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While I'm very familiar
with you and your family,

I have no way of knowing if
you are familiar with who I am.

Are you aware
of my existence?

Yes.

This is good.

Now, are you aware of the job
I've been ordered to carry out in France?

Yes.

Please tell me
what you've heard.

I've heard

that the F�hrer has put you in charge
of rounding up the Jews left in France

who are either hiding
or passing for Gentile.

The F�hrer couldn't have
said it better himself.

But the meaning
of your visit,

pleasant though it is,
is mysterious to me.

The Germans looked through my house
nine months ago for hiding Jews

and found nothing.

I'm aware of that.

I've read the reports
of this area.

But like any enterprise,
when under new management,

there is always a slight
duplication of efforts,

most of it being a complete waste of
time, but needs to be done nevertheless.

I just have a few questions,
monsieur LaPadite.

If you can assist me
with answers,

my department can close
the file on your family.

Now,

before the occupation, there were
four Jewish families in this area,

all dairy farmers
like yourself.

Doleracs, Rollins,
the Loveitts

and the Dreyfuses.

Is that correct?

To my knowledge,

those were the Jewish families
among the dairy farmers.

Herr Colonel, would it disturb
you if I smoked my pipe?

Please,
monsieur LaPadite,

this is your house,
make yourself comfortable.

Now, according
to these papers,

all the Jewish families in this
area have been accounted for

except the Dreyfuses.

Somewhere in the last year it
would appear they've vanished.

Which leads me to the conclusion that
they've either made good their escape

or someone is very
successfully hiding them.

What have you heard about the
Dreyfuses, monsieur LaPadite?

Only rumors.

I love rumors!

Facts could be
so misleading,

where rumors, true or false,
are often revealing.

So, monsieur LaPadite,

what rumors have you heard
regarding the Dreyfuses?

Again,
this is just a rumor,

but we heard the Dreyfuses
had made their way into Spain.

So, the rumors you've heard
have been of escape?

Yes.

Having never met the Dreyfuses,
would you confirm for me

the exact members of the
household and their names?

There were
five of them.

The father, Jacob.

Wife, Miram.

And her brother, Bob.

How old is Bob?

Thirty, 31.

Continue.

And the children,

Amos

and Shosanna.

Ages of the children?

Amos was nine or 10.

And Shosanna?

And Shosanna was

18 or 19.
I'm not really sure.

Well, I guess
that should do it.

However, before I go, could I have
another glass of your delicious milk?

But of course.

Monsieur LaPadite,

are you aware of the nickname the
people of France have given me?

I have no interest
in such things.

But you are aware
of what they call me.

I'm aware.

What are you aware of?

That they call you
"The Jew Hunter."

Precisely.

I understand your
trepidation in repeating it.

Heydrich apparently
hates the moniker

the good people of Prague
have bestowed on him.

Actually, why he would hate the
name "the Hangman" is baffling to me.

It would appear he has done
everything in his power to earn it.

Now I, on the other hand,
love my unofficial title

precisely because
I've earned it.

The feature that makes me such an
effective hunter of the Jews is,

as opposed to most
German soldiers,

I can think like a Jew

where they can only
think like a German.

More precisely,
a German soldier.

Now, if one were to determine what attribute
the German people share with a beast,

it would be the cunning and the
predatory instinct of a hawk.

But if one were to determine what
attributes the Jews share with a beast,

it would be
that of the rat.

The F�hrer and Goebbels' propaganda
have said pretty much the same thing.

But where our conclusions
differ,

is I don't consider
the comparison an insult.

Consider for a moment
the world a rat lives in.

It's a hostile world,
indeed.

If a rat were to scamper through
your front door, right now,

would you greet it
with hostility?

I suppose I would.

Has a rat ever done
anything to you

to create this animosity
you feel toward them?

Rats spread disease.
They bite people.

Rats were the cause of the bubonic
plague, but that's some time ago.

I propose to you any disease
a rat could spread,

a squirrel could
equally carry.

Would you agree?

Yet, I assume you don't share
the same animosity with squirrels

that you do with rats,
do you?

No.

Yet, they're both rodents,
are they not?

And except for the tail, they
even rather look alike, don't they?

It's an interesting thought,
Herr Colonel.

However interesting
as the thought may be,

it makes not one bit of
difference to how you feel.

If a rat were to walk in here,
right now, as I'm talking

would you greet it with a
saucer of your delicious milk?

Probably not.

I didn't think so.

You don't like them.

You don't really know
why you don't like them.

All you know is
you find them repulsive.

Consequently, a German
soldier conducts a search

of a house suspected
of hiding Jews.

Where does the hawk look?

He looks in the barn, he looks in
the attic, he looks in the cellar,

he looks everywhere
he would hide.

But there are so many places it
would never occur to a hawk to hide.

However, the reason the F�hrer has
brought me off my Alps in Austria

and placed me in French cow country
today is because it does occur to me.

Because I'm aware what tremendous
feats human beings are capable of

once they abandon dignity.

May I smoke my pipe
as well?

Please, Herr Colonel,
make yourself at home.

Now, my job dictates

that I must have my men
enter your home

and conduct
a thorough search

before I can officially cross
your family's name off my list.

And if there are any irregularities
to be found, rest assured they will be.

That is unless you have
something to tell me

that makes the conducting
of a search unnecessary.

I might add, also,
that any information

that makes the performance of my duty
easier will not be met with punishment.

Actually, quite the contrary.
It will be met with reward.

And that reward will be,

your family will cease
to be harassed in any way

by the German military during the
rest of our occupation of your country.

You're sheltering enemies
of the state, are you not?

Yes.

You're sheltering them underneath
your floorboards, aren't you?

Yes.

Point out to me the areas
where they're hiding.

Since I haven't heard
any disturbance,

I assume, while they're listening,
they don't speak English.

Yes.

I'm going to switch back to French now,
and I want you to follow my masquerade.

Is that clear?

Yes.

It's the girl.

Au revoir, Shosanna!

Ten-hut!

My name is
Lieutenant Aldo Raine.

And I'm putting together a special
team, and I need me eight soldiers.

Eight Jewish
American soldiers.

Now, you all might've heard rumors
about the armada happening soon.

Well, we'll be leaving
a little earlier.

We're going to be dropped into
France dressed as civilians.

Once we're
in enemy territory,

as a bushwhacking
guerrilla army,

we're going to be doing one
thing and one thing only.

Killing Nazis.

I don't know
about you all,

but I sure as hell didn't come down
from the goddamn Smoky Mountains,

cross 5, 000 miles of water,
fight my way through half of Sicily

and jump out of a fucking airplane to
teach the Nazis lessons in humanity.

Nazi ain't got no humanity.

They're the foot soldiers of a
Jew-hating, mass-murdering maniac

and they need
to be destroyed.

That's why any and every son of a
bitch we find wearing a Nazi uniform,

they're going to die.

Now, I'm the direct descendent
of the mountain man Jim Bridger.

That means I got
a little Indian in me.

And our battle plan will be
that of an Apache resistance.

We will be cruel
to the Germans.

And through our cruelty,
they will know who we are.

And they will find
the evidence of our cruelty

in the disemboweled,
dismembered

and disfigured bodies of their
brothers we leave behind us.

And the German won't be able
to help themselves

but imagine the cruelty their
brothers endured at our hands,

and our boot heels
and the edge of our knives.

And the German
will be sickened by us.

And the German
will talk about us.

And the German
will fear us.

And when the German
closes their eyes at night

and they're tortured by their
subconscious for the evil they have done,

it will be with thoughts of us
that they are tortured with.

Sound good?

Yes, sir!

That's what I like to hear.

But I got a word of warning
for all you would-be warriors.

When you join my command,
you take on debit.

A debit you owe me,
personally.

Each and every man under my
command owes me 100 Nazi scalps.

And I want my scalps.

And all y'all will get me 100 Nazi scalps
taken from the heads of 100 dead Nazis.

Or you will die trying!

Hey, Hirschberg.

Send that Kraut
sarge over.

You. Go.

Sergeant
Werner Rachtman.

Lieutenant Aldo Raine.
Pleased to meet you.

You know what
"sit down" means, Werner?

Yes.
Then sit down.

How is your English,
Werner?

Because if need be, we got a
couple of fellows who can translate.

Wicki here,

an Austrian-Jew, got the fuck out
of Munich while the getting was good.

Became American, got drafted,
come back to give y'all what for.

Another one up there
you might be familiar with.

Sergeant Hugo Stiglitz.

Heard of him?

Everybody in the German Army
has heard of Hugo Stiglitz.

The reason
for Hugo Stiglitz's celebrity

among German soldiers
is simple.

As a German-enlisted man,
he killed 13 Gestapo officers.

Instead of putting him up
against a wall,

the High Command decided
to send him back to Berlin

to be made an example of.

Needless to say, once the
Basterds heard about him,

he never got there.

Sergeant Hugo Stiglitz?

Lieutenant Aldo Raine.
These are the Basterds.

Ever heard of us?

We just want to say we're
a big fan of your work.

When it comes
to killing Nazis...

...I think you show
great talent.

And I pride myself for having
an eye for that kind of talent.

But your status as a Nazi
killer is still amateur.

We all come here to see
if you want to go pro.

Can I assume
you know who we are?

You're Aldo the Apache.

Werner,
if you heard of us,

you probably heard we ain't in
the prisoner-taking business.

We in the killing Nazi business,
and, cousin, business is a-booming.

Oh, yeah.

Now, that leaves two ways
we can play this out.

Either kill you
or let you go.

Whether or not you're going
to leave this ditch alive

depends entirely on you.

Up the road a piece,
there's an orchard.

Besides you, we know there's another
Kraut patrol fucking around here somewhere.

If that patrol were
to have any crack shots,

that orchard would be
a goddamn sniper's delight.

So if you ever want to eat
a sauerkraut sandwich again,

you got to show me on
this here map where they are.

You got to tell me how many
they are, and you got to tell me

what kind of artillery
they're carrying with them.

You can't expect me to divulge information
that would put German lives in danger.

Well, now, Werner, that's where you're
wrong, because that's exactly what I expect.

I need to know about
Germans hiding in trees.

And you need to tell me. And
you need to tell me right now.

Now, just take that
finger of yours

and point out on this here map
where this party is being held,

how many is coming and what
they brought to play with.

I respectfully refuse,
sir.

Hear that?

Yes.

That's Sergeant
Donny Donowitz.

You might know him better
by his nickname.

The Bear Jew.

Now, if you heard of Aldo the Apache,
you got to have heard about The Bear Jew.

I heard of The Bear Jew.

What did you hear?

Beats German soldiers
with a club.

He bashes their brains in with
a baseball bat, what he does.

And, Werner, I'm going to
ask you one last goddamn time,

and if you still
respectfully refuse,

I'm calling
The Bear Jew over.

He's going to take
that big bat of his,

and he's going to beat
your ass to death with it.

Now, take your
Wiener-schnitzel-licking finger,

and point out on this map
what I want to know.

Fuck you.

And your Jew dogs.

Actually, Werner, we're all
tickled to hear you say that.

Quite frankly, watching
Donny beat Nazis to death

is the closest we ever get
to going to the movies. Donny!

Yeah?

Got us a German here who
wants to die for country.

Oblige him.

Did you get that
for killing Jews?

Bravery.

Yeah!

Oh, no!
- Oh, no!

Donny!

Yeah, Donny!

About now I'd be shitting
my pants if I was you.

Teddy Fucking Williams
knocks it out of the park!

Fenway Park is on its feet
for Teddy Fucking Ballgame!

He went yard on that one,
on to fucking Lansdowne Street!

You!

Damn it,
Hirschberg!

Donny, bring that other one
over here. Alive!

Get the fuck up!
Batter up. You're on deck!

Two hits. I hit you,
you hit the ground.

English?

Wicki.

Ask him
if he wants to live.

Tell him to point out on
this map the German position.

Ask him how many Germans.

Around about 12.

What kind of artillery?

Now, when you report
what happened here,

you can't tell them you told us
what you told us. They'll shoot you.

They're going to want to know why
you so special, we let you live.

So tell them, we let you live so you
could spread the word through the ranks

what's going to happen
to every Nazi we find.

Now that you've survived the war, when
you get home, what you going to do?

He's going to hug his mother.

Well, ain't that nice?

Ask if he's going
to take off his uniform.

He's going to burn it.

Yeah, that's what we thought.
We don't like that.

See, we like our Nazis in uniforms.
That way you can spot them.

Just like that.

But you take off that uniform, ain't
nobody going to know you's a Nazi.

And that don't sit
well with us.

So I'm going to give you a little
something you can't take off.

You know, Lieutenant,
you're getting pretty good at that.

You know how you get to
Carnegie Hall, don't you?

Practice.

Au revoir, Shosanna!

At that time, 35 millimeter
nitrate film was so flammable

that you couldn't even
bring a reel onto a streetcar.

Hey, you can't bring those
here on a public vehicle.

They're films, ain't they?
- Yes.

Then they're flammable.
Go on, hop off.

Because nitrate film burns
three times faster than paper.

Shosanna has a collection

of over 350 nitrate
film prints.

Right this way, Lieutenant.

Lieutenant Archie Hicox
reporting, sir.

General Ed Fenech.
At ease, Hicox.

Drink?

If you offer me a scotch and plain water,
I could drink a scotch and plain water.

That-a-boy, Lieutenant.
Make it yourself like a good chap, will you?

The bar is in the globe.

Something for yourself,
sir?

Whiskey. Straight.
No junk in it.

It says here that
you speak German fluently.

Like a Katzenjammer Kid.

And your occupation
before the war?

I'm a film critic.

List your accomplishments.

Well, sir,
such as they are,

I write reviews and articles for a
publication called Films and Filmmakers,

and I've had
two books published.

Impressive. Don't be modest,
Lieutenant. What are their titles?

The first book
was called

Art of the Eyes, the Heart and the Mind:
A Study of German Cinema in the '20s.

And the second one was called
Twenty-Four Frame da Vinci.

It's a subtextual film criticism study
of the work of German director G.W. Pabst.

What should we
drink to, sir?

Well...

Down with Hitler.

All the way down, sir.

Yes.

Are you familiar with German
cinema under the Third Reich?

Yes. Obviously, I haven't seen any of
the films made in the last three years,

but I'm familiar with it.

Explain it to me.

Pardon, sir?

Well, this little escapade of ours requires
a knowledge of the German film industry

under the Third Reich.
Explain to me UFA under Goebbels.

Goebbels considers
the films he's making

to be the beginning of a
new era in German cinema.

An alternative
to what he considers

the Jewish-German intellectual
cinema of the '20s,

and the Jewish-controlled
dogma of Hollywood.

How's he doing?

Frightfully sorry, sir.
Once again?

You say he wants to take on
the Jews at their own game.

Well, compared to,
say, Louis B. Mayer,

how's he doing?

Quite well, actually.

Since Goebbels
has taken over,

film attendance has steadily risen
in Germany over the last eight years.

But Louis B. Mayer wouldn't be
Goebbels' proper opposite number.

I believe Goebbels sees himself
closer to David O. Selznick.

Brief him.

Lieutenant Hicox, at this point and time
I'd like to brief you on Operation Kino.

Three days from now

Joseph Goebbels is throwing a gala
premiere of one of his new movies in Paris.

What film, sir?

The motion picture is
called Nation's Pride.

In attendance at this
joyous Germatic occasion

will be Goebbels, Goring, Bormann,
and most of the German High Command

including all high ranking officers
of both the SS and the Gestapo,

as well as luminaries of the
Nazi propaganda film industry.

The master race at play?

Basically, we have all our
rotten eggs in one basket.

The objective
of Operation Kino,

blow up the basket.

And like the snows of yesteryear,
gone from this earth.

Jolly good, sir.

An American Secret Service outfit
that lives deep behind enemy lines

will be your assist.

The Germans call them
the Basterds.

The Basterds.
Never heard of them.

Whole point of the Secret Service,
old boy, you not hearing of them.

But the Jerries have heard of them,
because these Yanks have been them the devil.

You'll be dropped into France,
about 24 kilometers outside of Paris.

The Basterds
will be waiting for you.

First thing, you'll go to a
little village called Nadine.

In Nadine, there's a
tavern called La Louisiane.

There you'll rendezvous with our
double agent. She'll take it from there.

She's the one who is going
to get you into the premiere.

It'll be you, her, and two
German-born members of the Basterds.

She's also made all the other
arrangements you're going to need.

How will I know her?

I suspect that won't be
too much trouble for you.

Your contact
is Bridget von Hammersmark.

Bridget von Hammersmark?

The German movie
star is working for England?

Yes, for the last
two years now.

One could even say that
Operation Kino was her brainchild.

Indeed.

Got the gist?

I think so, sir.
Paris when it sizzles.

You didn't say the goddamn
rendezvous is in a fucking basement.

I didn't know.

You said it was
in a tavern.

It is a tavern.

Yeah, in a basement.

You know, fighting in a basement
offers a lot of difficulties.

Number one being,
you're fighting in a basement.

What if we go in there
and she's not even there?

We wait.

Don't worry. She's a British spy.
She'll make the rendezvous.

Stiglitz, right?

That's right, sir.

I hear you're pretty good
with that.

You know, we're not looking
for trouble right now.

Simply making contact with our agent.
Should be uneventful.

However, the off chance I'm wrong,
things prove eventful,

I need to know
we can all remain calm.

I don't look calm to you?

Well, now that you put it like that,
I guess you do.

This Jerry of yours, Stiglitz, not
exactly the loquacious type, is he?

Is that the kind of man you
need? Loquacious type?

Fair point, Lieutenant.

So you all get in trouble in
there, what are we supposed to do?

Make bets
on how it all comes out?

If we get into trouble,
we can handle it.

But if trouble does happen,
we need you to make damn sure

no Germans, or French, for that matter,
escape from that basement.

If Frau von Hammersmark's cover is
compromised, the mission is kaput.

Speaking of Frau von Hammersmark, whose
idea was it for the deathtrap rendezvous?

She chose the spot.

Isn't that just dandy?

Look, she's not a military strategist.
She's just an actress.

You don't got to be Stonewall Jackson to
know you don't want to fight in a basement.

She wasn't picking
a place to fight.

She was picking a place
isolated and without Germans.

Mmm.

Well, if this is it,
old boy,

I hope you don't mind if I
go out speaking the King's.

By all means,
Captain.

There's a special rung in hell reserved
for people who waste good Scotch.

Seeing as I may be rapping
on the door momentarily,

I must say,
damn good stuff, sir.

Now, about this pickle

we find ourselves in.

It would appear there's only
one thing left for you to do.

And what would that be?

Stiglitz.

Say auf Wiedersehen
to your Nazi balls.

You outside.
Who are you?

British? American?

What?

We're American.

What are you?

I'm a German, you idiot.

Speak English
pretty good for a German.

I agree.

So let's talk.

Okay, talk.

I'm a father.

My baby was born today.
In Frankfurt.

Five hours ago.

His name is Max.
We were in here drinking, celebrating.

They're the ones that came in shooting
and killing. It's not my fault!

Okay!
It wasn't your fault.

What's your name,
soldier?

Wilhelm.

Now, is there anybody alive
on our side?

No.
I'm alive!

Who's that?

Is the girl
on your side?

Which girl?

Who do you think?
Von Hammersmark.

Yeah, she's ours.

Is she okay?

Wilhelm!

She's been shot.

But she's alive.

Okay, Wilhelm.

What do you say
we make us a deal?

What's your name?

Aldo.

Okay, Wilhelm,
here's my deal.

You let me and one of my men come
down there and take the girl away.

No guns. No guns me,
no guns you.

And we take the girl and leave.
It's that simple, Willi.

You go your way,
we go ours.

And little Max gets to grow up
playing catch with his daddy.

So what do you say, Willi?
We got us a deal?

Aldo.

I'm here, Willi.

I want to trust you.

But...

But how can I?

What choice you got,
son?

Okay, okay.

Aldo,

I'm going to trust you.

Come down.

Hey, Willi, what's with the machine
gun? I thought we had us a deal?

We still have a deal.
Now, get the girl and go.

Not so fast.

We only got a deal,
we trust each other.

And a Mexican standoff
ain't trust.

You need guns on me for it
to be a Mexican standoff.

You got guns on us.
You decide to shoot, we're dead.

Up top, they got grenades.
They drop them down here, you're dead.

That's a Mexican standoff,
and that was not the deal.

No trust,
no deal.

All right, Aldo.

Fine.

Just take that fucking traitor,
and get her out of my sight.

Not so goddamn fast, doc.
Tell him to go play with his dogs.

Before we yank that slug out you,
you need to answer a few questions.

Few questions
about what?

About I got three men
dead back there.

Why don't you try telling us
what the fuck happened?

The British officer blew his German
act and the Gestapo major saw it.

Before we get into
who shot John,

why'd you invite my men to a rendezvous
in a basement with a bunch of Nazis?

I can see since you didn't
see what happened inside,

that the Nazis being there
must look odd.

Yeah, we got a word for
that kind of odd in English.

It's called suspicious.

Everybody needs
to calm down.

You're letting your imagination
get the better of you.

You met the sergeant
yourself. Willi.

You remember him,
don't you?

Yeah, I remember him.

His wife had a baby tonight.
He had just become a...

He had just become
a father!

His commanding officer gave him and
his mates the night off to celebrate.

The Germans being there was either a
trap set by me or a tragic coincidence.

It couldn't be both.

How'd the shooting start?

The Englishman
gave himself away.

How'd he do that?

He ordered three glasses.

We order three glasses.

That's the German three.

The other looks odd.

Germans would
and did notice it.

Okay, let's pretend
there were no Germans

and everything went exactly
the way it was supposed to.

What was the next step?

Tuxedos.

To get them into the premiere
wearing military uniforms

with all the military there
would've been suicide.

But going as members
of the German film industry,

they wear tuxedos and fit
in with everybody else.

I arranged for the tailor
to fit three tuxedos tonight.

How'd you intend to get them
in that premiere?

Hand me my purse.

Lieutenant Hicox
was going as my escort.

The other two were going as a
German cameraman and his assistant.

You still get us
in that premiere?

You speak German better
than your friends? No.

Have I been shot? Yes!

I don't see me tripping the light
fantastique up a red carpet anytime soon.

Least of all,
by tomorrow night.

However, there's something
you don't know.

There've been two recent
developments regarding Operation Kino.

One, the venue has been changed from
The Ritz to a much smaller venue.

Enormous change at the last minute?
That's not very Germatic.

Why the hell is Goebbels
doing stuff so damn peculiar?

It probably has something to
do with the second development.

Which is?

Der Fuhrer is attending
the premiere.

Fuck a duck!

What are you thinking?

I'm thinking getting a whack
at planting old Uncle Adolf

makes this horse
a different color.

What is that
supposed to mean?

It means you getting us
in that premiere.

I'm probably going
to end up losing this leg.

Bye-bye, acting career.
Fun while it lasted.

How do you expect me
to walk the red carpet?

Doggy doc's going to dig
that slug out your gam.

He's going to wrap it up
in a cast,

and you got a good how-l-broke-my-leg-
mountain-climbing story.

That's German, ain't it?
You all like climbing mountains, don't you?

I don't. I like smoking, drinking
and ordering in restaurants.

But I see your point.

We fill you up with morphine
till it's coming out your ears

and just limp your little
ass up that reuge carpet.

I know this is a silly
question before I ask it,

but can you Americans speak
any other language than English?

We both speak
a little Italian.

With an atrocious accent,
no doubt.

But that doesn't exactly
kill us in the crib.

Germans don't have
a good ear for Italian.

So you mumble Italian and brazen
through it. Is that the plan?

That's about it.

That sounds good.

It sounds like shit. What else
are we going to do? Go home?

No, that sounds good.

If you don't blow it, with that,
I can get you in the building.

Who does what?

Well, I speak the most
Italian, so I'll be your escort.

Donowitz speaks second most, so
he'll be your Italian cameraman.

Omar, third most.
He'll be Donny's assistant.

I don't speak Italian.

Like I said, third best. Just
keep your fucking mouth shut.

In fact, why don't you
start practicing right now?

Yes.

Gorlomi?

Gorlomi.

Gorlomi.

Antonio Margheriti.

Margheriti.

Margheriti.

Dominick Decocco.

Dominick Decocco.

What's that
American expression?

"If the shoe fits,
you must wear it."

Fucking shithead.
Faggot fuck. Fuck you!

Bunch of shithead fuck.

Fuck you, too!

Goddamn Nazi farts, sons of bitches!
Get your hands off me.

You fucking bratwurst-smelling...
Goddamn you! Get off!

Hmm.

You Jerry-banging,
Limburg-smelling...

As Stanley said
to Livingstone,

Lieutenant Aldo Raine,
I presume?

Hans Landa.

You've had
a nice long run, Aldo.

Alas, you're now
in the hands of the SS.

My hands to be exact.

And they've been waiting
a long time to touch you.

Caught you flinching.

Touch me again, Kraut-burger.

Utivich?

Is that you,
Lieutenant?

Yeah.

Do you know
what happened to Donny?

Omar?

The woman?

No, I do not.

Tell me, Aldo, if I were
sitting where you're sitting,

would you
show me mercy?

Nope.

What is that English
expression about shoes and feet?

"Looks like the shoe is on the other foot."
- Yeah, I was just thinking that.

So you're Aldo the Apache.

So you're The Jew Hunter.

I'm a detective.

A damn good detective.

Finding people
is my specialty,

so naturally, I worked for
the Nazis finding people.

And, yes, some of them were Jews.
But Jew Hunter?

Just a name that stuck.

Well, you do have to
admit, it is catchy.

Do you control the nicknames
your enemies bestow on you?

Aldo the Apache
and the Little Man?

What do you mean
the Little Man?

Germans' nickname for you.

The Germans' nickname for me
is the Little Man?

And as if to make my point, I'm a little
surprised how tall you were in real life.

I mean, you're a little fellow,
but not circus-midget little,

as your reputation
would suggest.

Where's my men?

Where's
Bridget von Hammersmark?

Well, let's just say,
she got what she deserved.

And when you purchase friends
like Bridget von Hammersmark,

you get what you pay for.

Now as far as your paesanos,
Sergeant Donowitz and Private Omar...

How you know our names?

Lieutenant Aldo,

if you don't think
I wouldn't interrogate

every single one of your
swastika-marked survivors,

we simply aren't operating on the
level of mutual respect I assumed.

No, I guess not.

Well, back to the whereabouts
of your two Italian saboteurs.

As of this moment,

both Omar and Donowitz should be sitting
in the very seats we left them in.

Double-zero 23 and
double-zero 24, if my memory serves.

Explosives still around their
ankles, still ready to explode.

And your mission, some
would call a terrorist plot,

as of this moment,
is still a go.

That's a pretty exciting story.
What's next? Eliza on Ice?

However,

all I have to do is pick up
this phone right here,

inform the cinema,
and your plan is kaput.

If they're still here, and if they're
still alive, and that's one big if,

there ain't no way you're
going to take them boys

without setting off
them bombs.

I have no doubt.

And, yes, some Germans will die.
Yes, it will ruin the evening.

And, yes, Goebbels will be
very, very, very mad at you

for what you've done
to his big night.

But you won't get Hitler,
you won't get Goebbels,

you won't get Goring,
and you won't get Bormann.

And you need all four
to end the war.

But if I don't pick up
this phone right here,

you may very well
get all four.

And if you get all four,
you end the war

tonight.

So, gentlemen,

let's discuss the prospect
of ending the war tonight.

So, the way I see it,

since Hitler's death or possible
rescue rests solely on my reaction,

if I do nothing,

it's as if I'm causing his
death even more than yourselves.

Wouldn't you agree?

I guess so.

How about you,
Utivich?

I guess so, too.

Gentlemen,
I have no intention

of killing Hitler and killing Goebbels
and killing Goring and killing Bormann,

not to mention winning the war
single-handedly for the Allies,

only later to find myself
standing before a Jewish tribunal.

If you want to win
the war tonight,

we have to make a deal.

What kind of deal?

The kind you wouldn't
have the authority to make.

However, I'm sure this mission
of yours has a commanding officer.

A general.

I'm betting for...

OSS would be my guess.

That's a bingo!

Is that the way you say it?
"That's a bingo."

You just say, "Bingo."

Bingo! How fun.

But I digress. Where were we?
Yeah! Make a deal.

Over there is a very capable
two-way radio and sitting behind it

is a more than capable
radio operator named Hermann.

Get me someone on the
other end of that radio

with the power of the pen
to authorize my,

let's call it, the terms
of my conditional surrender.

If that tastes better
going down.

You know,
where I'm from...

Yeah?
Where is that exactly?

Maynardville,
Tennessee.

I've done my share
of bootlegging.

Up there, if you engage in what the
federal government calls illegal activity,

but what we call just a man trying
to make a living for his family

selling moonshine liquor, it
behooves oneself to keep his wits.

Long story short, we hear
a story too good to be true,

it ain't.

Sitting in your chair,
I would probably say the same thing,

and 999. 999 times out of a million,
you would be correct.

But in the pages of history,
every once in a while,

fate reaches out
and extends its hand.

What shall
the history books read?

I implore you.
We must destroy that tower.

Sarge, that tower...

The tower stands!

Psst! Psst!

So when the military
history of this night is written,

it will be recorded that I
was part of Operation Kino

from the very beginning
as a double agent.

Anything I've done in
my guise as an SS Colonel

was sanctioned by the OSS
as a necessary evil

to establish my cover
with the Germans.

And it was my placement of
Lieutenant Raine's dynamite

in Hitler and Goebbels' opera
box that assured their demise.

By the way, that last
part is actually true.

I want my full military pension
and benefits under my proper rank.

I want to receive the
Congressional Medal of Honor

for my invaluable assistance in
the toppling of the Third Reich.

In fact, I want all the
members of Operation Kino

to receive the
Congressional Medal of Honor.

Full citizenship for myself.
Well, that goes without saying.

And I would like
the United States of America

to purchase property for me
on Nantucket Island

as a reward for all the
countless lives I've saved

by bringing the tyranny of
the National Socialist Party

to a swifter-than-imagined end.
Do you have all that, sir?

I look forward to seeing you
face to face as well, sir.

Lieutenant Raine?
Right here.

Yes, sir.

Colonel Landa will put you and
Private Utivich in a truck as prisoners.

Then he and his radio operator will
get in the truck and drive to our lines.

Upon crossing our lines, Colonel Landa
and his man will surrender to you.

You will then take over
driving of the truck

and bring them straight to me for
debriefing. Is that clear, Lieutenant?

Yes, sir.

Over and out.

When I kill that guy, you got
30 feet to get to that guard.

Can you do it?
I have to.

Champagne?

Who wants to send
a message to Germany?

I have a message
for Germany.

That you are
all going to die.

And I want you to look deep into the
face of the Jew who's going to do it!

Marcel, burn it down.

Oui, Shosanna.

My name
is Shosanna Dreyfus,

and this is the face

of Jewish vengeance.

Hermann,
uncuff them.

I'm officially surrendering myself
over to you, Lieutenant Raine.

We're your prisoners.

How about my knife?

Thank you very much,
Colonel.

Utivich, cuff the Colonel's
hands behind his back.

Is that really
necessary?

I'm a slave
to appearances.

Scalp Hermann.

Are you mad?

What have you done?

I made a deal with your
general for that man's life!

Yeah, they made that deal. But they don't
give a fuck about him. They need you.

You'll be shot for this!

Nah, I don't think so. More like
chewed out. I've been chewed out before.

You know, Utivich and myself heard
that deal you made with the brass.

End the war tonight?

I'd make that deal.

How about you, Utivich?
You make that deal?

I'd make that deal.

I don't blame you.
Damn good deal.

And that pretty little nest
you feathered for yourself.

Well, if you're willing to
barbecue the whole High Command,

I suppose that's worth
certain considerations.

But I do have
one question.

When you get to your little
place on Nantucket Island,

I imagine you are going to take off that
handsome-looking SS uniform of yours.

Ain't you?

That's what I thought.

Now, that I can't abide.

How about you, Utivich,
can you abide it?

Not one damn bit, sir.

I mean,
if I had my way,

you'd wear that goddamn uniform for
the rest of your pecker-sucking life.

But I'm aware
that ain't practical.

I mean, at some point,
you're going to have to take it off.

So,

I'm going to give you a little
something you can't take off.

You know something,
Utivich?

I think this just might be
my masterpiece.

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