Original subtitles

- Hear that, Sarge? - Yeah.

It sounds as if they're moving 'round our position.

You can hear 'em a mile off.

Quiet.

It's hopeless. Bloody hopeless.

Come on, Mitch. Let's pack it in and get out of here.

Wait.

- How did it sound, Sarge? - Lousy.

We're supposed to be trying to confuse them, MacLeish,

not deafen the yellow Nips.

It wasn't still too loud, was it?

Yeah.

Of all the half-baked showers!

You lot ought to get some training in!

The thing is, Sammy son,

for sonic deception,

our recorded noises have got to be that much higher

than the natural jungle sounds around us.

Sorry, Smudge. I knew I was taking it a bit high.

Come on! Come on, you dirty, rotten

stinking, long-eared miserable--

Go easy with him, Bammo, or he'll bite.

He's not quite human, you know?

None of us are, stuck out here.

Sonic bloody warfare?

Decoy ducks making "quack, quack" noises to the Japs.

Never a shot fired in anger.

Sonic warfare.

Comic warfare is more like it.

We volunteered for it, Bammo.

A soft spot you said it would be.

Volunteered? You, you, you and you.

Cor blimey!

My backside's becoming a good pulling for insects.

It's better than getting killed, boyo.

It's better than real fighting.

Oh, you tiny Welsh nit.

It's not the British army you want.

It's the Salvation Army.

Come on!

Get a move on about the gear, Bamforth,

and move yourself.

Go on, you big berk.

Smith, Whitaker.

What do you two think you're doing?

Or are we intruding?

Off we go again.

- Okay. - Watch yourself.

Okay.

And what does Uncle Mac think of children's hour this time?

Or should me and Taff, this Welsh nit,

have grunted a bit harder towards the end?

You're an ignorant bastard. You're just dead ignorant.

Dry up, you Highland twerp.

Here.

This is him. Corny.

Corporal McCorny.

Go on. Go out and make some more sounds.

Get a Jap at the end of your bayonet

and see what kind of a sound that makes.

That'll do, Bamforth!

Berk.

What was that?

All right, drop it.

If you think you're gonna stop the Japs advancing

by playing them records,

you've got another think coming.

You don't begin to understand

the meaning of the exercise, Bamforth.

Look, if the Japs think that our boys are where they're not,

they'll move from where they are.

And they tell us about Scots' education.

Yeah, I see.

Then they land on us.

That's right.

Lovely. The better we do the job,

the bigger bloody mess we land in.

Now, you couldn't have a better incentive than that, now, could you?

What's the odds, Bammo?

Makes a change.

What's the matter there, my old darling, eh?

I wish I had a carrot for you, boy.

You know, to really confuse the Nips,

I reckon we need about 12 million good island troops, Taffy.

Let's see, that, uh...

Well, that just about equals two Jap regiments.

Drain off the haggis the Scots are full of,

drop if all over the Nips,

and they all catch a quick death from Tartan poisoning.

All colors of the rainbow.

The Highland Division are the backbone

of the British Army, Bamforth.

Always have been.

I wonder how the boys are getting on up country.

As quick as you can, you lot!

Come on! Get a move on!

Well, I'll glad to see the back of this lot.

Get me a transfer to a fighting mob.

I've had me bellyful of these half-baked berks.

You ought to try and lose this lot, Mitch.

You might get a medal.

Are you being funny?

Sorry. Sorry. I didn't mean anything.

You better not.

Don't come that line with me, Johnno. I don't like it.

I said I was sorry.

Anyone could lose a patrol.

You could lose a bloody regiment in this setup.

Look, Corporal, just for the book, let's get this straight.

All right, so I lost a patrol once,

and I was busted down to corporal.

But they're back there now, see? All three of them.

All right?

All right.

Okay.

And I don't intend to lose them again.

All right. Let's be having you.

Another blasted lecture on how to contact Mars

with a flashlight battery.

I'm beginning to get the idea,

though you're still making too many mistakes.

The high volume was my fault, Sarge.

Oh, stop whining, Sammy. Forget it.

Now, we're gonna try again in a different terrain.

Cor blimey. How much more?

As much as I say, Bamforth.

I don't you'll be with this mob long.

You're just the kind of volunteer we can do without on this game.

All right. We're going up country a couple of miles.

There's a tin mine up there,

should it should be rocky country, just right.

Sammy, get through on the set.

Tell HQ we're pushing on.

The rest of you, load up the mules.

- Sarge. - Sarge.

Hello, Charlie, George, Uncle.

Report my signals. Over.

Man on radio: Hello, Charlie, George, Uncle.

Receiving you loud and clear.

Send your message. Over.

Hello, Charlie, George, Uncle.

I'm moving to second position as arranged. Over.

Hello, Charlie, George, Uncle.

Message received and out.

And now Auntie Mac and Uncle Johnno

bring the poor kiddies everywhere

the strolling players of the flaming jungle.

All right? All together now, little nippers.

Shut up, Bamforth!

They're a very cocky lot, they are,

as long as it's safe as a walk in the park.

Take it easy, Johnno. We're teaching 'em,

not drilling 'em for a fancy parade.

Smoke?

Ta.

Bloody jungle.

Gives me the tomtits.

Yeah.

Sergeant!

Mitch!

Mitch, we should have been there by now.

You on a stopwatch, Corporal?

You're getting tired.

With this mob and this blasted gear, who wouldn't be?

Now, come on, for Pete's sake! Get a move on!

Come on!

Bamforth!

You want me, Corp?

I said move! Smarten up a bit.

Are you gonna inspect us, then, Corp?

I don't want any of your lip, lad.

Now do it properly!

All right, Corp. All right.

Halt.

- Halt. - Hold it.

This is it. We'll rest here a while.

That's all it wanted.

That's just about the bloody worst.

Shall we make for the hut, Sergeant?

I'll take a look around first.

You're not taking any chances, are you, Sergeant?

Keep me covered.

Right.

Bamforth!

Get your pack on your back and look sharp about it!

Next time you keep it off, you'll hear different!

You and Taff go keep the sarge covered.

Right.

Ride on, Bamforth!

Ride on.

What was that?

Oh, him. He only coughed.

I'm warning you, Bamforth.

Put one foot wrong, I'll have you in the cooler so fast,

your feet won't touch the ground!

You threatening me, Corp?

I'm warning you!

I've got witnesses.

You'll get six months, Bamforth, I'll see to that.

I'll have your guts.

Just try.

Just try it on for size.

You know, you made a big mistake, Bamforth,

cheap mixing it with Johnno.

He's not a bad fellow when you get to know him.

NCOs. I've shot 'em.

He works it by the book.

The Army's his life, that's all.

Do you fancy him?

You watch your mouth, Bamforth. You watch it.

Yeah, don't start giving me that patter.

You better get some service in

before any of you start talking--

Lay off, both of you!

Can't I leave you for five minutes

without you belching at each other?

All right, we're going in! Take him, Mac.

- Sergeant. - Right.

Come on! Bring 'em on!

Let's get it over and done with, Mitch.

We'll take a rest until the rain's over,

do one more exercise, then get back.

Roll on.

Bamforth, Taffy,

unload the mules and get them out of sight.

Give 'em a hand, Smitty.

It stinks in here.

What I would give for a good dry-off.

You better go make sure they stash those mules away all right.

A bloody nursemaid this mob needs.

Just what do you think you're on, you lot?!

This job gonna last for the duration?

They're all wet and hard to untie, Corp.

We can't get them undone.

You'll come undone if you don't get on with it.

Now, come on, Bamforth!

What am I supped to be, Roy Rogers?

Less of the mouth, Bamforth.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch--

I said shut up, Bamforth!

Yeah? You want something?

Try it. Go on. Try it.

That is all I ask.

Evans: Don't be mad, Bammo.

Nit.

Dump the gear on the steps.

The others will cart it inside.

Got through yet, Sammy?

- Not yet, Sarge. - Well, keep punching. Mac?

Sergeant.

I'm gonna take a stroll around, get the lay of the land.

Keep a sharp lookout.

Aye, Sarge.

Better get in and dry off.

Come on, Johnno, we're gonna see

what we've got at the back of us.

Suits me.

Come on, Bammo, let's get inside.

What difference does it make?

We can't get any wetter.

That's right, boyo, but we might get dryer.

The creep. The stupid drip.

Johnno's got it in for you, boyo.

He'll have your guts for garters yet.

He's after you.

Rotten bleeder. He wants carvin' up.

You know, when this lot's over,

I want to meet him in town just once.

That's all. Just once.

I got something, then...

but I don't seem to be getting it now.

You haven't changed much.

Nothing but rain.

Best take it down and wipe it out.

Sergeant said to get through, Smudge.

Well, if we can't get through without taking it down,

the Sergeant's just gonna have to bloody well wait, won't he?

Wham!

Right across the eyes.

Then, uhh, in with the knee.

Finish with a foot.

All over. Send for the cleaners.

You wouldn't fight like that, Bammo.

What do you know about it, you Cardiff, creep?

Only good for digging coals and singing hymns, you lot.

Shows how much you know, boy.

You want some real fighting, Bammo,

you go down Cardiff docks on a Saturday night.

More fights there than you've had hot dinners.

Country stuff, son.

Look, you want to see a bloke carved up proper,

so his missus thinks he's someone else?

You send for the London boys.

Why don't you pack it up?

What's that?

You heard me. I said give it a rest.

I never heard your name and number in this conversation.

I'm just telling you, that's all.

I've had about enough.

Blasted little boys shouting the odds.

One sniff of a barmaid's apron

you'd all be on the floor.

That's how you want a barmaid, Smudge.

Good old Taffy.

Getting barmaids on the floor.

And I thought you was a Presbyterian.

Strict Chapel. Every Sunday.

Sunday's his day off,

when he leaves the milkmaid's alone.

Tuesdays and Wednesdays,

he's going steady with an Eisteddfod.

Come again?

You know, one of them dogs

in a long black hat and bits of lace.

Always singing hymns.

It's like being in church, only its outside.

Tricky move.

So they can whip them up the mountainside

for a quick half hour afterwards.

Crafty, these taffs. Go on, you!

- Take it easy. - A puddle. So what?

I don't know. It could be pretty deep.

With the mules and the equipment--

Don't tell me you're nervous.

We can't get any wetter.

You all right, Johnno?

The water's fine. Come on in.

- You all right? - Yeah.

We should get the patrol through here,

if the level doesn't rise.

Pack it in, Bamforth. I can't hear a thing.

Order if you please!

Second verse.

Will you cut it out?!

Hello, hello, hello, hello!

Our little blue-eyed operator's doing his nut now.

That's all we wanted, him.

What don't you keep quiet, Bamforth, man?

I've got something on the set.

Of course you did,

my little old flower of the East.

What was it, Sammy son? Bing Crosby?

I told you. I got... something coming through.

Do you think it was the camp?

We're 15 miles away from base.

You know, this boy couldn't get

the British Broadcasting Corporation

in his own sitting room.

I don't know what it was, but I got something.

- Try them again, Sammy. - Try it on transmit.

Tell them I'm coming home tomorrow night, Sammy,

and ask them what's for dinner.

Hey, what's tomorrow?

Friday. Fish and chips.

Don't you think of anything except your stomach?

He's a walking belly.

Hello, Charlie, George, Uncle.

Report my signal. Over.

Hello, Charlie, George, Uncle.

Are you receiving me? Report my signal. Over.

- It's useless. - So what's the use?

There was something.

That's your story, and you stick to it.

Perhaps you imagined it, Sammy boy.

I got something through, I tell you.

You couldn't get through a hot dinner, my son.

You couldn't even get through a cookhouse tart.

Something came through.

It did.

Ya nit.

We'll take a shufty around this end, okay, Johnno?

Right.

Thank God the rain's packing in.

Yeah, you'll be nice and dry by the time we get back.

What you got there, Taff?

A book.

Sling it across.

Come on, sling it across.

My mother sends me them.

"Ladies Companion and Home"?

Why, it's disgusting. You've been carting this around for days.

I'm following a serial.

What's wrong with that?

This is the bit I like.

"Margret Benning Replies."

All these girls writing up

because someone's left them in a pudding club.

- Read us one out, Bammo. - Well, get this, then.

"Dear Margaret Denning.

"I've been walking out for six months

with a corporal in the army who's a very nice boy."

Well, that's a dirty rotten lie for a start.

What does she want to know?

"I like him very much,"

and we plan to marry when the war is over.

"Lately, however,

"he's been making certain suggestions

which I know are wrong."

Certain suggestion?

Cor, you nit.

"He says I ought to agree if I love him.

"What shall I do?

"Ought I to fall in with his wishes,

"or should I stand by my principles and risk losing him?

"I've always wanted a white wedding.

Yours, Gwyneth Rees, Aberystwyth."

Cor, it's another bleeding taffy.

What did she tell her?

"Dear Miss Taffy.

"I'm sorry to hear that you've had the misfortune

"to fall in love with a corporal.

"The next time he starts making improper suggestions,

you should kick him in the crotch and marry a private."

It doesn't say that, does it?

What do you think, you ignorant berk?

Well, I don't know, do I?

What do you reckon she ought to do, Smudger?

Same as Bammo says.

Oh, I don't know.

Things are different when there's a war.

He might get shoved off overseas for years, perhaps.

Then where'd he be?

Same as you are. Up the creek without a paddle.

Now, look, Taffy,

don't be a sucker all your life.

You've got a dolly back home, haven't you?

Well, now, when did you see her last?

Embarkation leave, 18 months ago.

Now, for all you know,

she's probably weaning one by now.

You know what it's like back home these days.

It's a den of vice. Unoriginal sin.

All them Poles and Yanks

and cartloads of glorious allies,

all colors of the bleedin' rainbow.

Even the kids are beginning to look like licorice allsorts.

You think your girl's sitting at home knitting?

Mine's all right, boy. Don't you worry about that.

She's probably up the mountain right this minute

with a big buck Yank.

She's not like that.

Yaah.

They're all like that.

Just a lot of ground seeds for the fighting forces.

If anything was wrong, I'd soon know about it.

Her mother's my auntie, you see?

You can't marry her, then. It's disgusting.

Not my real auntie.

They've been friends, now, her mother and mine,

well, for years.

My father's brother married her cousin.

You make it sound like rabbits.

Where the hell do you think we're going, Mitch?

We may never find that hut again.

Let's go back by the mine. It's the sensible thing to do.

I wanna see what gives before we go back.

What gives? I'll tell you for nothing.

Jungle. Rotten, stinking lousy jungle.

That's all there is out there.

If you're not needling me, you're complaining.

All right, then. Here we go again.

"Lost With Handsome Sergeant, Chapter Two."

I've told you before, Johnno.

That joke's had it.

"Both senior NCOs shall not be away

from the patrol at the same time."

That is how I read the book.

The book. The book.

You and and Bamforth both use the bloody book!

Here.

What are you on, then?

Oh, you. Daredevil.

You mean me?

Who else?

My socks.

What for?

Kit inspection, Saturday morning.

Oh, jeez.

What with Taffy and his "Ladies Companion,"

and you and your knitting.

If the Japs ever come down as far as this,

they'll have you two grafting in their regimental brothel.

And where will you be, Bamforth?

Me?

When the Japs arrive.

Not here, that's for sure.

I wasn't meant to be a hero.

I gathered that.

I'll tell you where I'll be, boy.

On the trot.

You can bet your bottom-bleeding dollar.

I've got it all worked out, see?

Tin of brown boot polish from head to toe,

couple of banana leaves 'round the old whatsits,

boom, and it's straight for the border,

just like one of the locals.

And so we say farewell

to this lush, green and prosperous country,

leaving our old comrade in arms,

hopeless wireless operator

Private Fanny Whitaker,

making peace with the invading armies of the Rising Sun--

And the invading armies of the Rising Sun

carving little pieces out of Private Fanny Whitaker.

Pack it in, Bamforth.

What's the matter, Whitto?

Getting the wind up?

Shut up, will you?

Get knotted.

I haven't seen anybody hand a medal to you yet, Bamforth.

No, and you're not likely to, my old haggis basher.

I don't go a bundle on this death or glory stuff.

So why not keep your big trap shut?

Democracy, Mac.

Free speech, votes for women,

and 877 Private Bamforth for Prime Minister.

Smith: Show us your red flag, Bammo.

I don't mind, Smudge.

I only get a little watted when that

Corporal Twinkle Johnstone's around, that's all.

You satisfied?

- With what? - This!

This game of soldier we're playing at.

Get any wiser? Any better off?

At least we know another way out if we should want it.

Another way out of what? This is real charming.

Another way out of what?

The rotten Japs are almost back in Tokyo.

How do we know that?

How do we know anything?

All we know is that we got a bunch of berks

weighed down with equipment.

That's why we're here.

And they told me there was a war on.

At least they could do is dish us up with some decent equipment.

The only thing we've got that makes a bang

is stuffed inside the sonic gear.

All top secret gear has to be detonated in an emergency.

Didn't you read that in your book, Corporal?

It gives me the screaming willies lugging it about.

It's safe enough. It's not primed.

What are we supposed to do if the Japs show up?

Light the fuse and sling the sonic gear at 'em?

Couple of grenades apiece,

they could have given us that, at least.

You said yourself the Japs are miles away.

I wish to God I was.

I can't say I disagree with that.

What are we fighting for, comrades?

All right, I'll tell you.

Loose living and six months' holiday a year with pay.

Why, the general told me that himself.

"Bamforth," he says to me

taking me 'round the back of the lav at Catterick.

"Bammo, my old son,"

"the British Army's in a desperate position."

"The yellow peril is about to descend on us."

"The Gatling's jammed,"

"the colonel's dead,"

and the cook corporal's stuffed

"the regimental mascot in the oven.

"We got 2,000 Jocks up in the jungle

screaming mad for beer, haggis, and women."

What's that about the Jocks?

"Get in there, Bammo," says the general,

"and relieve the situation."

So before I had a chance to relieve myself, here I was.

What have you got against the Jocks?

It's a joke, you thick-skulled Scotch nit.

And I'll not stand for any more of your insubordination.

Come it on, boy.

Come it on.

Just try pulling your stripe again. That's all I want.

You'll jump to it, Bamforth,

when I'm calling out the time.

Oh, hell, you dim Scot crone.

I've been left in charge here, Bamforth!

Try taking off your stripe and saying that.

You moon-faced git.

One more word out of you,

and I'll put your teeth down your throat.

I mean that.

Do you want to play it rough, Jock?

I want to play it anyway that suits me,

and right now, it suits me to sort you out.

- Wrap it up, Jock. - Keep out of this, Smudge.

I'm waiting for you, Jock.

Stop it, Bammo.

You take a poke at him, what good will it do you?

You'll lose your stripe.

The stripe means nothing to me.

Well, what are you waiting for, Jock?

You're pretty big with your mouth.

Let's see you follow it up,

you stupid Scotch bastard.

What all this in aid of?

Do your shirt up, Bamforth?

Must have come undone.

And get your heels together when you talk to me.

Corporal.

Get on your feet! Move yourselves!

Corporal, stand by the door.

Right.

I could have been a regiment of ruddy Nips,

and I walked right through that door.

I walked straight in!

Corporal MacLeish.

- Sergeant. - I left you in charge.

What happened?

Uh, I had an occasion to reprimand...

I'm sorry, sir. I forgot myself for a moment.

I leave you in charge of the section, and what happens?

In no time at all,

you're running a monkey house!

You had occasion to reprimand who?

It was one of the men.

I didn't think it was a chimpanzee. Who was it?

It as something that happened in the heat of the moment.

Corporal MacLeish, who was the man?

I'd prefer not to say.

What do you think this is?

Just what?

All girls together and no telling tales?

Shut up!

It was a personal matter.

I preferred to handle it my own way.

Corporal, while you were sorting out your personal matters,

you could have had five men, including yourself,

with their guts on the floor.

Now, remember that: Five.

When we get back to camp, I'll have you all in trouble.

Real trouble.

You can't punish the whole section, Sergeant.

I can do just what I like, Corporal.

I can have your guts for garters if I want.

It's against all Army regulations.

Hello! What's this?

I was wrong. It was a chimpanzee.

As if I hadn't guessed.

Private Bamforth, 877.

Sar'nt.

Now get this, Bamforth.

It's crossed my mind a time or two

that you don't like the Army.

Sar'nt.

It's a mutual feeling, Bamforth.

The Army's not in love with you.

The hard case.

The barrack-room lawyer.

Sar'nt.

You think you're a bastard, Bamforth.

I'll tell you, I can be a bigger bastard than you'll ever be.

Sar'nt.

And I've got three stripe stars on you.

You haven't got a chance.

Now, you keep in line, boy, or I'll have you.

That's a warning.

Sar'nt.

All right. Gather 'round, all of you.

You better get this shambles back while you can, Mitch.

We're gonna carry this exercise out properly,

according to the book.

You're the sergeant.

That's right, I am... Corporal.

All right, now, pay attention.

We're gonna carry out this exercise in this area

and then we're going back.

Don't get the idea that I'm keeping you lot out here

just because I'm enjoying the game.

But we came out here to do a job,

and we're going to do it.

- Whitaker. - Sarge.

Did you get through to HQ yet?

The set's gone dead, Sarge.

Me and Smudge striped it down and gave it a wipe,

but the rain's got in it or something.

Get back over there and keep trying.

Bamforth, Evans, on guard.

The rest of you get some grub.

Don't eat it all at once, though.

You might be grabbing a bite later.

- Sergeant? - Yes?

Have you any--

Have you any idea which of the mobs have moved up country?

Only what I heard before we left the camp.

The Fusiliers, two battalions of Jocks and some artillery.

Why? Are you studying military history?

No, it's my kid brother.

He's with the Highland boys.

Only a rumor I heard in the mess.

Whitaker.

- Sergeant? - Any joy on the set?

I got something through about five minutes ago, Sarge.

I don't know what it was, though.

It was too faint to pick it up.

How much a week do they pay you for this, lad?

It's not his fault. The set's useless.

Okay, Sammy boy, you keep trying.

Right, Sergeant.

What do you reckon, Mitch?

What's that?

What he got.

I don't know. Must have been the camp.

No one else in this area pushing out signals.

With a dud set, he couldn't pick up any of the front-line mob,

they'd be out of range.

So it follows it must have been the camp.

Hello, Charlie, George, Uncle.

Hello, Charlie, George, Uncle.

Are you receiving me? Charlie, George, Uncle.

Report my signals. Over.

Damn dud equipment.

The whole damn issue's a dud.

Smoke?

Ta.

What time do you reckon we get back, Mitch?

Tomorrow, about 1800 hours if we keep this up.

- Sarge. - Yeah?

Coming through again.

There it is.

Well, come on, lad, let's be having it.

Ask the C.O. if he's still in love with me, old boy.

Nobody loves you, you horrible taff.

Shut up!

Pack that talking in!

Just a minute.

Hey, Taff, they're playing our tune.

It must be our allies.

What do you make of that, Mitch?

There's something weird about it.

What are they putting that out for, Sarge?

What's it mean?

Well, maybe they just like our song, Sammy son.

You've got it all right, Whitto, boy.

You've got the ruddy Japs!

If that's their camp,

they're having rice for tea and my name's Tojo.

Bring on the geisha girls.

A right ruddy radio operator you turned out to be, Whitaker.

You don't even know who's side you're on.

Cut out the talking, the lot of you.

Whitaker.

Whitaker, I'm talking to you, boy.

What's your range?

Come on!

I don't know. It can't be very much

What do you reckon?

It must be under 15 miles.

I can't get the camp.

It could be 10.

It might be even less.

Go on, Whitto, boy.

You're up the creek all over.

The Japs are way back.

Must be 20 miles away at least.

It was as clear as a bell.

They could be sitting right on top of us.

Mitch.

Under 15 miles?

So what's happened to the boys up country?

- Shut up. - What's happened to the forward boys?

I've got my brother posted up there!

Shut up, I tell you!

- Mitch-- - Go and check the Tommy guns.

Right.

Now, you just shut up.

It doesn't matter know if your mother's

having fun with a Jap.

- Bamforth. Evans. - Sarge?

Keep your eyes pinned there.

Put a round apiece up the sprout.

Okay, now put on your safety catches.

That's all we need. No more than that.

Now, listen all of you.

You're a very lucky little training patrol.

Instead of finishing the exercise that you all loved so much,

we're going straight back.

But we're not going back the way we came.

We've got a nice, safe surprise route for you.

How near do you think the Japs are, Sarge?

You've heard one Nippo on the set.

Now, that could mean that somewhere

one lousy bunch of Japs

has wriggled in behind our lines.

Half a dozen mugs like yourselves in hysterics

because they heard our young gallant Whitto here

putting out a signal back to base.

So don't panic.

Just get your gear on quickly.

Bamforth, you go and get the mules.

Sar'nt.

Evans, you stay on guard.

The rest of you, get ready to move off straight away.

Come on, then, move yourselves.

We got no time to play about.

You want me to lead off back, Mitch?

Yeah. Crack the whip a bit.

Set a nice, steady pace.

I want to try and make it in one stint.

I'm with you.

That makes a change.

Let's drop it, shall we, Mitch?

Suits me.

Come on, get your bottom out of the way, then.

Watching me old unit. Miss me?

Cor, it's true.

Where's that blasty Bamforth?

Always! Always Bamforth!

What's he doing with them mules?

There he is, Corporal.

Sarge!

Hold it all of you. What's up?

There's a Jap coming along.

How many?

Just one. One little bleeder. Armed to the teeth.

Get down. Get out of sight.

- See anything, Evans? - Nothing yet, Sarge.

Where about?

Over there.

I got it.

Keep still, will you?

Blimey.

Why, they do it the same way as we do.

Shut up.

I said no noise, you bloody fool.

I would have had him right between the cheeks.

I couldn't miss.

So what?

He's on his own.

What give you that idea?

- You think-- - Cut the talking.

Keep out of sight, all of you.

Evans, keep watching but don't fire.

Sarge.

The set.

Get it.

Mitchem: Get it.

Too late.

Come on, then, one of you! Get him!

Evans! Go for him!

Not that way, you berk! You want to do for me as well?

Use your bayonet! In his guts!

Not that way! Feel for it! Feel for it!

Quick!

Come on. Come on.

I can't hold him forever.

I can't do it, Corp. I can't.

Just close your eyes and whoof it in.

I can't! I can't!

MacLeish.

Not me.

Smith, take the bayonet.

Put the poor swine out of his misery, Taff!

You.

Here!

It's only like carving up a pig!

Now hold him still!

Bamforth! Hold it!

What the hell--

I'm only doing what I'm told!

Just hold it, that's all!

I want this one alive. Alive, Johnstone!

Now, you, I want no noise, see? Understand?

You make so much as a mutter,

and I'll let Jack the Ripper here have a go at you.

Good. I think I'm getting through to him all right.

Bamforth, put the carving knife away before he dies of fright.

- Boo! - Bamforth!

I said put the cutlery away!

Sar'nt.

All right, Johnno, he'll behave himself. Put him down.

Go on!

He looks as if he's gonna fight the war himself.

He's not exactly what you call a handsome bloke.

I'll fix it so it's Rita Hayworth walks in next time.

Come on, move. Back.

Around him like a lot of lambs

that got the first taste of milk.

A moment ago, you wouldn't touch him with a barge pole.

None of you.

Bamforth, take away the armory.

Sar'nt.

Stand still, you nig, unless you want the boot!

Blimey, you need a jockstrap for these.

A right lot I got landed with.

Not one of you had the guts to give me a hand.

But you cannot order men to put a bayonet in a prisoner.

What do you think they dish out bayonets for?

I have no intention of using one on any man who can't defend himself.

You berk.

He's a prisoner of war.

Prisoner my crutch.

There's such a thing as the Geneva Convention.

Geneva Convention?

He's carrying more cannon than the Woolwich Arsenal.

If he'd had pulled the pin on one of those grenades, thup.

Up the spout, the lot of us!

Still no sign of anyone, Evans?

Nothing yet, Sarge.

- Smith. - Sergeant.

You better take a careful stroll down the track.

See if you can contact any of Tojo's mates.

Right, Sergeant.

Supposing you were in his position.

I'd make bloody sure I wasn't, mate.

- MacLeish. - Sergeant.

You better go with Smudger. Take it very careful.

Aye, sir.

- Ready, Mac? - Aye.

That's about the lot, Sarge.

- Right. Evans? - Sarge?

Get the mules and start saddling them up.

Here. You're looking after Tojo.

I think he's taken a fancy to you.

I'll settle for this. Come on, then.

Down, shorthouse.

All right?

Now, put your hands up on your head.

I said get your hands up on your head!

On your bonce! Your head!

Like this, see?

Flingers on blonce.

All right?

Hey, Sarge, see that, did you?

He did it like I said. Flingers on blonce.

I talk the lingo natural.

I'll recommend you for an overseas posting.

You've not see nothing yet. Now, get this.

Allee-lighty.

Flingers up to clutch the loof.

Clutch the loof.

Come on! Come on! Clutch the loof!

You Asiatic glit.

He's a rotten ignoramus, this one.

Do you hear something?

I'm not sure.

They say the Japs can move around the jungle as if they weren't there.

Come on.

This is a bit dicey, isn't it, Mitch?

Maybe.

So why bother with this little yellow Harry?

Like I told you,

we're taking that boy back to the camp with us, all right?

All-lightee. That's the loof.

Loof.

But, Mitch, you don't know

how many more of them there are out there.

Not yet, but he does.

But they could be coming down in strength.

That's right, they could.

We've got enough--

Mitch, we've got enough on getting this lot back.

They've got no experience.

We'll have to bolt like the clappers of hell.

We'll step on it all right.

What, with a prisoner, three mules and this lot?

We're going to try!

All right. You're in charge.

That's about the size of it.

Come on, Evans, get a move on!

Tell him he can drop his hands, Bamforth.

He's not gonna run away.

Allee-lightee.

Flingers off blonce.

Flingers off blonce.

No, not that, you mug.

Here.

That's not so bad, though, is it?

He's coming on quick.

He knows his flingers already.

Good old Tojo.

Now let them drop.

Dropsy.

Down.

He picks up quick.

He's a glutton for knowledge is this one, Taff.

It's okay for you, Bammo. This gear's heavy.

Work, you Welsh peasant.

Nit.

Did you hear that?

Only those blasted monkeys.

Yes, I hear it.

Sounds ahead.

All right, what do we do now, Mac? Do we go back?

We better try and find out their strength.

Come on.

Flingers on blonce.

Drop flingers.

Yeah, he dropped them like a two-year-old.

Just keep him quiet, that's all.

We don't want any of that funny patter.

I'm teaching him to talk.

Well, don't!

Mitch, don't you think we should have...

done him in first time off?

You going soft?

Look, can you tell me how many Nips have broken through

and where they are right now?

Do you want to stay and count them?

I want to slog it back.

Look, we've copped on to a boy

who's got important information.

I'll leave any man in the patrol behind, including you,

before I'll say goodbye to him.

Supposing the whole Nip army is behind him.

No, he's much more likely to be just one of a patrol.

Look, Mitch, just supposing,

supposing he isn't.

Then I'll stick the bayonet in his guts myself.

You better check those Japanese grenades.

They might come in handy.

All right, Jock. Let's head back.

He's reporting his missing mate.

We better wait a while, see what they'll do.

Aah!

Come on, Jock, let's get back.

He's not dead yet.

We can't bother about that now. Now, let's move.

Uhh!

Come on. Come on!

Well, what do you think of that, Tojo, me old flowerpot?

It's a bit better than your cop

from one of them geisha lilies in Tokyo, I bet.

Hey, what's this?

Why, it's a photo.

It's a picture of a Japanese dog.

Who's this, then?

You got wife? Your missus?

It's his old woman.

Oh, very good!

Plenty of humpy, eh?

Japanese girl very nice.

Good old Tojo.

She's a bit short in the pins, though, but very nice.

I wouldn't mind a crack at her myself.

Hey, get this!

A couple of Nipper snappers, Sarge.

Two Jap kids. Couple of chickos.

You got two chickos, eh?

Two, see?

You got two kids.

Three?

No, you stupid raving imbecile.

Two. One and one...

two.

Dlinky-dloo.

Number two.

What? Another?

You got another one, as well?

Well, you crafty old devil.

You're a bit fond of it, aren't you?

You're a rotten old sex maniac, you are.

You're as bad as Smudge.

But very nice, though.

All right, Bamforth.

Keep your mind above your middle.

Keep trying, Whitaker.

If there are any Japs here, they'll get a fix on us, Sarge.

We've got to find out what's up, Sammy son.

Keep trying.

- Any sign of 'em? - Not yet, Sarge.

Hello, Charlie, George, Uncle.

Hello, Charlie, George, Uncle.

Are you receiving me? Report my signal.

Charlie, George, Uncle. Over.

Cigarette?

Hello, Charlie, George, Uncle.

Hello, Charlie, George, Uncle.

Are you receiving me? Report my signal.

Charlie, George, Uncle. Over.

Ta.

What was that in aid of?

He gets permission first.

I gave it to him.

Since when have you been calling the time?

I don't have to ask you if I want to give a bloke a drag.

- This one you do, mate. - Who says?

I do, lad. I do.

I'll fix his photos for him as well.

Uhh!

All right, all right,

you've done it this time, Bamforth.

You've shot your load.

And as sure as God's made little apples,

you'll get three years for that.

You try and make it stick.

Bamforth! You'll be court-martialed when we get back.

And you can thank your lucky stars

you didn't get a round through you.

He started it.

You can tell that to the C.O.

Stuff the bloody C.O.

And you and him and--

Man: Uni. British uni.

We you come to get.

Where are you?

Uni. British uni.

We you come to get.

British uni.

We you come to get. Where are you?

There's someone coming down the track.

Come on!

All right.

Wait!

Come on, give. Let be having it.

We found them. A big fighting patrol.

They sent out scouts to find Tojo.

Had to knock one off.

There were two of them. We tracked them.

- What happed to the other one? - He got away.

- Did he see you? - Aye.

- Why, you pair-- - Hold it!

How did knock the one off, Mac?

The bayonet.

I did it with a bayonet.

Good. Now we know it all.

We're leaving.

Get packed up, Sammy. Get moving, all of you.

Johnstone: Come on, then! Get a move on!

What's the score, Mitch?

That's what's troublesome. They're near.

Their main body can't be more than a few miles off.

We'll have to get up to the mine.

With him in tow?

No. We shall have to ditch him.

You want me to do the job?

Don't be so eager. No, we'll lose him in the mine.

He'll be less noticeable there.

Bamforth, you're in charge of the Nip.

Keep a close hold on him.

Taffy, you and Smith take the mules.

You've got the leather all right, I hope.

Yes, Sarge.

Johnno, you take the lead.

I'll bring up the rear.

Right, Sarge.

All right, come on. Get a move on.

Come on, Tojo.

Come on! Come on!

Get 'em moving!

Don't start playing up now. We're going back.

Haven't I always treated you like my own mother?

Come on! Come on! Come on!

Get those blasted animals moving!

Now, keep them flingers on the little old plonce,

otherwise, I'll blast it off.

Now, don't go doing yourself an injury.

We don't want any complaints from your missus.

Now, move, Tojo! Move! Move!

All right, come on.

Come on. Come on.

Get those animals moving, Taff.

Come on, my love. Don't keep the Corp waiting.

I told the Sergeant our signals

would give them a fix on us, Smudge.

They could, couldn't they?

Oh, for crying out loud, Sammy son. Stop whining.

Come on, Bamforth, keep that Nippo moving.

- He's moving. - And don't answer back.

Sarge?

How does the Jap end up?

We're stacking him.

You mean we're leaving him behind?

He can't tell us more than he knows already.

He's lot his value.

You're not gonna knock him off.

You want to do it?

The man's a prisoner of war!

God know how many more like him there are

between us and the base.

If anybody's a prisoner of war, it's us, not him.

You can't just put a bullet into him.

I know that. It makes too much noise.

- Mitch? - Yeah.

I'll take 'em straight through the water.

All right, keep 'em moving. Get a move on.

Right.

Just our flaming luck!

Hold it!

Hold it!

- Hold it. - Hold it.

What's up, Sarge?

Some water up ahead. Nothing serious.

Now, don't start getting lazy

just because you're standing easy for a minute.

Take a look.

We land in it, every rotten time.

Yeah, it must have been that rain.

Must happen every time it rains.

Charming. It's clobbered us for sure.

I don't know. If we hang on, it should drain off.

So we'll stick around until the level drops.

Right.

Right, listen.

We're gonna knock off here for a short break.

Evans, get those mules out of the way somewhere.

We don't want them stinking us out.

Never mind, my long-eared darling.

Perhaps you wouldn't like the smell of him.

Never mind the wisecracks, Evans.

Get Smitty and young Sammy to help you

offload these beasts before you move 'em.

Sarge.

- Bamforth. - Sar'nt.

You take the first guard, just around the corner there.

But I'm on important war work, Sarge.

MacLeish will take over.

About time you did something useful.

Here, Mac,

it's a pity you can't talk Japanese like I can.

Keep an eye on him, Mac.

Right, Sage.

Now, you behave yourself, lad.

What do you want?

Is it this you're wanting?

All right.

All right, boy. Whoa. Whoa, boy.

Smudge?

All right, boy.

Okay.

- All right, Smudge? - Yes.

You never said you had a girlfriend?

I was courting her when I left home.

You got a photograph?

I got a couple back at camp.

What's she like?

Sort of... pretty-like.

I met her at Darlington when I was doing my basic training.

Catholic.

She comes up to about my shoulder

with sort of yellowish hair.

She works for an insurance company.

We were courting... three months very near.

Well, did you take her out very much?

Couple of times a week, like.

Most nights we used to walk up through the park

along by the river.

Middle of summer, I was in Catterick.

Was it hot there. Boy.

She's only 17.

Is it a bit young, you think?

Well, that doesn't seem to make much difference these days.

Well, do you write to her?

Every day if I've got time.

Roll on peace.

You're giving one to me?

Oh, thanks. That's very kind of you.

A light.

My name's MacLeish.

MacLeish. Me. Do you understand?

Who are you?

Oh, my. Is that the only thing you know?

Who, Mitch?

Meaning what?

Who gets to do the job?

Are you volunteering?

I don't mind.

I didn't think you would at that.

Now, listen, Sarge-- Sarge...

there was one thing my old man taught me,

and he was a good corporal, my old man.

Never love your enemy. Hate him.

You love 'em, you end up with a bayonet in your back.

Someone's got to do it, Sarge.

Yeah.

They settled down all nice and comfy, Sarge.

I'm very happy for them.

Now, you run along and get settled down nice and comfy yourself.

Lovely.

I haven't had a letter for over a month.

Well, maybe she's busy.

I'm thinking she's got fixed up with some other bloke.

Well, maybe the mail's been held up.

I've got plenty from my mother.

You'll get one when you get back to camp, that's why.

I don't know.

I've thought of giving up, like.

Don't give up, boy.

This is the life, eh?

Oh, boy!

Yes, this is it.

- It wants doing quick. - I know.

- And quiet. - I know.

- It's a skin job. - I know all that!

So it wants someone who knows what they're doing.

You or me. We could toss for it.

Look, don't try to teach me my job, eh?

Mitch, I'm only trying to help.

I'm only making a suggestion.

It needs a professional touch.

Who gave him that?

Have you been keeping him in smokes?

I didn't give him. As a matter of fact,

it was him that give me this.

You're going steady already.

Of course not.

What's up, then? Do you fancy him?

I can't see any harm in accepting a smoke from the bloke.

- You wouldn't. - There's no harm in that.

Not much!

Why don't you go the whole way, lad, and turn native?

I wouldn't touch his stinking wog tobacco.

It's just an ordinary cigarette.

It's what? Let's have a gander.

Just like any other cigarette.

There's no difference.

You wouldn't chuckle. It's the same, all right.

It's got one little bit of a difference.

It's an English one!

It's British smokes.

They're British Army issue.

Give us a hold.

They're army issue, all right.

He must have thieved them from the lads up country.

But how did he get hold of them?

How do you think?

You can have three guesses.

The thieving bastard.

If there's one thing that gets my goat,

it's looting.

Come on, Jock.

You'd better finish it.

You're the one he gave it to.

I mean, you're his mate.

I'll ram it down his rotten throat.

I'll make him eat the rotten thing.

Jock, Jock.

Come on, Jock.

You don't want to waste it.

You don't know how much that smoke cost.

He stuck his bayonet in some poor bloody Tommy for that.

There's some of them would kill their own mother for a drag, Sarge.

He wants a lesson.

He should have a lesson taught to him.

And you were telling me how they treat P.O.W.s.

- I'll kill him! - Will you?

You swap sides quick.

Stick it!

You thieving slob!

Who goes in first? Who gets first crack?

Hold it a sec!

Jock, see if he's lugging around anything else

he's lifted from our boys.

Get up. Get on your feet.

Do as your told.

There's this.

I'll have a look at this, then.

You carry on.

Stand still!

- Stand still! - Uhh!

Tojo: Aah! Uhh!

Aah!

I said stand still!

What's up?

What's he done to ask for that?

He's been looting, Bammo, from our boys.

He's been what?

We caught him with a cigarette case

stuffed with British Army smokes.

Why, you Scotch twerp.

You dim Scotch nitwit. I gave him them.

You did?

I'm telling you I gave him half a dozen butts.

You gave them to him, Bammo?

What's the matter with you, Taff?

Are your ears bad?

I slipped him half a dozen butts.

Look what you...

And who gave you permission?

What's mine's my own,

and I decide what I do with it.

How was I to know?

I mean, he gave one to me.

I lit it up.

Look, I was having a drag.

I was halfway down the lousy thing and...

I mean, before I realized it was a British smoke...

Well, what would you have done, Bammo?

I could have choked, you know?

I've got a brother up country.

If he's dropped in with a gang of Nips who think like you do,

God help the kiddy. God help him.

I thought he'd looted them.

So you pulled the big brave hero bull.

The raving Highlander.

Well, aren't you the boy?

So what are you waiting for?

Come on, Jocko. Finish it off.

Come on! Come on! Come on!

He's waiting for the hump!

He can't hurt you back.

Let's see you bash him one!

Come on, Jock! Smash his face for him!

All right, Bamforth, cut it out.

Haven't any of you got the guts to go the bundle?

What about you, Taff?

You want to have a crack at him?

I said drop it!

You bunch of nits.

It was a mistake, Bammo.

You bet it was.

We thought he'd swiped 'em!

You lousy rats.

You even had to rip his pictures up.

You couldn't leave him them even.

I'll give you a hand, Bammo.

Here's a bit with a head on it.

He could stick it together easy enough

with a pot of paste and a brush.

Oh, dry up, you Welsh berk.

Tojo.

Hey, Tojo, boy.

I got your pieces for you.

Look. Here's a bit with a face on it.

Here, Taff.

Shove him this.

Right, boyo. Tojo, here's your wallet.

You better give him this

Maybe he'll be in need of a smoke.

Yeah, thanks, mate.

Bamforth, just a minute, lad.

Yeah?

I'd like to have a look at that

before you hand it on to him.

Ask him, not me. It's his.

He'll get it back.

He'd better.

He will.

- Bamforth. - Now what do you want?

I was just wondering, that's all.

Bamforth: Yeah?

Are you feeling in a generous mood today?

What's that supposed to signify?

I mean, did you give him the case as well?

I told you I gave him half a dozen butts.

The case belongs to him.

Does it?

The case is his.

Now, that is interesting.

Very, very interesting.

Because you better have another gander at it, then.

Hand it over, Bamforth.

What for? It's his.

I'd like to give it the onceover myself.

All right. So it's a British case.

It's made in Birmingham.

So what? What's that supposed to prove?

So tell us how he got hold of it.

Look, I don't know. Don't ask me.

I bloody do! The way he got the snouts!

- I gave him them fags. - So you say!

- I gave him them fags! - But what about the case?

Look, I don't know! Don't ask me! I don't know!

So he has been on the lifting lark.

Looting from the lads up country.

It begins to look that way.

You've got it all sorted out between you, haven't you?

It stands to reason, man.

You ought to be in Scotland Yard, you boys, in security.

It's pretty obvious he pinched the thing.

Is it?

How else could he have it, Bammo?

You pair of ignorant crones.

Sherlock-Taffy-Bloody-Holmes and Charlie MacChan.

Sexy Blake and his Tartan boy assistant.

How do I know where he got it from?

It's you bright pair that know all the answers.

You tell me!

You know, if I were you lot,

I'd have it cased for bloodstains and fingerprints

with a magnifying glass.

How does anyone cop onto a fag case?

You buy 'em! With money!

At least that's a carry-on in my hometown.

Where you two come from, they still swap things for sheep!

It's a British case, Bamforth!

And you're a head case, Mac!

Now, look, listen,

I've got a little kid sister back home.

12 years old.

She carts around a squinting Jap doll.

You know how she got it? I'll tell you.

On night, instead of being tucked up in her little bed,

she was out roaming the streets with a bleedin' great meat axe.

She knocked off nine Nippo nippers in a night nursery,

lifted a golliwog, two teddy bears, and this here doll.

You know how we found out?

It's got "Made in Japan"

stamped across its little pink behind.

Now, work that one out.

It won't wash, Bamforth.

The Japs don't import fancy swag.

They churn it out themselves and flog it around.

All right!

Go on! Beat him up!

Enjoy yourselves for once.

Have a good time.

Look... Listen.

You want to know who's got the biggest hoard of loot

in the Far East, bar none?

Who's got more Jap swag than any regiment?

I'll introduce him!

On my right and stepping into the ring,

the Flyweight champion,

the terror of the Newcastle Church Army Mission:

Private Winnie "Whining" Whitaker.

Cut it out, Bammo.

Come on! Take a bow, Whitto son!

Here he is!

The sole proprietor of the Samuel Whitaker War Museum!

It's worth hard gelt in anybody's lingo.

What are you driving at, Bamforth?

Ask the boy himself.

He's the proud possessor.

Come on in, Whitaker, my old son.

Don't be bashful.

Tell them all about your battle honors,

what you did in the great war, dad.

I don't know what you're supposed to be talking about.

Don't you? Well, Smudge knows.

Smudge has seen it. He can bear me out.

Leave the boy alone. There's no harm in it.

- It's true, though, isn't it? - Look, lay off the lad!

Is it the truth?

Yes, he's... got a bit of swag.

A bit?

Why, that's the bloody understatement of the war, that is!

It's only souvenirs, Bammo.

What kind of souvenirs you got, Sammy?

He's got 'em in his locker back at camp.

Why, Smudge and me had a look one morning when he left it open.

Come on, Whitto son, don't be shy.

Tell 'em what you've got.

Just some odds and ends, man,

and a few things I picked up, that's all.

Well, tell 'em what.

Some Japanese buttons and a couple rounds of ammo.

And the rest?

A knit cap, badge, and a belt.

- Go on! - That's all!

I've seen inside your locker.

- That's all there is! - You're lying, Whitaker.

I'm not, man! I've not got anything!

Leave him alone, Bamforth!

His locker's loaded with Jap loot.

It's like a little Tokyo inside his locker.

They're only souvenirs, Bammo.

When you get home with that lot,

you won't have to give the family the bull.

The Newcastle hero.

And you lot.

You want to beat up Tojo

just because he's got an English fag case.

If the Nips ever lay hands on Whitaker here,

they'll work it out that he's a sort of military Al Capone.

Him! Whining Whitaker!

The boy who has a nervous breakdown

at the thought of Madame Butterfly.

Can't you leave the lad alone?

All right. I've done with him.

But just to put these boys here right,

tell them how you copped on to your spoils of war.

I don't know. I...

They just came into my possession.

Bamforth: Tell them how!

I swapped some things for them.

In the canteen down at the Union Jack Club.

I swapped them for some stuff I had

from blokes that I met who came down from up country.

Bamforth: That's all I wanted to know.

Whitaker: It's not a crime!

No. No, it's not a crime.

It's not a crime to have a fag case, either.

Here.

Private Whitaker,

special decoration for systematic

scrounging of enemy gear.

You still haven't proved,

to my satisfaction,

that that's the way he got the case.

You try and prove it different.

Och,

what does it matter anyway?

- Evans. - Sarge?

Better give him this back.

Sarge.

Bamforth, go and see where that water is now.

Right.

And see what you goons can cook up this time.

You know, Mitch,

we might do better to knock that one off.

It's all right, Sarge!

Anyone for a skylark?

All right, all of you, we're going through.

Come on, men, get your packs on.

Come on.

Hey, Mitch. Mitch, what about, um...

Mitch, what about...

He's mine.

Shout if you want any help.

Oh, Mitch, what about the special gear?

Fix it so that it detonates 30 minutes from now.

Right. Good.

Smith, Whitaker, give me a hand with this.

We're gonna fix this

so that it detonates in half an hour.

Right?

- Right, Corp. - Right, Corp.

Pity to blow up all this lovely gear.

That's about what all this war's about:

Blowing up lovely gear.

- Evans. - Sarge?

Take the mules further down that cutting and leave 'em.

- Leave 'em, Sarge? - That's what I said.

Why not take 'em--

Just do as your told, eh?

But they'd starve, Sergeant.

There's nothing for them to eat.

If we shoot them, the noise will bring in every Jap in the area.

- But, Sarge-- - Look...

Do you want to kill them with a bayonet?

Now, just leave them.

Go on, leave them!

- Whitaker. - Yes, Sarge?

Try one last time to get through.

Tell them we're coming back,

that Japs are in the area.

But... it'll give 'em another fix on us, Sarge.

What else can we do, Sammy?

Get your pack on your back, Bamforth.

Right.

What's the matter with you, Taff?

Hey, what's the matter with you, you dumb Welsh pluck?

Why can't you shut up?!

Why can't you ever shut up?!

Must you forever be going on about something?!

Blimey.

What a nit.

Hello, Charlie, George, Uncle.

Report my signals.

Calling Charlie, George, Uncle.

Can you hear me?

Charlie, George, Uncle.

Report my signals. Over.

Hey, Sarge...

Come on, Tojo.

Get a bite to eat before we go.

There's no more handouts for the Nippo, Bamforth.

I've warned you, Johnstone.

Don't overstep them stripes.

I'll not take any more of that patter.

Is it all right if I give the prisoner a bite to eat, Sarge?

You heard what Corporal Johnstone said, Bamforth.

You what--

No more for the Nippo.

Yeah, but-but... the blokes got to eat.

I'm sorry, Bamforth.

There's none to spare for him.

Sorry?

We'll need all we've got for getting back.

He can have half of mine.

There's none for him!

But...

But...

we're taking him back as well.

Whitaker: Hello, Charlie, George Uncle.

Report my signals. Over.

We're taking him as well.

I'm afraid not.

He's stopping where he is.

Mac, sling us over that bayonet.

No!

I've no choice.

You said he was going back.

He was, before.

The situation's changed. I can't take him along.

What's the poor Nip, then, to us?

It's war!

It's something in a uniform

that's a different shade from mine!

He's not doing it.

Are you laying odds on that, Bamforth?

- But that's bloody murder! - He's a bloody Nip!

He's...

He's a man.

Shift yourself, Bamforth. Get out of my way.

You're not doing it, Johnno!

You're right, Bamforth.

I am.

You're a bastard, Mitchem.

I wish to God I was.

You're a dirty rotten bastard, Mitchem.

As far as I'm concerned, it's all these boys or him.

It's him and me!

Get to one side. That's an order.

Stick it!

For the last time, move over!

Try moving me!

Hello, Charlie, George, Uncle.

Report my signals. Over.

Well, don't just sit there, Whitaker.

Hello, Charlie, George, Uncle.

Report my signals. Over.

Who's side are you on? Come on, boy!

You've got no guts, you know that, Whitaker?

You've just got no guts!

We've got to get back, Bammo.

You're a gutless slob!

I've got to get back!

Evans. Taffy--Taff,

put a gun on these two, son.

Why, Bammo?

Well, they're gonna kill him, you nit!

You never know about that fag case, do you, boy?

What the hell's the fag case got to do with it?

Smudge. Smudge.

Now it's up to you.

Don't ask me, Bammo. Just leave me out.

You're in it, Smudge.

You're in it up to here.

I just take orders.

I do as I'm told. I just plod on.

Well, the plodding on has stopped right here!

Right here you got to stop and make a stand!

He's got a wife and kids!

I've got a wife and kids myself!

Now drop it!

It's like Mitch says, it's him or us!

MacLeish!

I hope they carve your brother up.

Get that?

I hope they carve your bloody brother up!

God.

All right, Bamforth.

You've had your say, now shift.

Shift me! Come on, you bloody heroes!

Shift me!

Hello, Charlie, George, Uncle.

Are you receiving me? Report my signals.

Come in Charlie, George, Uncle.

For Christ's sake, come in!

Where are you?

Where are you?

It's the Japs!

It's the Japs!

Get back. Get away from me.

Get back!

Leave me alone!

Man: English uni.

We know where you are.

English uni.

We know where you are.

We know where you are.

You come out.

You are prisoner.

You have very good right.

If not, we you come to get.

English uni.

We know where you are.

You come out. You are prisoner.

You have a very good right.

That's a laugh.

The poor gook,

he was probably trying to warn us.

He was trying to warn us, and you shot him.

That should just about roust out

every Nip in the area.

Come on! Come on! Snap out of it!

He's just the first of 'em!

You've really done it this time, Whitaker.

You've got the biggest souvenir of them all.

Take that home and hang it up on your front room wall.

Shut up!

We've heard enough from you!

Johnno, you take 'em out!

Right.

Come on, then.

It's just a corpse.

Let's have you, then!

Leave what you haven't got and get a move on!

How about you, Mitch?

I'll cover the rear.

If they're around us,

most likely they'll come from down there.

Keep them moving.

Right.

Come on, Bamforth! Get a move on!

All right, leave him with me.

Go on, get going. We'll catch you up.

All right, then.

Come on!

The rest of you, let's get going.

Sorry I blew my top a while back, boy.

Oh, you Welsh nitwit.

Go on, then.

Come on. Come on. Come on.

Let's get going.

MacLeish, bring up the rear.

Bring my rifle, Taff.

Come on, come on, come on. Speed it up, boys.

Poor bastard.

Him?

No. You. Me.

All of us.

Yeah.

Come on.

Come on, come on, come on.

Get a move on.

Get back! Get back!

All hell's got loose back there.

We better go on, Johnno.

We don't know what's out there.

We know what's back there.

Right.

Come on, then.

Back here, all of you!

When I fire, run!

All right! Sammy?

Johnstone: Sam!

Back into the mine. It's the only chance we've got.

But Sammy's still out there.

I can't help that now. Now, come on!

Corporal, we know there are more Japs back in there!

But we've got to tie up with Mitch.

We can't stick it out here. It' the only chance--

What the hell can Mitch do for us now?

It's his responsibility! I warned him!

I told him we should have hoofed it back hours ago!

It's up to him now. Now, come on.

Now!

Uhh!

We can't stay here.

One bullet and that lot will send it sky-high.

You get back. I'll give you covering fire.

Mitchem: I'm coming back!

The yellow bastards are all around us!

Hey, Mitch--

Get down!

What the hell are you doing back here?

Where's the patrol?

The place is loaded with Japs back there, too!

Oh, there ain't no patrol.

He's on his bloody own.

Mitch...

Mitch, there was nothing I could do.

We'd had it.

Look, the patrol came through.

There was a sniper up in a tree.

MacLeish was shot.

And it was Smith and Whitaker--

Uhh!

Uhh!

Mitch!

Aah!

Christ.

Don't be a fool, Bammo.

Do we have to get killed? Let's pack it in.

Why, Bammo?

Why do we all have to get lumbered?!

Let's turn it in, Bammo!

Come on, then!

Here it is!

Have this!

Bamforth!

Bammo?

Bammo?

Come on.

Come on, Bammo.

Bammo?

Stop it!

Here.

Here, look.

Look at this.

Come on.

Look at-- Look at this.

Look.

Subtitles: mitbrille Karagarga@2014