All language subtitles for Ripping Yarns - S01xE03

In 1916, in the heart of
the Kaiser's Germany,

were prisoners of war for whom the
iron heel of submission was intolerable.

This is the story
of one such man.

Ginger. Ginger. The escape's on.

-What?
-It's on tonight. Let's go.

No, no. I don't want to go.

Ginger, it's the
escape. The big escape.

No, no. I want to
get some sleep.

Dusty? Dusty? Dusty!

-Time to go.
-Go?

The escape. It's on tonight.

Look, you go, Major.

I've got this terrible cold. I
can't seem to shake it off.

Don't you want to
get back to Blighty?

See Nora and the kids?

Yes, obviously.

But I don't want to go back
all sneezing and snuffling

and have to go straight to bed.

But...

Oh!

Carter? Carter?

Oh, piss off.

What's the matter with you all?

Where's all that British spunk?

Well, whatever you lot do,

I'm going tonight!

Cheerio.

Bye-bye.

This is your last chance. Does
anyone want to come with me?

Anyone? Anyone want to
come just a bit of the way?

No, right, good.

I'll do the whole damn
escape by myself.

-Blast!
-Goodness' sake! Quiet!

Can't you let me get some sleep?

-Ooh! Oh!
-Aw, shut up, Phipps!

For God's sake!

You miserable bunch of cowards!

You lazy loafing
lot of layabouts!

Don't you know there's
a war on out there?

Don't you know there are people out there
fighting to keep this world safe and free

for people like you and me?

Well, I'm going to join
them, do you hear?

You won't keep me
cooling my heels in here

when there's Huns to
fight and Boche to kill!

I'm going, getting out. I'm off.

You won't keep me in here
while there's a war to win.

Goodbye!

Oh, hello.

Major Errol Phipps was a legend
among prisoners in the First World War.

He had attempted over 560 escapes,
200 of them before he left England.

On arrival in Germany, he
escaped regularly every day

and twice a day at weekends.

And so it was on June the 4th, 1917,
after escaping six times in one day,

Phipps found himself
being taken by the Germans

to the most notorious
prison camp of all.

-Where are you from?
-Er, Reigate.

Ah, yes. Know it well.

I'm a Dorking man myself.

Ah. Yes.

Do you know the
Eel and Partridge?

No. No, I don't.

-Want a cigarette?
-Oh, zigarette.

-Nice little pub.
-Danke.

It's just outside Banstead. Do you
know, the barman there has this amazing...

Anyway, the barman
at the Eel and Partridge

has this incredible
old dog, Benji.

-Do you know what he can do?
-No, no.

He's the only dog,
and I kid you not,

the only dog I've ever known who can drink
six pints of beer and sing Lily of Laguna.

Honestly, I swear as
God's my witness, Phipps,

I've seen that
dog, totally pissed,

sing all four verses and
with his foot. Mark you...

Although Major Phipps
attempted to escape

nine more times on
that fateful journey,

it seemed that at last, the Germans had
broken the soul of this hardened escaper.

For now he was at the
gates of Stalag Luft 112 B,

the most prestigious
prisoner-of-war camp of all.

The finest British
officers were here

and there was a waiting
list of several years to get in.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
Up on the note, up. Once more.

-Ja. It's good.
-Ja.

Move!

Captain Nicholson
and Major Phipps.

-How do you do? I'm...
-What are you doing in here?

-What?
-How dare you come in here?

This is British sovereign
territory. You know that damn well.

We was delivering prisoners.

You are not delivering prisoners.
You are delivering British officers.

And when you
deliver British officers,

you wait outside the door until a
member of the arrivals committee,

being in previous receipt of an allocation
form signed by your commandant,

comes to receive them.

Listen, who's winning
the bloody war?

Don't you dare use language
like that in front of a British officer.

Gets on my wick, all this.

You're supposed to be prisoners. You
come here because you got captured.

Because you're not
very good at fighting.

-And now we get all this.
-You see that man over there?

That's Captain Walcott.

He won two DSOs and made
a single-handed night attack

that destroyed four
German positions.

Over there is
Sergeant Major Errol,

the first of the Northumberland
Fusiliers over the top at Mons.

Archie Tucker,
Lieutenant Tucker to you,

commander of the first ship to break
the North Atlantic blockade in 1915.

-They still got captured.
-And lucky for you they did.

You might have had the French
in here, or the Greeks, or the Poles.

Would you rather have
that than a prison camp

full of some of the finest
soldiers of this or any other war?

It's just not fair.

Just because you haven't
got the guts to get captured.

I was nearly captured once.

I was. I was standing next
to a man who was captured.

It could have been me.

Suddenly Phipps saw his chance.

While his friends were
causing this diversion,

he would test the so-called
impregnability of Stalag Luft 112 B.

Get his gun, quick!

Hey, you! Major, come back!

Phipps, come back!
Do you hear me?

This is your last warning.

Thank you, Herr Attenborough.

You couldn't run a bloody
jumble sale, could you, Vogel?

-Hello, Buffy.
-Hello, Biffo.

-Hello, Squidgy.
-Hello.

Hello, Biffo.

-Hello, Dumbo.
-Hello, Biffo!

At ease, chaps.

Hello, Tosh. Hello, Smudger.

Hello, Spiker, how's the leg?

It's nearly finished, sir.

Good, damn good.

What's the matter,
Chips? Feeling low?

Oh. No, no, it's...
It's nothing, sir.

I know, I know. I feel
like that sometimes.

-Cigarette?
-Oh, yeah.

I've got one somewhere, sir.

Anything I can do, Chips?

No, it's nothing, sir. It's
just... It's just that the wife's...

Wife's got married...

-Married again, sir.
-Ah.

Oh. Have you got any tipped?

No, sir. Just these, sir.

I've got a cigar.

-But I was... I was going to save that.
-Oh, that'll do. Thanks.

She was everything to me, sir.

Everything I ever had.

We had such good times together.

Last leave was
the best of all, sir.

Then this.

I don't know how
she could do it, sir.

-Where's the cigar?
-It's on the locker, sir, behind the photo.

Ah, yes. Thanks.

I just... I feel
so helpless, sir.

I want to be back
there with her.

But it's too late.

Can't see the cigar anywhere.

It's probably fallen
down the back, sir.

Ah, fine.

I...

I've never told anyone
this before, sir, but...

there was a time when we...
we didn't get on that well, sir.

The wife...

The wife had an
operation down there, sir.

-I can't see it.
-And afterwards, she...

-She didn't like doing it.
-What?

She didn't like
doing it for a bit, sir.

-Is this it?
-Oh, yes. That's it, sir.

-She sent it to me for Christmas.
-Oh, thanks.

-So, you're Phipps, are you?
-Yes, that's right, sir.

I'm Harry Harcourt Badger Owen,
but senior ranks call me Biffo.

I'm the CO here.
Got any cigarettes?

No, don't smoke,
sir. Try to keep fit.

Never know when the
moment might come, sir.

-The moment?
-To escape, sir.

-Get back home. Fight the Boche.
-Ah, yes. I know how you feel.

The trouble is, this damn place
is virtually impossible to get out of,

as I believe you
learned early on.

Well, I've had a few
ideas since then, sir.

I've started on a glider made
entirely out of toilet roll holders.

Ah, yes, you see, we have a sort
of, er, agreement here about escapes.

We have a sort of system whereby all
escape plans go to an escape committee.

The committee then recommends some of
them to a full session of the escape board.

And whichever plan has a two-thirds
majority is put to a secret ballot.

And the plan with the most votes
then becomes the official plan,

and goes to the escape
plan review committee.

-Yes...
-And if they like it, they'll commission

-a feasibility study.
-When's the next meeting, sir?

June the 5th.

-June the 5th?
-Yes, 3:30. But don't tell anybody.

But that's four months away.

Yes, well, the trouble
is, with Easter coming up,

and then there's the start
of the cricket season...

-But the war might be over by then.
-Well, let's hope not, obviously.

Listen. I've made a
start on the fuselage.

All I need is a couple of your
fellows to help me with the wings.

Look.

-For God's sake, put that thing away.
-Hey, watch out!

-Shut it, you damn fool.
-Be careful!

Listen, Phipps, I don't want to
hear anything about escape plans

except through the correct
channels, do you hear?

There are 1400
toilet rolls in there.

I'm sorry, Phipps, but this is our
camp and we do things our way.

You bally idiots! What's the matter
with you? Don't you want to escape?

There's a proper way
of doing things, Phipps.

Like sitting on your
arses till the war's over?

Now listen, Phipps, either you play
it our way or you don't play it at all.

I wouldn't play it your way.
Not while there's a war to win.

I'm going to escape,
you hear me?

I'm going to escape, even
if I have to do it on my own.

You will be on your own, Major
Phipps. I can assure you of that.

Cheerio, Spiker. Pads out
for junior league tomorrow.

Righto, Biffo, sir. Remember I'm
going in number three this year, sir.

-Damn good. Cheerio, Smudger.
-Cheerio, Biffo.

-Cheerio, Buffy.
-Cheerio, Biffo.

-Cheerio, Squidgy.
-Cheerio, Biffo.

-Cheerio, Dumbo.
-Cheerio, Biffo.

Cheerio, Biffo.

Whoa! Damn fine shot.

Well done, sir.

As the weeks went by,
Major Phipps' contempt

for the attitude of
his fellow officers

drew him into an
ever-deepening isolation

as he dedicated himself night
and day to the one goal of escape.

Working entirely alone and with a mind
obsessed with his desire for freedom,

he became almost a recluse...

Good God! How
dare you, sir! Help!

...hardly ever speaking or
communicating with his comrades

as his plans neared completion.

Until, after months of this
solitary work, the great day arrived.

-Where are they?
-You're not supposed to be in here.

-Where are they?
-He's right, you know, we're not really meant

-to come in here.
-Shut up!

If you don't tell me where
they are, I'll blow your head off.

We're definitely not allowed
to do that, Herr Unteroffizier.

Stop telling me my business.

What are you talking about?

Them! Where have they gone?

Was it a tunnel?
Was it a wire job, huh?

You mean they've...
They've escaped?

Of course they bloody escaped!

-Their victory.
-Whose side are you on?

I am on the side of justice,
mein Herr, und legality.

Christ.

Now, where are your
nasty little friends?

Herr Vogel, what
about the Red Cross?

To hell with the Red Cross!

Listen, what's the
use of having a war

where nobody does
anything bad to each other?

What's the point in a war
where everyone's saying,

"Hello, how are you? Good evening,
old chap, have some chocolate."

Surely there are
humanitarian considerations

which are applicable
even in wartime.

I know. I mean, there's
nothing I'd like better,

to give people my chocolate
and say, "Hello, how are you?"

But conditions of war create an unreality
which call for a different kind of moral code.

Are you saying that we should
abrogate our basic responsibilities

for our fellow men because
of some disagreement

over the size of the
Austrian Empire?

No, I'm saying
there's a moral code

that supersedes individual
moral codes during a time of war.

-But what you're saying...
-Shut up! No more argument.

From now on, we run this prison
camp as though there is a war on.

Do what you like. You'll
never keep me in here now.

Major Phipps, in this prison camp there are
over 45 highly trained, fully armed guards.

If you think we can't take care
of one cowardly British officer...

Don't you dare call me cowardly!

I've escaped more times
than all of them put together.

Well, this is one time that
you're not going to escape.

By the time I've finished with this
place, no one will ever escape again.

Schnell.

Left, right, left, right, left,
right, left, right. Squad, halt!

Left turn.

Prisoners will
answer their names.

-Phipps?
-Here.

Alles hier, mein Kommandant.

Und now, sport.

Vogel's pressure was tremendous.

Every move Phipps made was
watched and controlled by guards,

working sometimes
18 or 20 hours a day.

There seemed no way out.

Prisoner, attention! Left turn!

Prisoner, attention! Right turn!

Psst. Psst.

-What do you want?
-We wondered if...

What?

We wondered if...

you were thinking
of escaping at all.

You don't think I'd tell
you even if I were, do you?

Of course not. Of
course not. It's just that...

-What?
-Well...

If you are, we wondered if
perhaps we could come with you?

-You?
-We want to get out of here.

We can't stand it any longer.

-What is this?
-You don't know what it's like.

We're not happy here.

-Vogel making it too tough for you, eh?
-No!

It's just that we used to have
rules. We knew where we were.

We knew them all off by heart.

We had to, and Major Attenborough
used to make sure we kept to them.

Ja, ja, he was a good sort.

He'd never have allowed
us in here like this.

This is sovereign
British territory.

You can't suddenly make us do
things which are not in the book.

Herr Vogel's cancelled our
leave! He's put up all those lights.

And now it's
impossible to get out.

But Herr Major, you know
the camp better than anyone.

Please, can you
help us to escape?

You really want me
to help you escape?

It's not only us, the commandant
wants to escape as well.

We've never done it before
and you're doing it so often.

Please help us, Herr Major.

I will never besmirch
the name of my regiment

and my country by
collaborating with the enemy.

Oh, Herr Major,
please help us. Help us.

When I escape, I will
escape in my own time.

Now get off my bed!

Phipps went back to sleep that
night happier than for many weeks.

The camp was falling
apart before his very eyes.

All he needed to do now
was to choose his moment

and effect the most spectacular
escape in the history of the war.

Oh, my God!

It's open!

Where are they?

-Where are they?
-What do you mean?

Quit the fooling. I'm in no
mood for a fooling, I warn you.

I want to know what you've done
with my 45 highly trained guards.

-I haven't done anything with them.
-Where are my highly trained guards?

-How should I know?
-Listen!

-That definitely is against the regulations.
-Sod the regulations!

I want to know, where are
my 45 highly trained guards?

Well, they said
something about escaping.

They what?

Yeah, they were so fed
up with conditions here...

Escaping?

Stop!

Steinbeck! Schwartzenberg!

Venkavich! Stop!

Phipps!

-You must stop them.
-What?

They are escaping. You
must stop them at once!

No, no, I'm a serving
British officer, Herr Vogel.

I'm afraid I can't
obey your commands.

All right, all right, I'm not ordering
you. I'm asking you as a friend.

-Shoot a few Germans?
-No, do your own dirty work, Vogel.

But what's the point in having a
war if you don't shoot Germans?

-That would be collaboration.
-Oh, my God!

Bloody rules! I'm
sick and tired of them.

Oh, no! I just hit
the commandant.

Well, what are you
going to do now, Vogel?

What can I do? There's
only one thing I can do.

I've got to escape.

For Major Phipps,
this was the moment.

At last he was free.

Free to complete the largest glider ever
assembled inside a prisoner-of-war camp.

Free to complete a network of tunnels
so elaborate that they later became

part of the Munich
underground system.

He built a catapult so powerful it could
fling him 200 miles across occupied Europe.

He was about to
construct a hot-air balloon

using only the little bits you pull
off Elastoplast before sticking it on

when tragedy struck.

The war was over.

Major Phipps became the only man
never to escape from Stalag Luft 112 B.

He returned home a broken
man and died three months later.

He was buried here
in Totnes churchyard.

But his body was found two
years later over by the fence.

Major Phipps had made his
last and perhaps greatest escape.