Original subtitles

-==OpenSubtitles.org==- ?

Resync/Corrections/Conversion by Chuck

(NEWSREADER): For Allied forces in the Gulf,

the preparation is over. The real battle? Only days away.

This relentless activity is a reminder that if final-hour diplomacy stumbles,

then action against Iraq will be both certain and uncompromising.

Saddam Hussein says it will be "The Mother of all Battles."

President Bush demanded that the conflict must be swift and decisive.

This will not be another Vietnam.

This will not be a protracted, drawn-out war.

(NEWSREADER): Israel retained the right to defend itself

and would retaliate if Iraq took any offensive action.

A Defence spokesman said Israeli jets could be over Iraqi territory

within 20 minutes.

The UN Secretary-General said,

only God knows if there would be peace or war.

When I walk out of here, I want quiet!

- Fags, factor 20, bacon sandwich. - Ta.

It's mine, it's mine, it's mine! X4

That goes for you too! (The dog)

- Hello? - Ordered to camp.

Yeah I'll be right down.

- This is for Kate's birthday. - Yeah?

"Dearest Kate. I'm truly sorry I can't be with you on your birthday."

Shit. Four years old. I've missed every one of them.

♪ Wow! Allah!

♪Darling, you've got to let me know

♪ Should I stay or should I go

- Here you go. -There you go. - See you soon.

Give me a hug.

You take care of Mummy, OK?

One more.

What is it?

Power of attorney, remember?

House-buying?

You still haven't exchanged contracts yet.

You could always get that dog you were talking about.

Piss off, Andy.

See you when I see you.

- New boots? - Aye. Gucci.

Very chic.

Image is very important, especially when you're dealing with rag-heads.

Yeah. Watch your step, Chris.

♪ Should I stay or should I go now

♪ If I go there will be trouble

If anyone touches you while I'm away,

I'll knot their bollocks so tight, they'll be pissing out their ears.

Hey, where's Tony?

Shit!

Bring my Bergen, will you, mate?

♪ Should I stay or should I go now

♪ Should I stay or should I go now

♪ If I go there will be trouble

Hello, mate!

All right, mate?

Mate! Easy! Wah!

(LAUGHTER)

- Room for a midget? - NO!

- Where's his gear? - Stan's got it.

- How do I look? - ♪ Should I stay or should I go now?

(McNab Voice-Over): Every soldier hopes for a major war in his lifetime.

This one was mine.

1080p x264 By Chuck

(NEWSREADER): The Scud missiles' launch platforms

will make them too difficult to locate and attack, let alone destroy.

The attack on Tel Aviv

has not, so far, resulted in any response from Israel

It's not yet been confirmed, but it looks like all our tasking's changed

and it'll be against Scuds since Israel has been taking hits.

A lot of pissed-off people in Tel Aviv.

- How long have we got? - Three days, who knows?

Plenty of time.

Eat over there, shit over there, sleep wherever you can find a space.

The MO's along the end of the track, so don't forget to get your jabs.

- We got jack shit. - Hey Chris, this'll do.

- Hi, Ray. - Oh, great, I've got the Kiwi have I?

- What the hell is this? - Lego!

Breeze Block.

Very thoughtful of you Mark. Just what we needed.

Ha!

Watch it! Jesus!

Sid's got a brew-up.

Right lads, listen in.

- I know this is a pain in the arse... - Hey lads, over here.

But this is your nuclear, biological and chemical protection suit and bits.

Just think of it as a large condom with legs.

- What have we got here? - Blankets, beds, Coke,

and most importantly of all, soft toilet roll

- What have we swapped all this for? - 24 Hour rationer.

- Ours? -No, D Squadron's.

- Ha! - He-he-he-he!

(BELCHES)

(RADIO PLAYS SPORTS NEWS)

- Did you see the doc? - Yeah.

- Jabs? - No. I did get some morphine, though.

There's two apiece.

Seven across: "Turncoats for the opera". Five letters.

It's a crossword clue.

That night we had our first attack.

- What's the score on the jabs, mate? - Stan says: "No jabs".

I asked them if these suits worked? He said: "Whatever turns you on."

Don't fart in it, it's fatal!

Can you get two into one suit?

- For what, mate? - Fun. You feel lonely in here.

Looks like TV to me.

What are you thinking?

Seven across: "Turncoats for the opera".

Andy!

Warning order. Eight-man patrol You command, Ray will be 2 I/c.

You will be cutting a communications line.

No move for three days. Briefing at 0800 tomorrow.

Okay, boss.

It's not too clever staying up here, chaps.

I don't want to lose you in some bone incident.

- Did Greg talk to you? - Yeah.

You OK about it?

I'm finished with it, and it's me last job.

Mind you, you cock-up, I'll be down on you like a ton o' shite.

- Ha-ha! -Huh-huh..

Nobody up, don't worry...

(Chuckles)

OK, let's get on with it. As you know, your task is against Scud.

Ground: Northwest of Baghdad.

Your area of concern will be this northern main supply route.

Situation: the Scuds landing in Israel are causing the alliance major problems.

Two nights ago, the Israeli air force was in the air

waiting to attack targets inside Iraq.

If Israel joins in the war,

the alliance with the Arab states will crumble,

which, of course, is what Iraq wants.

But if the Scud attacks on Israel don't stop within two weeks,

Israel will join the war. We're not concerned about the fixed silos.

Air strikes are taking care of those.

The mobile launchers are a different matter.

They're almost impossible to locate, but they have one weakness:

To program me in their targets, they need assistance from Baghdad.

This information is fed through fibre-optic cables

buried along the MSRs between Baghdad and the border towns.

Cut those cables and they can't fly.

Mission in two parts:

One, locate and destroy the fibre- optic cable along the northern MSR;

two, destroy mobile Scud.

Repeat: One, locate and destroy the fibre-optic cable

Which runs along the northern MSR;

two, destroy mobile Scud. Any questions?

This terrain's crap!

It's like a billiard table.

How the hell are we going to find a hide in that?

- Maps? - One in a million.

Air navigation, otherwise jack shit.

- If better turn-up in time, they're yours. - Shit.

Wind your neck in, Chris. This is what it's all about, mate.

Getting on with what you've got.

- So how are we getting in? - There's no point taking vehicles.

We'll just stick out like a bulldog's bollocks.

Yeah. Looks like a heli drop-off.

Better give Harry and his crew a warning order Bert.

If we're going to find the fibre optic.

We're going to have to take the MSR at its narrowest.

It'll be narrowest at a bend. Everyone cuts corners, what about here?

Shouldn't be any military activity whatsoever.

Just be aware of the airfield in the southwest.

No population. Looks good to me.

- Weather? - Much like a spring day in the UK.

These cables, are they above ground, buried in pipes, or what?

Don't know yet. We're still waiting for more intelligence.

Will we need to use plastic explosives,

or do we give them a tap with a hammer?

There's a boy in D Squadron used to lay fibre optics for some telecom company.

I'll see if he knows the score.

Once we cut the lines, someone will renew them.

Exactly. If you can take them out, it will slow down the repair time.

- Great. - We'll be operating here,

around 178K from the Syrian border.

It's more than twice that far to Saudi. We'll infill by heli.

Our drop-off point being around 20K south of the MSR.

From there, move north to the MSR

and find a hide in the area of this bend.

Once in position, find a cable

and place the charges on staggered timings along a 3-4K length.

If we get into any shit, we call AWACS on the TACBEs.

Get some air support while we wait for the heli pick-up.

If that doesn't happen, tab to Syria.

OK.

- What do you want TACBEs for? - To order pizza. I need eight.

Eight? You work in pairs, don't you?

- OK, four. - Four TACBEs.

They're to call in air support, you understand?

- Yeah. - They're not for any other purpose.

- Right. What's this? - That is a shiny thing.

- Well I want one. - But you don't even know what it does, do ya?

- What's this? -203 bombs.

- Where are they going? - Under your bed.

Why's that?

'Cause you're the only one who can wank, without wiggling your arse!

- What's that? - This, is a shiny thing.

And I love it.

These are for the claymores.

You got the hoice of "Chocolate Chip" or "Raspberry Ripple." (!)

Did you find that peened throw? (Hardened Metal)

The holy standard packer mate.

Just need some more nuts and bolts. All we need are the Dets.

Yeah got it mate.

Now Mark why don't you put the Dets. in, and go test them somewhere far away.

Shove it mate.

As much link as we can carry for the Minimis and 5.56 for the 203s.

What's your score with the 203 bombs and claymores?

Are you out of your skulls?

The Regiment hasn't been together since World War II.

We're not scaled up for this. We're skint.

- Whose is all this? - It's A and D Squadrons'.

We're operational in three days.

So are they. You don't even have a job, yet.

What's the sodding point, in bringing us out if you haven't got any kit?

Ray, find some claymores and 203 bombs,

and take Chris with you.

Cyril, you're gonna have to have a word with the other squadrons.

- See if you can get some gear, mate. - Ha!

"Dearest Jilly. If you're reading this, I'm dead."

"Don't mope around. Get the insurance money and have a good time."

"PS Don't forget 500 pounds is for the next squadron piss-up."

"PPS I love you."

- Are those the TACBEs? - Yeah. There's only one between two.

- Have you tested the 319? - No, I'll test it tomorrow, when it's time for the chords.

We've got our call sign - Bravo Two Zero.

Sounds good to me. I like the easy-to-remember ones.

Doesn't get any easier, does it?

No.

- What's that shiny thing by the way? - It's a SatNav.

Put it on the list, mate. Mark can have it.

Yeah.

Well seeing as you've got no brew left, I'm off.

"Dearest Kate. My dearest, dearest shiny thing."

"This is a letter I've never wanted to write."

"Or you to read."

Here we check-zeroed the Minimis and 203s.

Weapons are just a tool

So long as they go bang and hit what you're aiming at, that'll do.

- Nice to have known you, wankers. - And you, dickheads.

The kit's divided equally, so if anything goes wrong,

any two of us can carry out the task with some success.

We only took the essentials, but even that added up to 209lbs each,

the weight of a 15 stone man.

- How does it feel? - Bloody hell!

How far have we got to tab with this?

Right, gents. Listen up.

Sort out your kit and bag it up.

Next of kin, one bag. Squadron, another.

Remember to label which is which.

Don't want mummy n' daddy knowing their little boy wears stockings and suspenders

every chance he gets, do we?

Last Supper's around six.

We might be getting some fresh in, especially for you.

Why don't we stuff them all in bin-liners and take them with us?

We're not a bunch of new age travelers.

It's always a question of style with you Chris, innit?

- You are what you wear. - And what you carry.

Everything goes into the bergens except for the NBC kit,

which, in deference to Chris, we will carry in these designer sandbags.

Right, anything we've forgotten?

Aye. Cover story. There's a high chance of dipping out on this one.

The obvious one is pilot rescue.

We're a search team looking for downed pilots,

- and our own heli went down. - Sounds good.

- You want a piccie? - Yeah, might as well!

Watch it, watch it.

- You got the shiny thing. - No, Chris. Leave that.

Let the loadies do that, the lazy bastards.

Nevertheless I'm going for a piss.

For my parents, for Jilly, for Kate when she's 15, and one for you.

Tossers!

What does mine say?

It says: "Cock this up wanker, and I'll come back and haunt you."

- No, but seriously Andy. If anything goes wrong.

Yeah?

Can I have your sailboard?

- Yeah, if you do one thing for me. - Aye.

- Pay off the mortgage on my house. - Right-oh.

- Andy. - Oi, clever bollocks.

- Introduce yourself. - Name and proof-of-life statement.

We need to know you're alive if we have to give a ransom away.

Andy McNab, 31. If I win, I'd like to travel and work with children.

Thank you. Stan.

Stan Rigby, Otherwise known as "Doctor Sex".

Oyyy!

Statement: "Chaucer died on October 25th, 1400."

Tony Benati. Swiss-Italian. Ex-Royal Marine.

- Hobbies: Tall women. - Statement?

Statement? "That's another fine mess you've gotten me into!"

- Mark Warner, mate. - Mate!

Kiwi. Australian SAS. Statement:

"I'm five foot six, and that's official!"

And I'm shy!

Dinger.

Ex-para. Chain-smoker.

Statement: "My God, my Country, my Harley Davidson."

- Not necessarily in that order. - You wanker.

Baz Lane. Ex-para like Dinger, only better looking. -Bollocks!

Statement: "I will give up smoking next year."

This year! Shit.

Chris. Statement: "I have an XR4i and the colour is green."

Tony, mail I'll stick it in your kit when you're done.

- You've forgotten Ray. - Brilliant! My poll tax demand.

- Ray! - Ray Davies. From Reader's Digest:

"Congratulations, you've been selected from many in your area

for a free entry into our special prize draw."

That's shit, that is.

- Is that your statement? - Yes.

- You all set? - Yeah.

Since yesterday, more Roland missiles are en route,

so we'll be going down a bit lower, to about 80 feet, to avoid them.

OK. Let's go through those contact drills again, Harry.

All right, then. Contact on landing. We'll break and drop you 40Ks west.

Contact on departure. Get me on the TACBE and I'll come back,

and give you one minute.

And I want plenty of covering fire on the approach, OK?

OK.

If the shit hits the fan and we go down...

Whatever way you go, we'll go the other.

Nothing personal, it's just that to the Iraqis we're simply aircrew,

whereas you guys are Friday the 13th.

- Harold, we've got our slot. - All right, let's get to work.

- Go well? - Well?

They've stolen half of D Squadron's kit,

and there's a complaint from the Americans,

but for a three day turnaround, it's not bad.

120, 80 feet, 90 knots.

Roger that, 80 feet, 90 knots.

- Re-entrant left, four miles. - Roger that. Re-entrant left.

Building left. Lights have just come on.

Roger that. Lights on.

Andy tell your crew we're now over the border.

OK.

- We're over the border. - We're over the border!

- Clear lines. - We're over the border.

- Body armour? - Sit on it, mate.

- Protect your bollocks. - You ain't got any, mate.

I went over every detail of the job.

I was worried by the lack of intelligence and kit.

No recent satellite pics, no decent maps.

But these things happen. You get on with what you've got.

At least we were well armed. I was conscious too

about the high proportion of green sweets.

I needed to swap them for red ones at the first opportunity.

(BEEPING SOUND) Lock on!

- Lock on! - Shit!

- Breaking left. - Break left.

Fine.

Chaffing.

70, 60 feet.

- 50 feet. - 50 feet. Roger.

Bollocks to it. If this is going to happen, I don't want to hear it.

- Deploy. - Should be there.

Got it, breaking right. Breaking right.

Was that a Roland?

It's all right for you. We have to come back this way.

Two minutes to landing.

Two minutes! Two minutes!

Ready!?

12 feet, 10 feet!

Eight feet!

Six feet!

Four feet!

That's it. Go, go, go!

Four gone, five gone, six gone.

30's going!

Approximately 15 seconds.

Seven gone.

Andy doing final sweep.

Eight gone. All clear. Let's go, go, go!

(EXPLOSIONS IN THE BACKGROUND)

What the hell is that doing here?

(DOGS BARKING)

Where are the dogs?

There's a plantation over there, about half a K.

- It wasn't on the map. - No.

What the f...?

Scud.

Get a fix on those positions. Chris!

Get the rest of them in.

It was over a two - hour hike to the MSR, the main supply route.

The danger of finding a hide - out in pitch black

is that at first light you could find yourself in a housing estate.

The MSR wasn't a road like the M1, but a white strip of sun baked sand.

I saw the junction boxes straight away.

That gave us the land line.

But we had a problem.

Give us a hand, mate. It's going to be a squirty one.

There's a battery of S60s right on our doorstep.

- We're gonna have to move. - Now?

No, we'll wait till dark. Good news is I've located a land line.

(LOUD FART)

- Any joy, Baz? - No.

No problem. Lost comms plan comes into effect as of noon.

The heli will meet us tonight with a new one.

Do we have to hump all this stuff back to the Rv?

No, we'll go. Ray and his lot can stay here.

Did you say you've seen a land line?

Yeah. Stan, you can take the next stag.

Hello AWACS this is Bravo Two Zero...

We are a ground call sign, over.

From now on, we each carry our own shit.(!)

Sounds like a thought for today.

This is Bravo Two Zero. We are a ground call sign, over.

So why don't we cut it as soon as it gets dark and then piss off?

Without a radio we're in the shit mate. This is going to take a few days.

Let's Rv with the heli, get a new one. Then we'll crack on.

This is Bravo Two Zero. We are a ground call sign, over.

This is Bravo Two Zero. We are a ground call sign, over.

No luck?

I'm sending OK, but I don't know if they're getting it.

We might have a bum frequency.

Meaning what?

Well if they give us a new radio tonight,

it still wouldn't work.

It's noon.

Lost comms plan comes into effect now at the base.

So do we go for the Rv tonight or what?

We go for the Rv.

Mm.

(BELLS TINKLING)

Hello, governor.

It had to be Ray. If it had been anyone else, Tony or Stan,

they might have talked the kid down.

His own kids might love him, but he'd never get a job playing Santa Claus.

Lovely piece of choccie, yeah. Look at that, look at that.

From the old country. Here you are, here.

Come on. Shit!

Why didn't we shoot him?

One, that's a definite compromise. Two, if their boys get hold of us,

we're not going to last five minutes. Three, we're not into that, anyway.

- What's going on? - He's legging it to the MSR.

There's a truck full of jundies bang in the middle.

OK Baz, get on the guard net, tell them in plain speech.

We have a compromise.

We're going to head for the Rv. Stan, get back on stag mate.

Hello, Zero. This is Bravo Two Zero. Radio check, over.

Hello, Zero. Hello, Zero. This is Bravo Two Zero.

Radio check, over.

Hey, Dinger?

- Is there an apostrophe in "we're"? - As in what?

- As in "we're in the shit". - Oh, yes.

Hello, Zero. Hello, Zero. This is Bravo Two Zero.

Radio check, over.

Listen in! We're going to follow the dead ground south to the Rv.

If we make good distance now,

we'll have the cover of darkness for the rest.

Leave all the shit here. Just take your bergens.

- Suppose a quick brew is out of the question?

- Signals kit?

Top of my Bergen. Code's in my map pocket.

- Medic kit? - Top of my Bergen.

- OK. Who's got the shiny thing? - I've got it.

(Sound of Vehicles) Bollocks, what's that?

- Armour. - Stand to! Come on! Stand to!

- Coming in. - Man coming in!

It's a bulldozer. I think he's lost mate.

Lost?

Lost? A sodding bulldozer lost?

- Which way is he headed? - Over there, mate.

OK, we wait it out till he's gone.

Fucking hell!

Well let's get on with it.

- Go west, young man, go west. - Let's make like rag-heads.

(BOY SHOUTING AT MEN)

(MEN LAUGH AT BOY)

- Well? - The soldiers just told him to piss off.

He's now heading for the guns.

We should have a union, these hours are scandalous(!)

Yeah. The food's shit, too.

We had to make the RV with the heli.

At least if we had a contact on the plains,

we wouldn't be sitting targets.

(BOY SHOUTING)

(DIALOGUE IN ARABIC)

(MAN SHOUTING IN ARABIC)

(RUMBLING NOISE)

- Stand to! Stand to! - Stand to!

Of course you're afraid. Anyone who says they're not

is either lying or needs to see a shrink.

You want to make a big hole to hide in.

You'd get your spoon out and dig if it would help.

Then the training takes over. You psyche yourself up,

check all your pouches are closed, your pockets done-up,

and your magazines are on tight.

Come on, come on.

What's happening? What's happening behind me, Tony?

I need to know! Talk to me, mate!

I can't see jack shit, but I can hear them to your half-right!

- We've got to go! - Ready!

- Ready! - Ready!

Ready! Ray, you ready?

Shit!

We're going to go for it. Stand your ground!

- Stand your ground! - Stand your ground!

Stoppage!

- Chris, stand by! - Aye!

You've got to move forward, and take the fight to them.

It's the last thing they're expecting.

You're dead anyway, so anything you do is a bonus.

Coming through!

- Coming through! - Coming through!

Stoppage!

Coming through!

Stoppage! Bastards!

- Coming through! - Coming through!

- Gunner! - Coming through!

Coming through!

Shit!

Here, here.

Coming through! Coming through! Coming through!

Down!

Left!

Aargh!

Oh, God!

Fucking outrageous!

Now what?

Right! We're going to pick up our bergens.

We're going to head west. We've got an hour till last light.

We wait till it gets dark and sort our shit out.

- Pass it on. - Back to the bergens.

- Across the MSR? - Across the MSR.

Once it gets dark, we double back.

Back to the bergens!

For the next hour, we fought a running battle with the jundies

as they pursued us across the plain.

Good here, ain't it(!)

Argh!

- Man down! Man down! - Man down! Man down!

You all right, mate? Yeah? Come on.

Let's go. Let's go!

Shit!

- Present off the wife. - Where's the bloody medic kit?

The bergens were binned.

We couldn't move quickly enough with them.

Our belt kits carried what we couldn't do without - water and ammo.

We could hear contacts in the distance.

Whoever they were firing at, it wasn't us.

On me! On me!

To your right, to your right! On me!

Five, six.

Seven.

Did anybody see Stan go down?

No mate.

OK three minutes, then we go back for him.

Go right! Go right!

- You OK? - Christ!

I'm dehydrating. I'm still wearing my thermals.

- Mark, give us a fix, mate. - OK, mate.

Tony.

- Shit, it's a green one. - Give it here. I'll have it.

You're a doctor. Aren't you going to ask me?

- What? - How my herpes is getting on.

Baz. You've got the radio, mate?

No, it was shot to shit. We've still got the TACBE, though.

- Yes! - Let's call in the AWACS

and get shot of this nonsense.

- Chris, you got the medic kit? - No, but I saved my flask.

Oh, great(!) One of us takes a round, we'll be glad to have a quick nib.

- You OK? - Yeah, my leg's buggered.

I must've hurt it on a hill. It's not broken.

You want me to have a look at it mate?

No, if I keep moving it'll be OK.

Take a look at it, Stan.

Shit.

- No. - Shit.

- Baz, get on the TACBE. - Yeah.

Yeah, let's get in some air support.

Hello, AWACS. This is Bravo Two Zero.

We are a ground call sign, over.

- No link. - Yeah.

Hello, AWACS. This is Bravo Two Zero.

We are a ground call sign, over.

Christ, is it my imagination or is it getting cold?

Hello, AWACS. This is Bravo Two Zero.

We are a ground call sign. I have a fix for you, over.

Oh, shit!

Hello, any call sign. This is Bravo Two Zero.

We are a ground call sign and need assistance, over.

OK. Options.

We either go for the heli Rv or we head for Syria.

- How far is the border? - At line of sight, about 170Ks mate.

- It's a hell of a long tab. - Don't worry about it, mate.

On the other hand, between us and the heli

there's a lot of pissed-off people.

Even if we make the heli Rv, doesn't mean Harry will

If there's one set of guns, there'll be more. Many more.

- So it's the border. - Yeah. -Yeah. -Yeah.

- Yeah. - Are you up to it?

OK. Chris, you go lead scout.

Then Stan and Ray. I'll back them. Then the rest of you.

OK, let's go!

- Here, stick that on your head. - Cheers.

We'd left the contact well behind and were looking good.

Then the weather changed. "Spring day in the UK"; my arse.

It was the worst this region had experienced in 30 years.

Aircraft. We're going to stop and try the TACBE.

We're going to try the TACBE. We're going to try the TACBE.

Get me a fix, Mark.

Hello, any call sign. This is Bravo Two Zero.

We're a ground call sign, and we're in the shit, over.

Hello, any call sign. This is Bravo Two Zero.

We're a ground call sign and we're in the shit, over.

(RADIO): Say again, Bravo Two Zero. You're weak.

Turn back north, turn back north, over.

Hello, any call sign. This is Bravo Two Zero, over.

No joy!

- Where's Ray? - And Stan and Chris?

Where are they?

I told them to stop.

We tabbed all night but never found Ray or the others.

I knew he was in a shit state.

and I should have checked that he passed the message on.

I should have checked.

That night we did 85K. That's two marathons.

The only cover we could find stood out like a dog's bollocks.

This meant we'd leave sign the moment we moved off,

but this was the least of our worries. Mark was down with hypothermia.

Yeah, hypothermia in the desert.

Listen, mate. You're not as cold as your body wants you to think.

- I'm not? - No.

And what's more...

...you're showing none of the symptoms of hypothermia.

That's good, mate.

Tell me, am I hallucinating or is this snow?

Bollocks to it. I'm going to make a brew.

Not only are we freezing to death,

you've now decided to put a sign out saying: Here we are, come get us.

What is it? Coffee or hot chocolate?

(IN ARABIC)

(IN ARABIC)

OK, mate. Drink up.

You made it through last night. You ain't going to fall down on me now.

Are you still thinking about Ray and his crew?

- Yeah. - Well don't.

They're big and ugly enough to sort themselves out.

Oh, shit!

Another bleeding shepherd! And he's pinged us.

Looks like he's desperate for company.

- I don't believe it! - Where do they all come from?

- Tony, you better go talk to him. - My Arabic is shit.

Well you've got about three 'n 1/2 minutes to become really fluent.

(IN ARABIC)

- English? - Yeah. Tony.

Is me, is me, is me Mohammed.

What's he saying, mate?

(IN ARABIC)

Where is the market?

He's asking the way to Sainsbury's?

Oh, fucking outrageous!

Still 70Ks to the border and we needed to make it by first light,

because if the Iraqis didn't kill us, the weather was going to.

Make sure it's got a heater and a radio.

- Anything else? - Yeah. Power steering,

electric windows, ABS, CD player, mobile phone.

Shut up, will you?

I don't believe this!

- Get out! - Please!

We've been looking at the things all day.

- Get out! - Don't shoot! Please! Don't shoot!

Please! Please!

Please! No shoot, no kill!

Please! Please, no shoot!

- Shut up! - Move!

Please don't hurt my father. We're Christian. You see?

See?

Him Muslim!

(Prays to Allah)

Fuck off, mate!

Chain-smoker : Cigarettes!

Cigarettes! Here, I give you cigarettes!

Here!

What's his fucking problem?

You are stealing his taxi. It's his living.

I've had enough of this!

Move! Get down in that bloody ditch! Move! Move!

- Please don't shoot OK! OK! - Down, down, down!

It's going to be a tight fit, ain't it?

- What did you do with them? - They'll live.

Pissed-off, but they'll live.

- Anybody know how to put these in forward? - No.

No, down.

No, up.

Baz, give me some direction when we come to the junctions mate.

- Point me west. - How many Ks to the border?

- About 35, mate. - We'll drive as far as we can.

We'll dump it and cross on foot.

You see? Why didn't you lift something like that mate?

Mark, shut up. You were dying of hypothermia an hour ago.

Bollocks, mate!

(TRADITIONAL ARABIC MUSIC)

♪ My husband has breath like a dog

♪ His penis is small and covered with blackheads

♪ Nowadays I sleep with the goats

♪ They have much bigger penises

♪ And are twice as intelligent...

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-haa!!

Anybody get that sign?

"Baghdad welcomes careful drivers."

But...

Did you know that Saddam Hussein is an anagram

of He's a sad nudist?

- Where did the "m" go? - I swapped it for a "t ."

- You can't do that. - Well I just did.

That's not right.

What's the score?

Looks like some sort of checkpoint.

- How far to the border, Mark? - Still waiting, mate.

Well do we stay or do we go?

We're going to go for that ridge on the left. OK?

It's about 11K, mate. 11K to the border.

- As soon as he pings us. - We'll take the other two.

Stand by.

Stand by.

Go, go, go!

Go! Come on!

OK, Mark!

Coming through!

On me, on me, on me!

One, two, three. Come on, come on!

Four! Go!

- Is that the border? - That's it, mate.

Let's do it.

Sentries.

Heavy machine guns. Trucks.

Military vehicles. They got a whole fucking army there.

Shit!

Go, go, go!

Shit!

Come on, Ding, we can make it.

Bollocks to this!

I'm freezing!

The last one.

Ain't got none left, have you, mate?

Ta.

Ready?

Let's go.

It took Mark and me most of the night

to work our way through the Iraqi positions.

In all the confusion we lost Tony, Baz and Dinger.

There was no time to think about that. We were low on ammo.

Soon the only weapon left would be the darkness,

and that was fading fast.

Let's go!

Mark!?

Mark!

Mark...

Only 2Ks to go.

(Truck Drives Over Bridge)

Four hours till last light, and I could try again.

(Truck Drives Over Bridge)

(SOLDIERS GET OUT OF TRUCKS)

(SHOUTS IN ARABIC)

- Tel Aviv! - Tel Aviv!

(IN ARABIC)

- Your name? - McNab.

- Rank? - Sergeant.

Your unit?

Your unit?

I cannot answer that question.

- You are an Israeli? - No, I'm British.

- I'm just a British soldier. - You are an Israeli!

Do you take me for a fool?

Can you tell me what you are doing here?

I'm a British soldier.

Just a British soldier.

You are an Israeli!

Pig!

(IN ARABIC)

Once again, what is your name?

McNab.

- Your rank? - Sergeant.

And your unit?

Under the Geneva Convention, I'm afraid I can't answer that question.

Fool!

We are not in Geneva.

- What is that? - It's gold.

Take it off.

Show me.

- You like my English? - Yeah, it's very good.

Of course it is. Do you think I'm stupid?

You think we're all stupid.

Please.

I want you to tell me what Israel is doing here.

- Now. - I'm sorry. I can't answer that...

Fucking outrageous.

These coins are what?

Gold. Gold sovereigns.

Why do you carry such wealth?

In case we need food. It's bad to steal

Quite so.

His boots were handmade, probably in London.

This boy had to be a Rupert.

- Your name is? - McNab.

- Rank? - Sergeant.

- What do your friends call you? - Andy.

Andy.

Perhaps you can help me.

Of course, we have captured the other members of your group.

What I need to know now, Andy...

Are you the same group that was discovered three days ago?

- I'm trying to help you, Andy. - I don't understand.

I'm trying to help, but you're confusing me.

I don't know jack shit.

Have you eaten recently?

No.

So, Andy. What was your unit doing in this part of the world?

Israeli, British... doesn't matter much to me.

For now.

However, both countries would not send men who know jack shit

into their enemy's territory.

You are special forces, Andy.

I understand that you are still doing your duty,

and you must understand that I have to do mine.

So, what was your task, Andy?

Please, don't insult me.

I don't even... I don't even know where I am.

The officers just order us about, they don't tell us anything.

I hate the army. They didn't tell me I would have to do things like this.

I mean, I don't even know why we're at war.

Do you know who the White Socks are, Andy?

No.

They are our secret police,

and their methods are far more brutal than ours.

So, I will ask you again:

What is your unit, and what were you doing in northern Iraq?

If you answer me truthfully, I will see what I can do to protect you.

There is nothing more I can do to help you.

(Orders in Arabic)

Whoever your God is, you'll need him now.

- This is fucking outrageous! - Dinger?!

Andy!?

Bastard!

- Who's farted? - Dinger, shut the fuck up.

- You like? - Mmm. My favourite. What is it?

I make 'nother just for you.

(Poofy Fart) We're amongst barbarians.

Did you see what happened to Tony?

No. What about Baz?

Dead.

Hypothermia. We had to cross the river.

Oh, Andy. He was in a shit state, mate.

I compromised myself to the locals hoping they'd help,

but it was too late.

- What about Mark? - He's dead, mate.

He took some rounds really close up.

- How far did you get? - I was there. I could almost taste it.

- No talk, or bang, bang! - Yeah, yeah. OK, mate.

- Argh! - Up, up, up!

- You all right? - Scared shit less.

Well at least they can't make us pregnant.

Hello?

Are you sitting comfortably?

Andy, isn't it?

Yes.

How are you feeling?

I think I need medical attention, and my friend also.

Of course. We are not animals.

But first you will tell us what you are doing in our country.

I'm trying to help you, but I don't...

You are not helping us at all Andy.

Tell me the plans of the Israelis, Andy.

I have told you, I'm not an Israeli.

Oh, shit!

There's nothing you can do about pain.

You've just got to accept it.

But it's great when your body says.: That's enough';

and starts to drift you off into unconsciousness.

- Ding? - Andy!

Help me.

Please help me.

I can prove I'm not an Israeli.

- How? - Because I have a foreskin.

- A what, Andy? - A foreskin.

Jews are circumcised, it's part of their religion.

Let me show you.

See! It's foreskin.

I pulled as hard as I could, which was difficult due to the cold.

So, Andy. Now you will tell me, huh?

What is your mission and what else are the British planning to do?

We might be captured, but we still had a job to do.

The Regiment needed time to carry out damage limitation.

They had to assume the worst.

That we'd been captured and told the Iraqis everything.

Other operations would have to be cancel led or changed.

"Queen and Country" - that's bullshit.

Up up up up!

- Shall we start again, Andy? - No!

So, Andy. Tell us.

I'm a member of a search and rescue team.

And what do you do, Andy?

We rescue downed pilots.

- I'm a medic. - Medic?

And what was your mission on this occasion?

I don't know. The officer knew.

They operate on a need to know basis.

They don't tell us anything, just to get on the heli.

- The helicopter. - Good, Andy.

Now you'll eat. Then we will talk some more.

Thank you. And my friend?

Yes, yes.

But first you will sign a paper for the Red Cross.

So they know you are all right.

I can't. The army will punish me if you ever send me home.

I tried to find God. I begged Him to help us

and said as much of the Lord's Prayer as I could remember.

Nothing happened.

Manchester United win. very good team.

You look very happy now. You look very happy.

- Stan? - Hey, no look!

- Come here often, wanker? - Hey, guys, no talking!

No talking, Dinger!

- Stan's here. - Shut up, shut up!

You're in a terrible state, Andy.

How are your teeth? Are they still giving you some problems?

They're broken.

We have a dentist here. He worked in Guy's for nine years.

One of the best.

Open wide, please.

Do you really think we are going to help you?

You are irrelevant to us. You lied to us.

You are the men from the South, aren't you?

You're stupid. Stupid.

I'm helping you all I can, but I'm just a medic.

How many medics, Andy, leave 100 men dead,

and another 100 in the hospital?

Tell me what your task was. Tell me. Tell me!

I told you I don't know anything about that.

I'm a medic. Please. Please!

I need him on his back.

Do it! Bomb me, you bastards! I'm down here!

(DINGER): Don't do it! He don't mean it!

Fuck it! Do it! Do it!

(DINGER): Why are you getting me into trouble?

I asked you for an answer yesterday. Do you have it for me?

Yes, sir.

Tosca. "Turncoats for the opera."

Five letters.

T-O-S...

...C-A. Tosca.

You and your friends will not last much longer.

We have others in the hospital You know that, Andy?

Look, you are the senior rank here, huh?

No one knows you are alive.

We can let you die, and no one would know.

Your government, they do not care about you.

To them, you are just a tool to be used.

Andy, if you will not tell me who you are and what you are doing,

we will simply let the others die.

Think about it, Andy.

(GUARDS): You bad boy, Dinger! Bad boy!

This was not a black and white film

where the actor sticks out his chest and shouts: Never!

This was real. We'd all fulfilled our obligations to operational security.

It was now time to fulfil our obligations to each other.

Very bad boy!

This is disgusting.

What did you do that for?

The window was open, so I threw it out.

I only opened it because you're killing me with those fags!

Sorry. I see shit and have to react.

- What's this? Jam?! - Don't even think about it.

Don't...

- Jam again! - I'm closing the window.

Clash, Sex Pistols, Showaddywaddy?

That's not mine.

Sorry, your whole tape collection is contaminated.

Unbelievable.

COP.

- A what? - Close Observation Platoon.

Every infantry unit has one.

We closely observe what's going on.

In this case it was the MSR.

- MS...? - ..R. The Main Supply Route.

We had to report on movements there.

It was just a patrol put together for the job.

Tell me what happened.

A shepherd walked into our position, so we had to get out.

- So you headed north? - Yeah, for Syria.

It was the only way out.

- How did you get in? - A helicopter.

Show me.

What I told them was a good story, and almost true.

I simply left out words like Scud and The Regiment.

I had nothing to lose. Chances were we were dead anyway.

It was now a question of waiting to see if they believed me.

Here.

They let me be for the next few days, just working on Dinger and Stan.

They wanted to confirm my story.

I would soon find out if it had worked out or not.

I wasn't afraid, I was depressed.

I thought of Jilly and Kate not even knowing if I was alive or dead.

If they were going to do it, let's just crack on and make it quick.

No bloody comms, no decent maps, no bloody backup.

They can't even get the weather right.

And all my sweets are green.

Green for Christ's sake! I hate bloody green.

Back in Rhodesia, there's a tree called morula tree...

The next few days were relatively happy.

All we could do was talk about families, life and each other.

Here was Dinger on God:

"I don't believe in the old bastard."

On his family:

"We had the most God-awful row the night before we left."

"Still hurts when I think about it."

On me:

"Henry VIII, that's who you are."

31, and already you've got three wives. What's your excuse?

Adoption, mate. Never knew my mother.

That explains everything, does it? Your taste in music?

Your appalling clothes? Why did you join the army?

What.?

Why did you join the army?

To keep out of trouble.

You thought if you joined there'd be no more trouble?

Best thing I ever did. Never been in trouble since.

What the bloody hell do you call this?

♪ He's crazy like a fool

♪ What about Daddy Cool

♪ Daddy, Daddy Cool

♪ Daddy, Daddy Cool

♪ He's crazy like a fool

♪ What about Daddy Cool

Hands, Andy.

Andy? Do you like Michael Jackson?

Yeah, I do.

Did you know I sing in a group here in the city?

Play every Saturday night. Play the Meridien Hotel

- No, I don't believe you. - Why? Don't you like my voice?

♪ Daddy, Daddy Cool

Will you show me London after the war?

Yeah, sure.

Andy, I love you.

- Do you love me? - Yes, Jeral, I love you.

Hands, Andy.

I'm pissed off sucking up to that little wanker for your fags.

I promise I will never divulge what you two get up to.

- I licked shit off my hands for them. - Ah, quit honking.

I'm saving one for the firing squad. Can't be long now.

Do you really think it's going to be like Breaker Morant?

Dawn sky, chaplain, last fag,

instead of bend over, bang, straight into the bin-liner?

We weren't shot. Not that week, not the following.

Apart from the chance of being blown apart by the bombs falling on the city,

we slowly began to believe that we might just get out in one piece.

Reports in from Syria inform us that a British soldier

crossed the border in the area where you were captured.

They say in Damascus that he's SAS.

Are they treating you well?

Oh... For you.

Well done, Chris. Well done.

But they're all green!

Stan! Dinger!

You are going home.

Not Andy.

Not Andy?

Not Andy.

- Don't worry, we'll get you out of here. - I'll call Jilly, mate.

Here, catch.

This was the worst time for me.

Why had they kept me behind, except to shoot me.?

Dying didn't worry me,

but I'd taken it for granted that we were going to go together.

I kept seeing my own funeral in Hereford,

with Dinger smoking all the way through the service.

When a colonel had said what a good soldier I'd been,

Dinger would have shouted: Wanker!

Then they would've drunk the 500 pounds of booze

I paid for the last piss - up.

And then I got to thinking about Kate,

and by first light she'd made me feel more composed.

(NEWSREADER): The Iraqi conscripts seemed to deserve

pity rather than anger. 200,000 of them gave themselves up.

All they want to do is go home to their families.

They are war-weary and have no spirit left for the battle.

The road north from Kuwait to the Iraqi port of Basra

showed the cruel reality.

The highway littered with the burnt-out, smashed remains

of vehicles the Iraqis stole in Kuwait.

Saddam promised them glory, but they've lost interest.

As far as I'm concerned, it's over.

Saddam Hussein had better know it's over.

If Saddam makes the mistake of starting it again,

then he's going to have a lot more trouble than he has in Iraq right now.

Reagan, Jack.

- Simpson. - First name?

- Peter. - Through those doors, up there.

McNab, British Army.

If we don't move quickly, they'll start taking hostages. Come with me.

Mark!

Mark!

Mark!

I got shot, mate. In my foot!

Next thing, they handcuffed me to a bed and left me to rot.

Mark!

- Can you see it? - What?

- My foot, mate. - How can I miss it?

It's the size of a marrow!

One thing that's bugged me ever since we landed in Saudi...

Yeah?

- The piece of breeze-block. - Yeah?

- The one in my Bergen. - Yeah?

Did you have anything to do with it?

Here. It's my sweet.

- What colour is it, mate? - Ha-ha-ha-ha!

It was green, but I guess you can't have everything.

Back in the UK we had an outrageous piss - up.

Then the psychiatrist turned up to test us,

looking for post-traumatic stress disorder.

It turned out they were more strung out than we were.

War is barbaric, but if you think this is the bit where I say

I want to spend the rest of my days hugging trees, don't hold your breath.

Hi!

Hi!

We're soldiers. It's my profession and I'm proud of it.

Nobody said you had to be crap at it.

As for the men who tortured us - they had a job to do as well

It's just that some of them enjoyed it a bit too much.

If I met any of them in the street tomorrow,

and thought I could get away with it,

I'd slot them.

Resync/Corrections/Conversion by Chuck

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