All language subtitles for Carry.on.Sergeant.1958.1080p.BluRay.x265-RARBG

"Congratulations.

"May all your troubles be little ones.

"And, remember, the first
then years are the worst.

With love from Granny."

"In accordance with warning
notice already sent to you,

"you are... required to report

to Heathercrest...
National Service Depot."

Charlie, it's your call-up.

What do you mean my call-up?

But it's our wedding day!

How can it be my call-up, Dad?

You sent off an application
for a 28-day extension

for the wedding.

Didn't you?

Me? No, you did.

I asked you to do it.

No, you didn't, you said you would.

Why doesn't
somebody do something?

Ah! Please!

There's a draft!

But it's stifling in here.

Please. My eardrums are
very thin, very weak.

The least suspicion of a draft
and I'm finished!

Cor.

Thanks, mate.

Ah! Don't!

Now what?

Please.

Do you mind not smoking?

It affects me. I've got a weak stomach.

Now, look here...

Have a catarrh pastille.

I haven't got catarrh.

You don't know you're living, mate.

You going to a hospital?

Into the army.

- The army?
- Yeah.

So am I.

How'd you pass the medical? Influence?

Medical.

A farce. A criminal farce!

A-1. Me.

A-flaming-1.

Army doctors. Ha!

I'll tell you, mate, two of everything

you should have two of and you're in.

We don't deserve
your congratulations.

It was luck. Pure luck.

What a lot of rubbish.

Luck doesn't enter into it.

Sure it does, Grimmy.

Take you, now.

Six years a Training Sergeant,

and never had a Champion Platoon.

It's bad luck.

Oh, no, it isn't.

Listen, Paddy, every man has

the instinct of soldiering in him.

- Right?
- Right enough.

Well, you've all done it.

You've all had a Champion Platoon

at one time or another.

So shall I, with my next platoon.

Why? What's the hurry?

It's my last platoon.

I shall be leaving the army in ten weeks,

and it's my last chance.

Don't set your heart on it.

Now listen sound, Marshal,
when I want your advice...

Like to bet on it?

Well, I don't bet as a rule.

What, scared?

Not a bit of it.

All right, 50 quid says
no Champion Platoon.

Sergeant Grimshawe, sir!

Can I give you a lift to the mess, sir?

Well, that's extremely
civil of you, Sergeant.

Thank you, sir.

Let me take the bag, sir.

Why, thank you, Sergeant.

Bye, darling.

Well, a very nice place
you have here, Sergeant.

Finest depot in the command, sir.

That's encouraging.

Well, Sergeant, where do I report?

That's the officers' mess over there, sir.

Very nice too, but I happen
to be a national serviceman.

Get in the back of that truck, will you?

Fast!

Thank you. Thank you, Sergeant.

Charlie.

Charlie!

- Did you see?
- What?

- Did you hear?
- What? Where?

Sh-she called to me.

From a laundry van.

Look, look, keep calm, Charlie boy.

Look... just a little while longer, eh?

You'll see the MO.

Oh, stop pawing me. I'm not ill.

I did see her.

Go 'round the back, go on.

'Round the side, go on.

Yes, and about time too, I'm thinking.

You're the new girl, aren't you?

Are y-you the manageress?

No, I'm Nora.

My name's Mary.

I don't care what your name is as long as

you can cut chips.

Your overall's in that cupboard.

Thanks.

Here, where's your labor exchange card?

It's coming in the post.

Don't you know how it works, love?

YES.

Oh, I'm not really the new girl,

but please don't give me away.

Please help me.

Oh, there, there, love.

Come on, tell Nora all about it.

Now, look! You've got to face up to it.

You are an obsessional
with visual complications.

Look, once and for all,
I got married this morning,

there was a muddle over my deferment.

Now, Mary must have
followed me to the camp.

She... she's a very...
very determined girl.

Well, personally, chaps, I believe him.

Please.

Do you mind belting up?

You don't know nothing about psychiatry.

Possibly not, but I do know
a little bit about women.

You know, there are
certain chaps, old boy,

who are always being chased by women.

I know exactly how you feel.

Oh, thank you.

Judging by their names,
they should be a fine lot.

There's a lot in a man's name, Corporal.

Gives him character.

Strong, Sage, Bailey, Heywood, Galloway,

Golightly.

Golightly?

Golightly.

What's in a name?

Corporal Copping,
you know how much depends

on the success of this platoon, don't you?

Fifty quid, Sergeant.

That's only money.

There's my reputation, and perhaps, uh,

your recommendation
for promotion when I leave

and possibly a slight percentage
for you, if I win.

When you win, Sergeant.

That's the spirit, Copping.

Now, uh, let's have a look
at our Champion Platoon,

shall we?

All right, stand by your beds!

All right, at ease, lads.

I'm Sergeant Grimshawe.

And this is Corporal Copping.

Right?

Now, I'm a quiet, reasonable, humane man.

I know.

My mother told me.

Oh, yes.

I had a mother and a father,
even though I'm a sergeant.

And there's only one thing that rubs me up

the wrong way, and that's a man

that doesn't pull his weight
in my platoon.

In that respect,
I'm a veritable Jekyll and Hyde.

But somehow, looking around me,

I don't think that nasty side

of my character's
going to rouse itself this time.

I judge a body of men on sight.

And I don't mind telling you lads,

I feel distinctly encouraged
at the prospects.

Don't disappoint me.

Right, any questions?

Can I report sick, please?

What's your name?

Strong.

Horace Strong.

Corporal Copping!

Sergeant!

Private, uh, Strong,
on sick report tomorrow.

Anyone else?

Oh, please, sir.

And don't call me sir.

Sergeant to you.

Are you feeling sick, too?

Oh, no, Sergeant.

Um, I want some leave.

Leave?

Why, you've only just arrived, son.

Oh, but it's vital, Sergeant.
Compassionate.

You see, w-what happened...

All right, all right, you don't
have to tell the world.

Capping-

Sergeant!

This man to see the Company Commander.

Well, thank you, Sergeant.

Not now! When you're sent for.

Get back in line.

But, Sergeant...

Quiet! Or I never did.

What's that?

Haven't you ever seen
a guitar before, Sergeant?

Where have you been living?

Right here, you numbskull,
where you're gonna live

for the next ten weeks,

with that banjo out of sight.

Banjo?

Yes. Out of sight. Understand?

I dig.

You'll dig, all right.

I'll see to that.

We've met.

Yes, Sergeant.

And no more skylarking, right?

Or you're for it, got it?

YES.

Sergeant.

- Corporal!
- Sergeant!

Empty bed. Where's that man?

Uh... I don't know, Sergeant.

What's his name?

His name's Golightly.

I might have known it. Find him.

Sergeant.

Golightly!!

At the double!

Private Golightly!

Oh!

I'm so sorry.

Hello. Did someone call?

Golightly, where have you been?

Must I say?

Come here.

At the double!

Where have you been?

Well, I...

Got locked in somewhere.

You see, I...

Oh, dear. Have you hurt yourself?

I've got some lotion here.

Quiet, the lot of you!

Oh, do stop shouting, please.

You there!

Is that remark addressed to me?

Stand to attention when I'm talking.

- Why?
- Why?

Don't ask why, do as you're told,

you're in the army, son.

Oh, not quite.

I'm still a civilian,

with civilian rights.

Now, don't shout, please.

What is your name?

Please.

Bailey. James Bailey.

- How do you do?
- Fine.

Absolutely bloody fine.

But I'll feel even better
once you're in uniform.

Thank you, Sergeant.

All right, carry on, Corporal.

As you were.

The sergeant doesn't seem to like us.

I wonder why.

I don't know.

Why does it happen to me?

Isn't there any justice?

Oh, you don't want to worry, Sergeant.

- It'll be all right.
- It'll be what?

You were there.

You saw them.

Out of 24 men, I'm lumbered
with one hypochondriac,

one natural-born candidate
for the glasshouse,

a rock 'n' roller, a shadow of a man

haunted by Lord knows what,

and a popsy-chasing layabout,
and some little idiot

who gets himself locked in...

well, you know where.

Yes, but I mean, look...

Any one of those clots
could sabotage the squad,

and I've got them all. About turn.

We're 24% non-effective before we start.

How in the name of
Aldershot can it work out?

Well, I mean, it's got to.

Your reputation depends on it.

My reputation, my foot!

What about my 50 quid
riding on that lot, eh?

That's true.

Oh, well. There's only one thing for it.

We'll have to chase

the living daylights out of them.

Oh, no, no, no. That's no good.

That'd be fatal.

Half the mob in the
guardroom's no good to me.

Yes, but Sergeant...

Will you have hush!

No, Copping, we've got to be subtle.

Subtle.

We must be kind.

Considerate.

Kind?

Yes.

These are delicate blooms, Copping.

- Are they?
- Yes.

Hello.

You must be the new lot.

Greetings, cat.

Cat?

No, me name's not Cat.

Are you in our platoon?

No, not Cat. Brown.

Herbert Brown.

What did you say?

Are you in our platoon?

No.

I just live here.

Yeah, I think I can understand him.

You, uh, received a severe blow

on the head as a child, didn't you?

No, that was me brother.

Horace, old man, can't you forget

psychiatry for one minute?

I was only trying to help him.

Oh, I don't need any help, thanks.

Well, ta-ra, fellas.

See you at the NAAFI perhaps.

Hello, Corp.

Now, don't get lost.

'Ere, Corporal.

Who was that soldier?

Ta.

That was no soldier, that was Herbert.

I give up.

Don't worry, so did the army.

Here we are, chaps.

- Help yourselves.
- Thank you.

I wonder where Charlie's got to.

With his wife, of course.

Love will find a way.

Look here, mate. You don't really think

that that woman's on this camp, do you?

I tell you, it's just...

An hallucination. We know.

All right, all right. You can laugh.

I should never have let him go.

He's probably cutting his throat now.

Bleeding to death in the ablutions.

I hope not.

I have to sluice them out every morning.

I clean up everywhere in the camp.

That's me job.

Are you a regular?

No. National Service.

'Ere, what about your training?

Don't do it any more.

Haven't done it for...

for months.

Oh, and I want to try again.

Again?

How many courses have you been through?

Three. I think.

But now I...

Look.

There's my "excused webbing" chit.

My "excused marching" chit.

"Excused handling of firearms" chit.

Chit for...

Blimey!

You're just an heap of chits.

Well, go on, say it.

I'm crackers.

No luck?

Does it look as if I've had any luck?

This place is vast.

I've tramped over every inch of it

and not so much as a lock of her hair.

Well, go on, say it.

I'm crackers.

It was all my imagination.

Oh, well, now,
this is a great step forward,

Charlie boy.

You see, now that you realize

there's something wrong with you,

well, there's a chance of a cure.

Yes, now, you are a, uh...

uxoriamaniac,

obsessed with the idea of marriage.

Wouldn't you be, if you were
married this morning?

Oh, shut up, please.

Who's this?

That's Herbert.

- Hello, Herbert.
- Hi.

- Let's get drunk.
- Dangerous.

Dangerous.

Cor.

Drinking on top of your obsession.

Why don't you shut up?

It's her.

It's Mary.

He's off again. Stop him.

Charlie.

Mary.

Oh, Charlie.

Don't worry, miss. I'll take care of him.

Very sad case.

He's very... very unbalanced.

Don't you talk that way about my husband.

Husband?

Good night, Horace.

Anything I can do for you, soldier?

But, darling, how on earth
did you get here?

Never mind how I got here.

I'm here.

And tonight's our wedding night.

You don't mean...

Darling, you don't think I came here

just to become a NAAFI girl.

Well, no, but...

but how?

Where?

Well, I mean, there's over
a dozen blokes in my hut.

Nora. She's arranged everything.

Ooh.

Who's Nora?

What's the matter?

I'm in love.

Congratulations.

Must be the aura created
by your happiness.

After three years wearing out my eyeballs,

looking at each lot of
new recruits that comes in,

at last, I've found him.

We're very happy for you.

It was that chap that was with you.

Horace?

Hor...

Oh.

Oh, time stands still
when I say that name.

Not for Charlie and me it doesn't.

Eh?

Oh.

Oh, yes, of course.

Now, listen. It's all arranged.

There's a spare room,

but you've got to be ever so careful...

Darling.

Don't pretend you're asleep.

Darling.

Oh, darling, don't tease.

Wouldn't you rather have
the light on, Charlie, darling?

Oh. Bashful.

Mary.

Darling.

Right. Now, then, what's wrong with you?

Yeah, it's my floating kneecap.

All right. Take off your trousers.

Ahh, efficient.

We do our best.

You can go in when you hear the bell.

Righto.

- What's wrong with you?
- Fell on me elbow.

I don't think it's broken.

Take off your tunic, then.
Roll up your sleeves.

- Clean that up.

Oh! Oh!

What's the matter?

Why didn't you warn me?

Corporal!

What's the matter with this man?

I-I'm sorry, Captain Clark.

Oh, the shock. Oh, me heart.
Me heart, me heart.

Hurry up, man. Hurry up.

I want to change my doctor.

This isn't the National Health Service.

Either you see Captain Clark,
or you don't report sick at all.

It's up to you.

Left. Left, wheel!

Halt! Halt!

Halt!

So sorry. I was miles away.

You know how it is sometimes.

Come back here, you stupid,
sleepwalking son of a...

Delicate blooms.

Private Golightly,

now you really must try
and concentrate from now on.

Right?

Oh, yes. I'll try.

Thank you.

All right, go in there, and get your kit!

Dis... missed!

Uh-uh. Concentrate.

Give this to the corporal on your way out.

Oh, thank you, ma'am.

You've come to the right place.

Just in time.

For physiotherapy?

For physical jerks.

Get on with training, soldier.

There's nothing wrong with your knee.

But, ma'am.

I can feel it floating!

Let me know when you feel it sinking.

, one. Beret, one.

Towels, one., two.

- Thank you.
- Towels, one.

Dressing, field, one.

Drawers, cellular. Pairs, three.

Knives, clasp, one.

- Got everything?
- Yes.

Sign there.

Drawers, cellular. Pairs, three.

I say, really. Does one have to?

Yes, one does.

Next!

Knives, clasp -one.

Ooh, thank you.

I say, look.

A knife for getting things
out of a horse's foot. Hmm!

I've always wanted one of these.

Argh!

Field dressing, one.

Size of head?

I haven't the faintest idea.

I never wear a hat.

Big.

Charming.

Next.

One housewife.

Housewife?

Oh, Mary.

That's the lot, boys. Tea break.

What do you want?

I want me kit, Sergeant.

Why are you late?

Well, I had to report sick.

You fit now?

The doctor says I am.

She'd better be right.

Why?

Take a deep breath.

You're about to become
the fastest kitted-out soldier

in the British Army.

Hey, boys, one recruit coming up.

Full kit, on the double.

Before you go to tea.

Okay, boys?

Right, let's go!

Cor.

- Hey, mate.
- Hmm?

Do me a favor, please.

What's that?

Point me in the direction
of my barrack room.

Ta.

Right.

Left, right, left, right,
left, right, right wheel!

What's the matter with you?

Get into line up there, will you?

Platoon...

halt!

Stand still!
What's the matter with that man?

Moving about?

What do you think it is, a dance floor?

Platoon, left... turn!

All present and correct, Sergeant.

Platoon, stand at ease!

Stand easy.

Now, you're about to meet
your Company Commander,

Captain Potts.

Some men live for drink,
and some for women.

Quite frankly, I don't know why some men

bother to live at all.

There's no doubt, however,
why Captain Potts lives.

It's for efficiency.

He's known throughout the command

as Potts the Perfect.

The Perfect Potts.

All right, that's enough, that's enough.

Now, you lads are
in uniform for the first time,

and I think you'll all agree with me

that you don't yet look like soldiers.

It would be stupid of me to expect that.

It would that. He's very fair.

That man there!

Private Golightly,
someone should have told you.

You're not to talk when you're on parade.

It's not the custom.

So don't do it. Understand?

Oh, yes, I understand.

Right.

Now, where was I? What was I saying?

How stupid you are.

Stop talking on parade, will you?

Or I'll carve the Queen's Regulations

all over your scalp.

Didn't you hear what I just
told you, Private Golightly?

Right.

Now, it would be nice,
when Captain Potts arrives,

if you could stand at ease
and attention properly.

Show him what you can do.

Be efficient.

So, we'll try it once or twice, shall we?

Corporal!

Demonstrate.

Now, pay attention, all of you.

Stand at ease!

Attention!

Oh, good. Very good.

All right, Corporal.

Now, let's see what you can do.

Platoon, brace yourselves,
brace yourselves.

Platoon, attention!

Private Golightly,

don't go quite so lightly next time.

Very good.

Joke's over. Joke's over.

Platoon, stand at ease!

Attention!

Get up, you clumsy, quarter-witted,

half-baked mooncalf!

One more hammer-toed move
like that and I'll...

Uh...

Fifty quid.

Delicate blooms.

All right, now. Here comes Captain Potts.

Do your best, lads.

Company, at ease.

Platoon, attention!

Well, all of you are half asleep!

Like a lot of flamingos.

Not half as clever.

Flamingos go to sleep on one leg.

You lot are all asleep on two!

How many legs does
a flamingo go to sleep on?

- Um...
- Slow, slow.

- Quick, quick, slow.

Silence.

Alert mind, plus responsive body,

equals efficient soldier.

Who are you?

Galloway, sir.

That's a useless answer.

Two factors omitted, number and rank.

A soldier without a number and rank

is like a man without a soul.

Try again. Who are you?

4277309, Private Galloway, sir.

What, no Christian name? Are you heathen?

Andy. A.

Slow. Watch this man, Sergeant.

- Yes.
- Slow-witted.

Stand up. 'Shun.

At ease. 'Shun.

At ease. 'Shun. At ease. 'Shun.

Still in dreamland.

- Do you dream?
- Yes, sir.

- What about?
- Blood.

- Whose?
- Mine.

Timorous, spirit of aggression
needs rousing here, Sergeant.

You should dream of the enemy's blood.

Now, then, close your eyes.
What's the first thing

- comes into your head?
- Blood.

- Whose?
- Yours.

Fine. Huh?

Uh... M-M-Mine! Mine, sir.

- The "emeny's."
- Be decisive!

Try sleeping on your stomach.

Proper rest plus exercise
equals integrated instincts.

Who are you?

4277312, Private Sage, C, sir.

Now, say it backwards.

Uh... Uh...

Come on, come on, come on!

3-1-2...

Uh... 7-3... 3-7...

If you can't think backwards,

how do you expect to think the proper way?

Watch this man, Sergeant.

Rigid mental processes
achieve flexibility. Flexibility

plus discipline equals
common and initiative.

It does, sir?

I mean, it does, sir.

It does, yes.

- You.
- Yes?

What? Who are you?

James Bailey. BSc, Economics.

- Your number.
- I'm not proud of it.

It was given to me. I earned my degree.

Your rank!

Well, that's a matter of opinion.

Look at this man!

You've nothing to complain of.

Look at the suit they've given me.

Look at this.

Plumped on my head,

without even the pretense of fitting.

As a good soldier,
I accepted it without complaint.

As a good officer, what do you think?

Well, pride in appearance plus confidence

in one's superior equals good start.

Fall out. Get yourself a new hat.

- Excuse me.
- Of course.

What?

Well? Who are you?

4277298, Private Heywood, M, sir.

Heywood? Ever heard of General Heywood?

My father, sir.

Really? Rear Admiral Heywood?

My grandfather, sir.

Air Commodore Heywood.

- My uncle, sir.
- Ah, quick test.

What's the first thing
comes into your head?

Women, sir.

You're a soldier,
by tradition and instinct.

Watch this man, Sergeant.

Right, left, right.

Atten...

tion!

Platoon, right...

turn!

I want you to go in there

and stand by your beds
for a hut and a kit inspection!

Platoon,

dis... missed!

Well, here we are, chaps.

Here's how we lay out our kit.

One diagram among 24 people?

Not very helpful.

Hello, Jim! Are you joining us?

I thought you'd be in the cooler by now,

all nice and individualistic.

I changed my mind.

Sociologically, it's important
for me to find out

just how far one can retain

One's individuality in the army.

And biologically,
it's important I get my leave.

- Oh, no.

Please, fellows,
let's make this inspection good.

If anything goes wrong,
my leave might go up

- the spout as well.

Poor old Charlie.

Watch yourself, you big, clumsy ox.

Oh, cut the bull, Charlie.

Imagine you being worried
about keeping your bed tidy.

Get out of it.

Here you are, Horace,
you'd better check yours.

Properly.

Let's see. Now, for the hut.

Tables, deal -two.

Yeah.

Here you are, you can have this.

Oh, ta.

Would you like me to give you a hand?

I seem to have more kit than anyone else.

Pete, why don't you go and help Charlie?

Okay, Miles. Thank you.

Extinguishers, fire -two.

Extinguishers, fire -two.

Peter...

there's no fire extinguishers.

P-perhaps this place is fireproof.

Yeah, but it's not Potts-proof.

"Extinguishers, fire -two," it says,

and extinguishers, fire -two,
he'll want to see.

I'm not taking any chances.

Come on, we're gonna borrow a couple.

Oh, bear up, clear.

Perhaps he's had his interview
for leave by now

and you'll be off together in no time.

Better late than never.

Oh, I shouldn't go on like this.

At least I'm married.

While you...

Oh, I'm suffering the pangs of first love.

Painful, but...

oh, it's exquisite.

Don't worry about me, clear.

Or Charlie. Oh!

There he is, look.

Oh, Mary.

Oh, I'm so relieved to see you.

Is everything all right, darling?

No.

No fire extinguishers.

- Fire extinguishers?
- Everything depends on them.

I'm only borrowing them.

I... You see...

Goodbye.

Ta-ta.

Heywood.

We must concentrate on Heywood.
I wasn't wrong.

He's got officer written all over him.

Yes, if we can get him recommended

for Officer Cadet, we're home and dry.

Exactly, and it'll help

towards Champion Platoon rating

and maybe in spite of it

Ten hut!

- Carry on, Sergeant.
- Very good, sir.

Stand by your beds!

Sergeant?

Sir.

Turn it off!

Turn it off! Turn it off! Oh!

Turn it off!

Oh! Oh!

Left, right! Left, right!

Party, halt!

Private Sage, sir.

Ah, Sage.

Sir.

Application for leave
on your first day, man?

Why?

Compassionate reasons, sir.

You see, my girl...

You want leave to get married, do you?

Oh, no, sir. No, sir.

It's just that I want to...

arrange things.

Oh...

You dirty rotter.

Oh, n-n-no, sir.

Please, sir. Y-you don't understand.

I understand perfectly.

Respectable girl plus sex-mad youth

multiplied by a charabanc outing

equals three lives ruined.
See the chaplain.

Oh, but I-I've already
seen the chaplain, sir.

Is this true, Sergeant?

No, sir. Not to my knowledge, sir.

Look, you'd better watch yourself, Sage.

Lying won't help you, you know.

I'm not lying, sir.

Then why did you say
you'd seen the chaplain?

Well, I have seen the chaplain, sir.

N-n-not this chaplain, sir.

Oh!

Oh, army chaplain not good enough, eh?

Oh, no, sir. Please, listen, sir.

Well, come on, then. Sharp. Sharp.

I'm already married, sir.

Oh, and stringing along with another girl.

No. No, sir.

I... I... I am married, sir, but...

I'm not married, sir,
i-if you know what I mean.

I don't know.

How can you be married and not married?

Eh?

Well, it's easy, sir,
when you got called up

on your wedding day.

Oh, well, uh...

Yes, well, I think
I'm in the picture now, Sage.

Maneuvers canceled, huh?

I sh-should have applied
for a deferment, sir,

but... it got all mixed up and...

Oh, please, sir.

If I could just have a few hours,

un, days leave, sir.

Oh, please, sir.

Well, I think in the circumstances,
Sergeant,

seven days' leave.

Any questions?

- Now, sir?
- No, no, no no.

- Carry on, Sergeant.
- Very good, sir.

Party, left turn!

Left, right, left, right, left,
right, left, right, left, right.

Get them up. Come on, come on.

Faster than that!

Your knees! Up, up, up!

All right, stop!

All right, now, listen.

When I say move, I want you
through those beams

and round behind the inner semicircle.

All right. Move!

All right now, move!

Quick.

First four up the ropes.
First four up the ropes.

Quick, quick, quick.
All right. Up you go. Go on.

Up you go. That's it.

Come on, get up there.

Corporal, have I got to go
all the way up there?

What's the matter with you? Sick?

What, me?

Come on, get up.

All right.

- Ooh! Ooh!
- What are you doing?

- The strain!
- Get off!

Oh! Oh!

Corporal.

Corporal.

Corporal.

Oh, no.

No hope.

Not today.

You're all right.

But, but...

Doctor!

I can feel it, a definite thump.

Regularly? A boom-boom-boom?

Boom-boom-boom. Th-that's it.

YES.

Strong, that's your
heart beating normally.

Hello.

Hello.

Lovely day.

Passable kind of day, I suppose.

If you haven't got great spots

in front of your eyes.

Oh, never mind.

I'm sure it won't interfere
with your reading

your letters when the post comes.

Letters?

Post?

- Me?
- Why not?

Don't tell me that you haven't
got a girlfriend

or um... wife?

Me?

You haven't?

Oh, good.

G-uh...

From a honeymoon back to this.

- Must be terrible.
- Yeah.

We'll have a whip-round,
buy him a hot-water bottle.

I say, he does look pale.

Well, wouldn't you?

Thinking of nine more weeks
without your little wifey?

How was it, Charlie boy?

Well, if you really want to know...

We spent a good deal of time
in labor exchanges,

fixing Mary up with a proper
temporary job in the NAAFI here

for the next nine weeks.

Anyone for bayonet practice?

Right, now!

Think of all the things you love!

Freedom.

The day of your release.

The Cup Final.

Me.

Anything you like.

This evil monster
stands between you and it.

He'll kill you rather than see you get it.

So, you have to kill him.

You have no choice. Corporal.

Yaaah!

Argh! Argh! Argh!

Right, you're all right.

That's it.

All right, now. One at a time.

Remember you're soldiers,

fighting for everything you love.

Fueled with noble savagery.

All right, let's have ya!

En garde!

Charge!

Oh, dear.

On your feet!

Catch!

Right, next!

En garde!

Charge!

Aaahhh!

Get back in line, will you?

Not that way.

'Round the back of the dummy.

All right, next.

En garde!

Charge!

Argh! Argh!

Pick it up.

En garde!

Charge!

Aaahhh!

Next.

En garde!

Charge!

Don't you think
this is a trifle out of date

in a world bristling
with H-bombs, Sergeant?

Shut up!

Aah! Now, then. You beast.

Pest. Commoner.

Have at you, varlet.

Hand back that Cup Final ticket.

Private Bailey, in answer
to your question,

I'd back him against the H-bomb any day.

You beast.

Peasant. Commoner.

Well, don't just stand there.
Help me get him out.

You pirate. Take that. And that.

Let go, this is my turn.

Let go!

Do you want to kill someone?

Now, this is nice and slow,
so even you lot can manage.

All right, Corporal.

Demonstrate.

Now, pay attention.

Slow... march!

All right, Corporal.

Now, this is used on funerals.

Work at it.

If you're very lucky,
you'll be doing it at mine.

- Shut up!

Now, let's try it, shall we?

Platoon!

Platoon, to attention!

Left turn!

Slow...

march!

Left, right.

Left, right. Left...

Ooh!

- You kicked me.
- I didn't mean it.

It was your fault.

Halt!

You shut up.

Blind, lame, that's what you are!

All of you!

Now, stand still!

Now, as you were.

Right, dress off.

At the double.

You misbegotten misfits.

What do you think this is?

What do you think I'm made of?

Iron?

I ought to bung the lot
of you in the guardroom.

For persistent, unrelenting, blundering,

malicious stupidity!

I'll paralyze the lot of you!

Look at you.

Standing as if you're pregnant!

Wouldn't surprise me after the way

I've been mucked about.

Shut up!

Sergeant.

All right.

Let's try it again, shall we?

Platoon!

Platoon, attention!

All right, now pay attention.

This morning, we're going on
with lesson one

on the light machine gun
commonly known as the Bren.

Now, during this period,

I'm gonna show you how to strip it...

and assemble it.

Right, now, for normal stripping,

we divide the gun into four major parts.

Number one...

What's the matter with you, soldier?

Smell of the oil.

I've got an allergy to it.

Well, I've heard of
some dodges in my time.

Uh, excuse me.

What's your trouble?

Well, just a suggestion.

Why doesn't Private Strong
change places with me?

Are you taking the mickey?

Well, let's see, shall we?

Private Strong is affected
by the odor of oil,

I am not.

I make a suggestion intended
to help him and you.

Is that taking the mickey...

Sergeant?

Does it really turn you up, son?

Something rotten.

Yeah.

What are you sitting down there for?

Change places with the man at the back!

Now, then.

Number one.

Remove the piston group
and place it on the right-hand

side of the gun.

Right.

Number two.

The barrel group.

Lift up the barrel-locking nut
as high as it'll go.

Take up the carrying handle,

and ease the barrel forward
until it is clear.

And place it on the right-hand side

of the piston group.

Number three.

The butt.

Lift up the gun gently,
and pull the butt back away

from the body and lay it
on the right-hand side

of the barrel group.

Right, number four.

To remove the last two groups,

grip the bi-pod in the left hand,

and turn the body of the gun towards you,

and it'll come apart.

Place the body of the gun
on the right-hand side

of the butt group,

and the bi-pod on the
right-hand side of the body.

There you are.

You now have your gun stripped down

into its four major groups.

Now, are there any...

Hey, you at the back!

Hey, you!

S-S-Sir. Sergeant!

What are you gawping out
of that window for?

I was listening, Sergeant, really, I was.

Then you'll know all about it, won't you?

Up on your feet!

Come here.

So, you know all about the Bren gun, eh?

Yes, Sergeant.

There it is. Look at it.

I've stripped it down for you, haven't I?

Yes, Sergeant.

Well, put it together again!

Sergeant.

Shut up, all of you!

Well...

looks as though you was
listening, after all.

- I wasn't listening.
- Eh?

I used to work in the factory
where they make these things.

Good evening.

Evening.

Good evening, Mrs. Sage.

If you say that again,
I'll give you a thick ear.

No one's supposed to know.

Oh. I'm sorry.

I'd like a bar of chocolate, please, miss.

I say.

She didn't ask for the money.

Four pence.

Oh...

Well, look.

You see?

I c-can't keep my hand closed.

Every time I shut it, look, it flies open.

Because you want it to open.

No, I don't!

Look, this is a terrible affliction.

Oh! An hand with a will of its own.

It's...

It's psychosomatic.

Or maybe it's because
the t-tendons are like elastic.

Nonsense!

Oh.

Look, this one's starting now.

Open your hands.

Listen to me, Strong.

This is frightening!

There's nothing wrong with your hands!

I want an X-ray.

Dismissed.

You've got no feeling for the sick.

I remind you, I am an officer.

And I remind you that I'm a sick man!

Dismissed.

See you tomorrow.

Fire!

Number two gun!

Fire!

Number three gun! Fire!

Detail, unload!

Two short of target and one outer?

That's bad. Wasteful.

This squad plus ammunition

equals increased army estimates.

Number one gun clear, sir.

Number two gun clear, sir.

Number three gun clear, sir.

Carry on, Sergeant.

Detail, change.

Number one gun, load.

I said number one gun, load!

Get down.

But the ground's damp, Sergeant.

I suffer from recurrent rheumatism.

You'll suffer from life imprisonment

if you don't get down!

Now, get down there and load.

- Uuh!
- Number two gun, load!

Raise your back sight, man.

He said your back sight.

Number three gun, load!

Excuse me.

So sorry. I'm all thumbs today.

Oh, Champion Platoon.

Carry on, Corporal.

All right. Now, just like that.

One at a time. No delays.

Let's have you.

- Thank you, Sergeant.
- Get back in line!

Right, next!

All right, next one.

Uuh!

Next!

Jump, man, jump.

Uh!

Jump, man, jump!

Come on, jump!

It's all right for you lot.

You haven't had a go yet.

Oh, my bones are weak.

Jump!

Let go. Let go.

Let go!

Nora would have given
anything to have been

on that rope with Horace.

Short of being trapped together like that,

she'll never get with him.

He even avoids going into the NAAFI now.

Oh, Charlie.

I do wish we could do something for Nora.

She's so terribly unhappy.

Darling, I'd like to help,

but if he won't even talk to her...

He could be...

what did you say, "trapped"?

Did I say that?

Well, what are you going
to trap him with, a net?

A rope.

Oh... oh, now wait a minute, darling.

Now, we mustn't interfere.

Shh, darling. I'm thinking.

You haven't finished
the bread yet.

Oh, never mind about that.

But you've got an important
message to deliver.

From Sergeant Grimshawe.

I was told to r-report here
f-for fatigues.

Oh.

Well, come on in then.

You can help with these, if you like.

Jim, what's that word?

Obtuse.

What's it mean?

Unteachable.

Oh.

That's me.

I wish I was like you.

You're clever.

Knowledge in a nutshell, it says.

But I can't get it into my nut.

Jim...

I've been meaning to ask you for weeks.

What's the secret?

What secret?

How to learn.

There's no secret, you...

you just learn.

I don't.

I've been in three squads

and I don't seem to learn nothing.

Take the rifle, for instance.

Sergeant Russell says
with one of these things

in my mitt, I'm a danger
to everyone except the enemy.

Then he's an idiot.

No, I'm the idiot.

Sergeant Russell said I was.

So did Sergeant O'Brien.

Do you mean to tell me
that neither of them

could show you a simple thing
like the workings of a rifle?

Oh, they showed me.

So did Sergeant Grimshawe.

But I was always at the back,

and they don't half talk fast.

Now, look.

There's nothing to it.

For a start, this is the safety catch.

Now, nothing can go wrong
once it's this way.

Oh.

That way.

What are you on fatigues for?

'Cause I wouldn't let go of a rope.

Don't talk much, do you?

What's there to talk about?

Oh...

life.

Life. Huh.

Infection.

Decay...

and death, that's life.

What's your name?

What's it to you?

I'm just an anonymous
blob of khaki, that's all.

I'm just a...

No, you're not.

I know your name, anyway.

How?

I made it my business to find out.

Why?

Can't you guess?

There. That's it.

- Looks easy enough.
- It is.

Actually, it's quite well designed.

Let me have a go.

- Like that, Jim?
- That's it.

Cor.

I've been trying to tell you
ever since I first saw you.

You're on me toe.

Oh, I'm sorry. But you're in my heart.

- Here.
- Well, don't do that.

You'll do yourself an injury.

Oh, what does it matter?

If you don't respond to me,
I might as well be dead.

Oh, Horace, I'm a woman,

violent and passionate, and I'm yours.

Let's got on with the fatigues.

There aren't any. It was a trick.

A t... a trick?

Oh, I was desperate to be alone with you.

The message from the Sergeant

it was from me.

Wha... Charlie!

Charlie, you rotten s...

Oh, Horace. Oh, I do love you.

What? I'll murder him. I will.

I'll breathe germs on him, I'll...

Why are you so frightened of love, Horace?

Let me get out.

I'm ill. I've got to take a pill.

Oh, no, it's not a pill
that you need, my darling.

It's me.

Oh, imagine the bliss of
having someone to love you,

and someone to take care of you.

Please.

Someone might hear you.

Oh, let the whole world hear.

But we must give ourselves
time to get to know each other.

Say about, um...

half an hour?

What's your name?

Oh! Oh, at last.

It's Nora.

- Nora.
- Hmm.

Good night!

Oh, Horace. Come back.

Ah, there's nothing to it.

With his background, Heywood
will be an absolute cakewalk...

Hey! That man!

Horace!

Horace, come back.

Horace!

Well, I'm glad he's useful at something.

Left, right! Left, right! Party, halt!

Private Heywood, sir.

Uh, Heywood.

I've asked Sergeant Grimshawe
to keep an eye on you.

He has, and so have I.

And despite certain unfortunate incidents

in which you were involved, you're here.

Yes, sir.

Why, sir?

Well, can't you guess?

I haven't the faintest idea, sir.

Modest. Honest.

I think we're right about
this man, Sergeant.

Thank you, sir.

Fill this in, Heywood.

I don't have to, do I, sir?

What? Well, I...

It's not an order,
Heywood, but... surely...

Oh, well, that's all right, then, sir.

I don't want to be an officer, sir.

The principle of heredity shattered.

Explain.

Well, sir, what were your father,
grandfather, and uncle?

Oh, perfect.

Potts, Potts and Potts.
Porcelain manufacturers.

And you're in the army.

Well, of course. The army's my whole life.

Principle of heredity shattered, sir.

Just like me.

I mean, my people are senior
officers, I know, sir, but...

General plus Air Commodore
plus Rear Admiral equals me,

I'm afraid, sir.

Just an ordinary National Serviceman.

I'm just not a leader of men. Sorry, sir.

Dismissed. Carry on, Sergeant.

Yes, sir.

Party, left turn. Quick march.

Left, right, left, right, left, right.

Morning.

Morning. What's wrong?

- Stomach.
- Too often?

- Not enough.
- Number nines.

- Have complications.
- Give them time.

- See you tomorrow.
- Dismissed.

Button undone.

That man!

Take your hands out of your pockets!

I beg your pardon?

Take your hands out of your pockets.

Oh, I'm so sorry, Sergeant.

Guh-gah!

Get your hair cut in the morning.

I've seen better.

'Ere, didn't he say pierce the tin?

I heard what he said.

On your feet!

Well, there's one job you
couldn't make a mess of, eh?

Well, it's not too bad. Hope for you yet.

Perseverance plus common sense equals...

Morning, Strong.

It's me scalp.

I've got a kind of nervous itch.

Oh, really?

Look.

Aren't you even gonna examine me?

No. I'm taking you for a ride.

Hey?

Come on, then.

Platoon!

Platoon, attention!

Stand them at ease, please, Sergeant.

Platoon, stand at ease!

Well, this is your last day of training.

Tomorrow you'll get proficiency tests

and a passing-out parade.

And you'll finish the worst
of all the platoons here.

Someone's got to be bottom.

Get that cut in the morning. You.

Someone's got to be bottom,
but this is absolute extremism.

Utter disgrace.

Platoon's a shambles.

Worst we've ever had here at Heathercrest.

Glad to see the back of you!

Clumsy fools plus innate idleness...

equals you!

All of you!

Carry on, Sergeant.

Well, you heard!

Gentlemen, this is the case in question.

Private Horace Strong.

He has reported sick
every clay for ten weeks.

His ailments are varied and elusive,

so far as I, a mere GP, can diagnose.

You gentlemen are specialists.

I thank you for agreeing to help

by means of a thorough examination.

He's all yours.

Oh, I... I do apologize, ma'am.

I... I've misjudged you.

You've got a real feeling for the sick.

Oh, I can't tell you
how much I appreciate...

All right, turn around.

Now, breathe deeply.

In, out.

Say 99.

Ninety... nine.

O-oi!

Something's wrong, eh?

Congratulations.

You have a perfect heart and lungs.

Wh...? No, Doctor.

My heart hangs by a thread.

By a rope, my boy.

Rope?

What's he mean?

He doesn't understand. My heart...

Lie down.

Ooh!

Good. How's that?

Remarkable. Stand up.

Stand still.

Cough.

- Aha!
- Aha!

- You see?
- Fantastic.

What is?

Your stomach's a model.

You've got a digestive system
like an incinerator.

No sign of hernia, pulse normal.

Next cubicle.

Pulse normal?

But, Doctor, I'm in a state
of nervous tension.

All the more remarkable.

Sit down.

Roll up your sleeve.

Sphygmomanometer's ready, Dr. Clark.

Mm-hmm. Good.

Sphygmom... sph... sph...?

Relax, Strong, relax.

Now, we'll see something, ma'am.

Only your blood pressure.

120.

That's high.

80.

That's low.

120 over 80. Textbook reading.

It's quite normal.

But, Doctor! Please!

The blood's singing in my ears.

I'm not surprised.
It should be very happy.

Stand there.

Ever been a blood donor?

Who'd want that?

Everybody. Hemoglobin is 100%.

I'm getting out of here?

They're just a bunch of vets.

Ah, splendid. Open up here, please.

Come along here.

That's fine. Hands on hips.

Good Lord.

Gentlemen, you must look!

Strong.

Gentlemen, look at this.

Superb!

What a rib cage!

Magnificent!

If only it were in color.

Oh, Doctor, please.

No, the machine's all wrong.

Look, my ribs are all short
and they're sharp.

I live in constant dread
of them puncturing my lungs.

Oh, out of the question!

Your bone structure
is in perfect proportion.

Besides, your lungs have
the texture of asbestos.

I'm ill. I'm ill, I tell you.

Gentlemen, there's only
one avenue left open to us.

Psychiatry.

Psychiatry!

Oh, Doctor!

You'll understand.

Yes, yes, of course. Lie down.

Relax.

What's the first thing you remember?

My mother.

- What was she doing?
- Sneezing.

I see. Now, association test.

Say whatever comes into
your mind after what I say.

- Mother.
- Cold.

- Cold.
- Sneezing.

- Sneezing.
- Me.

- You.
- Pills.

- Pills.
- Water.

- Water.
- Wet.

- Again, water.
- Washing up.

- Washing up.
- Nappy.

- Nappy.
- Nora.

Nora.

Cor...

Nora.

Hi, baby.

Come 'ere.

Whatever's the matter with you, Horace?

Are you ill or something?

Ill? What, me?

Your marbles must be loose.

Ooh, whatever's happened to you, Horace?

You answer the questions, kid.

Want to be my doll?

Doll?

Yeah.

But not the sort that goes "mama"
when I squeeze it.

Okay?

I'll have to have time to think about it.

Okay. Think.

Time's up. Through there. Move.

Oh! Oh, Horace.

What a right bunch they turned out to be.

Oh, just luck. Rotten bad luck.

I must have stood under a ladder

and kicked 13 black cats
some time or other.

Well, don't worry, Sarge,

it'll all be behind you
this time tomorrow.

Your last clay in the army.

I wish it had turned out
the way you wanted it.

You know, you at the head
of a Champion Platoon.

Yes.

It isn't given to every man
to achieve his life's ambition.

Certainly not to me.

However, I hope
when you get the other one up,

you'll have better luck than I had.

Good night.

Good night, Sarge.

Don't be daft, Herbert.

Characters like Grimshawe
don't leave the army.

They can't. They've taken root.

Listen, I heard him talking about it.

Tomorrow's his last day in the army.

Well, best of British luck to the old b...

Oh, all right, then.

Perhaps he isn't
such a bad old buzzard, is he?

Best sergeant I ever served under.

Let's give him a present.

I know what he'd like. Us.

The Champion Platoon tomorrow.

What a hope.

Aye, he would like that.

I heard him saying just that
to Corporal Copping.

No, it's impossible.

Any case, why should
we knock ourselves out

after the way he's chased us around?

When did he ever chase you, Andy?

Or any of us, for that matter.

He's yelled a lot,
but sergeants can't talk quietly.

If he'd wanted to,

he could have had all of us
inside over and over again.

Yeah, that's right.
I wonder why he didn't.

Excuse me.

Perhaps he's been trying
a sociological experiment, too.

Eh?

As Miles said, Grimshawe could
have made life purgatory for us.

- He didn't. Why?
- Why, Jim?

My theory is this.

With us, his last platoon,
Grimshawe tries the experiment

of deliberately putting a brake
on his disciplinary powers,

relying instead,
purely on his personality.

In my opinion, such
an experiment deserves success.

Boys...

we shall be Champion Platoon tomorrow.

You're barmy.

We can but try
if the others will cooperate.

What do you say?

Go on, boys. Try.

Okay.

What have we got to lose?

Nothing.

Come on, let's tell the others.

Blimey. We'd forgotten Horace.

- That's torn it.
- Wait a minute.

Horace, we've decided to
knock their eyes out tomorrow,

to come right out on top.

Okay.

You know, everything.

Ropes, bayonet, grenades.

The lot.

Yeah.

Ropes�.

Bayonet...

grenades.

The lot.

Okay.

Cor...

Nora.

You understand what I'm saying,
Corporal, don't you?

Well?

You're a man short, sergeant.

That's right. One man sick. Appendicitis.

I'm taking his place.

Who sent you?

No one. I'm volunteering.

On top of everything, this!

Well, what have we got to lose?

All right, Brown, get in there.

Thank you, Sergeant.

Well, I shan't be needing
these chits anymore, Corporal.

Well, I hope he's got his braces on.

Platoon!

Platoon, attention!

Move to the left in threes.

Left turn!

By the right, quick march!

I don't believe it.

Come on.

Left, left, left!

Number three gun, fire!

Fifteen bulls.

Fifteen bulls?

Maximum.

Maximum.

Well, carry on, Sergeant.

- Detail!
- Oh, yeah.

Detail, change!

Number one gun clear, sir!

Number two gun clear, sir.

All right, boys.
Show them what you can do.

En garde!

Charge!

En garde! Charge!

En garde! Charge!

Charge!

En garde! Charge!

En garde! Charge!

- En garde! Charge!

Very military.

All right, lads. You're doing well.

And remember, it's our last chance.

So, do your best.

Right?

And good luck to all of you.

Right, brace up. Brace up.

Platoon.

Platoon, attention!

Platoon, slope arms!

Move to the left in threes!

Left turn!

By the right, quick march!

Parade...

halt!

Doesn't Charlie look smart?

But look at my Horace.

Parade!

Parade...

shun!

Slope arms!

Band, attention!

In threes, right turn!

By the left, quick march!

Number one platoon, eyes right!

Left turn!

Number one platoon, eyes right!

Eyes right!

Eyes right!

- Parade halt!

Left turn!

Shoulder arms!

Stand at ease!

Prize-giving for the 60th intake.

The Champion Platoon of
the 60th intake is Able Platoon.

Platoon Sergeant, Sergeant Grimshawe.

Here!

Fifty quid.

Cor! Blimey!

Well, this is the last time
I shall see you all.

You're as fine a body of men
as I ever have seen.

Proud of you. Broken all records.

Special recommendations. Outstanding.

Sage.

Sir.

Recommended for training as armorer.

Sir.

Bailey.

- Sir.
- Recommended for Education Corps.

Sir.

Strong.

Sir!

Recommended for
Physical Training Instructor.

Sir!

Brown.

We're sorry to lose you,
but heartiest congratulations.

Remarkable persistence.

Succeeded in passing
your preliminary training test

on the eve of your release.

Well, excuse me, sir.
I'm not leaving altogether.

When me leave's over, I'm coming back.

As a regular.

Ah, we... What?

Oh, magnificent show!

Ah, well, enjoy your leave,
Brown. You deserve it.

Thank you, sir.

But all the lot of you,

all work and no play makes Jack...

Well, I think we all know what
the army says about Jack, what?

Carry on, Sergeant.

Sir.

Platoon! Attention!

Platoon, dismissed!

Well, thank you very much.

And, uh, if you're ever
Leighton Buzzard way,

you know, feel like looking in,
always pleased to see you.

Thank you, sir. I'll remember that.

- Goodbye, sir.
- Good bye.

Good luck.

Where's the sergeant?

- Good old Herbert!

Good old Herb!

Excuse me, Sergeant. Um, this is for you.