going along.

Oh, rubbish!
Winnie's such a child about combat.

He probably wishes
he could go himself.

He imagines everyone
thinks like him.

Well, I'm supposed to call
General Tillet back pretty quick.

Hang on,
what are you going to say?

I'm going to accept.

Well, why did you ask
my opinion then?

I thought you'd voice an objection
that I hadn't thought of.

You gave the best objection yourself.
It's idiotic!

I'm not positive.
My job is intelligence.

Moreover, there's a taunt in this
and it's a hard one to duck.

You're reading too much into this.

What would your president say?
Did he send you here to risk death?

After the fact, he'd congratulate me.

What about me?

I miss Ted.

I should not be able to endure
missing you.

I'm much more attached to you
than you realize.

And I'm not at all that moral,
you know.

You have very wrong ideas
about me.

You don't understand, do you?

On the Bremen you took me for a
schoolgirl, and you've never changed.

How has your wife kept you
so innocent all these years?

I don't think I was born to be shot
down in a British bomber over Berlin.

I'll see you when I get back.

If you get back!

If.

Right, so much
for the opposition map.

Again, primary
and secondary targets,

main flak positions,
searchlight belts.

It's maximum effort tonight.

Over 100 aircraft in all from this
and other bomber command airfields

will be on the same target.

Sorry, lads,
but it's got to be 10,000 feet.

Headwinds any higher
will be too strong.

Otherwise,
weather en route will be fine.

Visibility will be good,
but unfortunately there will be a moon.

So you may have fighters.

Lights, please.

Now, Berlin will be on full alert

after all the stuff they've been dumping
on London, so work fast.

The flak will be heavy.

Keep those
photoflash bombs handy.

Get your photographs, shove the nose
down, pedal home as fast as you can.

Our American observer
will be flying in F for Freddie.

Flight Lt. Killian, meet your passenger
for tonight, Admiral Victor Henry.

One of the least prudent
officers in the United States Navy.

- Welcome aboard, Admiral Henry.
- I'm afraid that's Captain Henry.

Spot promotion for fortitude.

All I've got to say is anybody
who'd go on an op like this

when he doesn't have to
belongs in a bloody loony bin.

I'm Second Pilot Johnson,
of F for Freddie.

And what I've got here is a token
of the crew's admiration.

Well, thank you, Johnson.

But I'm already so scared
I don't think I'll be needing this.

Well, that's it, chaps.

Good luck.

- Good luck to you too.
- Thank you, sir.

Let me introduce you to the others.
This is Reynolds, our navigator.

- How do you do, sir?
- He'll do bomb aiming at the target.

- Peters, our wireless operator.
- Nice to meet you, sir.

- Carter, front gunner.
- Nice to have you, sir.

- Rear gunner, Bailey.
- How do you do?

Tail end, Charlie,
the loneliest man on the crew.

Once he's in the turret,
you won't see him till we land.

You've got a few hours.
We'll see you're fitted out and get you

- after flight planning's finished.
- Thank you.

If I may recommend these, sir.

- Three pairs of socks?
- Gets cold up there, sir.

- And you'll need this, sir.
- Parachute.

- Beautiful suit, sir.
- What's your name?

Aircraftsman Horton, sir.

Well, Aircraftsman Horton,
if I should forget to pick it up,

or something, it's all yours.

Oh, thank you, sir.

That's very fine tweed.

Jolly good night for a ride, old chap.

How do you like her, admiral? The
Wimpy's nothing but a big canvas kite.

- Canvas?
- That's right, admiral.

She's covered in canvas.
She carries a pretty good bomb load.

Conditions should be the same,
skipper. They're off to Freihausen.

F-Freddie ready for takeoff.
F-Freddie ready for takeoff.

F for Freddie, clear for takeoff.

We don't fly in formation, admiral,
so you won't see

any of the other chaps, except in
searchlights or maybe over the target.

But we won't be alone.
They'll all be out there somewhere.

Second pilot, why don't
you let the admiral sit down?

- No, that's OK.
- No, no, it's eight hours roundtrip.

Make yourself comfortable.

Keep that light down, navigator.

About three more hours to go, admiral.
Why don't you go get some shuteye?

Go ahead. Nothing much happening
until we reach the Dutch coast.

That damned convoy of ours,
the one discussed in briefing,

always where they shouldn't be.

Front gunner,
fire off recognition signal, please.

Good old navy, admiral. Shoot first,
and ask questions afterward.

Now, why don't you go on back
and get some rest.

While you're at it, admiral,
will you please wake second pilot?

Right.

OK, admiral.
Dutch coast searchlight belt.

- What happens next?
- We'll probably pick up some flak,

or maybe a fighter or two.

Hang on, admiral. Here it comes!

Last time we crossed the coast,
admiral, the flak was heavier.

That was bloody close!

- You all right, admiral?
- I can't see.

- Wireless operator!
- Hold on to me, sir.

I'll take you back to the bunk.

Searchlights, 10:00.

Here we are, admiral, Berlin!

20 degrees off, navigator.

Don't blame me, those forecast winds
at briefing were all wrong.

You should know by now. Damned
near missed Berlin altogether.

That'll do, sergeant.

Navigator to pilot, hold the course
to one-zero-five for the target area.

Pilot turning on to one-zero-five.

I'm going below, skipper.

OK, navigator.

Those poor blokes who got there
first are getting a real pasting!

It looks worse than it is, admiral. The
stuff spreads apart once you're in it.

See that fire off at 11:00, admiral?

Some of the chaps have pretty well
clobbered the primary already.

Navigator to pilot, can't see
a bloody thing for the smoke.

All right, then. Let's go
for the Spandau Gasworks.

Course for the secondary, please,
navigator.

I have the secondary in sight, skipper.
Stand by for runner.

If you want a better look,
go below with Reynolds.

Go ahead, admiral.
Help yourself to a front-row seat.

Here, I'll let you by.

Good evening, sir.

Here. Right there.

Navigator to pilot.
Open bomb doors.

Bomb doors open.

Excuse me, sir.

Bomb selected.

Here we go!

Right.

Right.

Steady, left.

Steady.

Steady.

Steady.

Close bomb doors.

Missed.

- Bull's-eye!
- Right on target.

- Jolly good show!
- Course for home, navigator.

Stay at two-seven-three, skipper.

Look at that AA!

Pilot to crew, put on parachutes. I've got
to get out of these damn searchlights!

I'll get the chutes, skipper.

Pilot to crew, we're out of it
and we seem to be under control now.

But we've lost an engine.

I haven't a clue how bad it is,
but I'm going to try a restart.

You all right down there, admiral?

I'm all right,
but your navigator is injured.

Hang on, admiral,
we'll be right there.

You're gonna be OK, Reynolds.

Don't worry, admiral,
we'll take good care of him.

- He'll be OK.
- Good.

To hell with the pictures, admiral.
We're going home to eggs and bacon.

You'll tell them
you saw that gas plant go up?

You're damn right.

How's the airplane?

Starboard engine's hit.
Still pulling, but we'll see.

Bloody asinine way
to make a living, isn't it?

I should've joined the bloody navy.

Admiral, it may be close at that.

We're having a bit of trouble
holding altitude.

How's your French?

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