02x01 - Episode 1

[bunniefuu]

This programme contains very

strong language from the start, some

scenes which some viewers may find

upsetting and some violent scenes

MILITARY DRUM PLAYS

BELL DINGS

Dearest Mother, I write to you

with a heavy, heavy heart

..to tell you that I will not

be able to attend Dad's funeral.

I applied to my superior officers

in Cairo

to grant me compassionate leave.

For reasons

they didn't care to explain,

this permission was denied to me.

As I am sure you can imagine, Ma,

this unexplained refusal

left me in a poor frame of mind.

And has led me to become

somewhat aggrieved.

SHOCKED SCREAMING

f*ck it!

KICKS FURNITURE

Apologies, ladies and gentlemen.

But GHQ Cairo has got

my f*cking goat.

Calm down.

Hold it there.

MUSIC: Rip It Up

by Adolescents

CRUNCHING

GLASS SMASHING

This is for my da.

My poor f*cking da.

g*n c*ck

Enough! Let it go.

You've got a visitor.

COUGHS

RETCHES AND COUGHS

SPITS

♪ If they wanted a man

♪ To encourage the van

♪ Or harass the foe from the rear

♪ Or to take a redoubt

♪ They would always send out

♪ For Abdul Bulbul Ameer ♪

Please don't bother to salute.

I won't.

Leave us. Yes, sir.

Whothe f*ck

..are you?

I'm Lieutenant Colonel

Bill Stirling.

David Stirling's older brother.

Cigarette?

David sends his warmest regards

from Gavi prisoner-of-w*r camp

in Northern Italy.

You can stand at ease. I am at ease.

Why don't we sit down, eh?

Major Mayne,

I've come here to ask you to help me

stop GHQ from disbanding

your regiment

and sending all of your men

back to their parent units.

Which they are planning to do

in the next two days

if we don't do something

to stop them.

The nature of the w*r has changed.

They're looking for an excuse to

stand you down

and, at the moment,

YOU are that excuse.

You don't look like him.

I'm more patient. Less rash.

More thoughtful.

Less impulsive.

You will think that I'm soft

and then snap. Snap?!

CHUCKLING: Oh

Oh, I'd f*cking love to see snap.

And I would quite like for us

to talk as two soldiers.

Two adults, not two reputations.

As far as I'm aware,

you don't have a reputation.

Because for the past two years

I've been working for

British military intelligence.

Our very existence is secret.

So we're not allowed

the luxury of reputations.

Now, do you want to save the SAS,

or not?

CLEARS THROA

You know, when your brother

came in these places,

I listened to him

because he earned my respect.

Earned.

Like when you're a kid and your da

asks you to chop wood

I heard what happened

regarding your father's funeral

..and you chop the wood,

you chop the whole f*cking tree

When I learned they refused you

compassionate leave

..and your da hands you a shilling

and says ..I blew my top.

.."You earned that, Paddy, my boy.

My son.

"My sweet son.

You earned that for your efforts."

Whereas you, as far as I am aware,

have chopped no trees,

picked up no axe,

fed no f*cking fires,

done nothing to earn my respect.

You blew your top?

Is that what you just said?

Is that how you speak?

You "blew your top"?!

Well, f*cking believe you me,

I blew my top as well.

I blew the top off f*cking Cairo.

And in doing so, you made some

of your critics very, very happy.

Oh, f*ck.

I've got so much rum and raki

inside of me

turning into blood and vinegar

..I need to either sh*t or throw up,

my body can't decide which.

RATTLES BARS

I need a bucket in here!

KEYS JINGLE

I've already secured your release.

You can use the lavatory

on the way back to your unit.

If the SAS still exists.

Obviously there are no doors.

So

..if you want to watch me do

whatever the f*ck it

is I'm about to do

CHUCKLES

..be my f*cking guest.

Something for you to read

and then wipe your arse with.

This memorandum contains

two paragraphs.

The first states that

now the military campaign

against the Axis powers

is moving from Africa to Europe,

ill-disciplined rogue brigades

like the SAS

There are no brigades

like the SAS.

PADDY GROANS

..rogue brigades operating behind

enemy lines will become redundant

and will be a liability.

Ohfuck.

The second paragraph states that

the commanding officer of the SAS,

Robert Blair Paddy Mayne,

is experiencing difficulties

with command.

GROANS

This is what I heard in a bar in GHQ

from someone with influence.

"Paddy Mayne is an Irishman

of poor temperament.

"Unused to command, unhappy with

authority, unable to change."

And without doubt, last night's

events will be used as proof.

And might I just add, my experience

working in military intelligence

makes me think

they refused you leave to attend

your father's funeral

purely to make you react

in the way that you did.

Thus proving their point.

You played into their hands, Paddy.

Take a look in the mirror.

You know, don't you,

that "military intelligence"

is a contradiction in terms?

Look in the mirror, Paddy

Mirrors are for those

who do not know themselves.

You could be looking at the

commanding officer of a new unit.

A re-purposed tool.

A unit that will become the pointed

tip of the arrow of invasion.

You should write that stuff down,

I'd wipe my arse with that too.

The next stage of this w*r

is invasion.

Taking territory

inch by f*cking inch.

And some poor b*stards have to be

the first on the beach,

the first across the river,

the first through the door.

Taking the worst of it, the fury,

the wall of fire.

I have suggested to GHQ that

those poor b*stards

who go first could be you.

You, Paddy Mayne, could be

the first Allied commander

to set foot in n*zi-occupied Europe.

The very first.

But I need to convince GHQ that

the Irishman CAN change.

The Irishman can obey orders.

My brother was the midwife

of this regiment.

I refuse to be its coroner.

Agree to be redefined as

a flying commando unit

at the sharp end of invasion

..and the SAS will survive.

RADIO STATIC

This is the BBC.

And now here is the

RADIO RETUNES, SNATCH OF MUSIC

..the RAF attacked German cities

setting off a series of fire

RADIO STATIC

JAUNTY MUSIC PLAYS

DOOR OPENS

FOOTSTEPS

Red. Bien sur, madame.

SIGHS

What?

It seemed disrespectful to use an

umbrella in such beautiful weather.

I love the rain.

What, always, or ever since?

Ever since.

On my third day of walking across

the desert, I dreamed about rain.

I could feel it on my face

and I licked it from my lips.

I will never again waste a drop.

Thank you.

The wagon is bumpy and

uncomfortable, and incredibly

boring,

where you remember everything and

there's nothing worth remembering.

But I am still on it.

SHE SIGHS AIRILY

Shall we? Mm-hm.

Something new.

And there's something old.

Some lies,

uncomfortable truths.

Oh, and here's a new idea of mine

that I thought

you might find amusing.

A request from General de Gaulle.

A suggestion.

More complaints.

And an invitation.

Oooh!

A c*ck party at The Ritz.

I thought you could be my partner.

Presented by the

"Portuguese friends of America".

That means there will be bourbon

and swing music.

On the evening of the ninth of July.

Hmm.

Is that date problematic for you?

Er, no. No, not at all.

No, I'd be delighted to join.

If you're resorting to me

as a partner,

you must still be alone in London.

And will be until David returns.

I assume he writes to you every day?

When he first found out that

I survived, he wrote every day.

Now he's concentrating on

finding ways to escape.

But I see his brother William

has been busy.

You know, if I didn't know you were

such a consummate professional,

I'd swear you only skim those

briefing pages

to find references to the SAS.

Except this document

refers to the SRS.

Bill Stirling is the Stirling

who did not fall from tree

and land on his head.

He's changed the name of the

regiment. Mm-hm.

And given them a new and even more

effective way of committing suicide.

The Special Raiding Squadron.

Paddy Mayne swallowed the concept,

of course.

Because deep in his soul,

Paddy's still a little boy

in the headmaster's office,

and those Scottish toffs

scare him to death.

First on the beach.

David will be very jealous.

Well, if David has any sense at all,

he'll be mightily relieved

he's safely tucked away

in an Italian prisoner-of-w*r camp.

The European campaign

is going to make Africa

look like a f*cking tea party.

So, Paddy Mayne

had better be whipping

that unruly mob of his into shape.

MUSIC: Night Boat to Cairo

by Madness

Come on! You English f*ck!

I will part your arse Yeah, yeah?

..and pull out your f*cking giblets!

Look, you Scotch c**t, I like a row

as much as anyone else,

but sometimes you need to stop

and have a f*cking sit down,

all right?! Yep, you're on.

Is that English for "I surrender"?

Shut the f*ck up!

I surrender!

Reg! Reg!

We're already late to the briefing.

Paddy Mayne don't give

a f*ck about late.

Paddy Mayne don't give a f*ck

about anything

so long as the job gets done.

All right. All right? Let's do it.

BARKING

I asked you very politely

to stay in the truck.

Up.

Withers, you're going to have to

get used to not being with me.

Hey, sit.

Good boy.

OK. Better tell it to you straight

before the others get here.

You can't come with me to Europe.

We've been given orders

and we are shipping out.

I found a family that will

take you in.

WITHERS WHINES

I have no choice.

It's an official secret,

so don't tell anyone,

but we are shipping out tomorrow.

Destination unknown.

It's a big ship at first,

but then lots of small boats.

Tiny boats, 12 men each.

No room for a dog.

WITHERS CRIES

If you want the truth

..I think it's a suicide mission.

Will you stop looking at me

like that?

Look, three days from now,

I'll probably be lying

in a slick of my own blood

somewhere in the Mediterranean.

But if you stay here, goat's meat

..plus they'll let you eat

all the lizards you can catch.

If it's easier,

I could sh**t him for you.

Or I could sh**t you.

There'll be dogs in Sicily.

Sicily?

You see, that is

why I am unsuited to command.

I cannot keep a secret.

Sit! Sit! Stay!

If you want me to talk to the dog,

I talk dog.

No, I have already explained

everything to him, sir.

Problem is, I think that he thinks

that he is in charge of us.

Ah, pretty soon you'll wish

it was him in charge and not me.

I already do.

Are we on time or early?

We're on time.

So where the f*ck is everybody?

You know, I actually think that the

new intake might be worse than us.

Ah, behold.

The sharp tip of the arrow

of invasion.

Right, yous. Come here to me.

CHATTERING

Lads!

THEY QUIETEN

For two months now,

I've been marching you round

and round Lake Throw-Up,

and up and down

Mount Shite The Bucket.

And for two months yous have

been cursing me

and putting me in your crosshairs,

just aching to squeeze the trigger.

Well, in ten minutes from now,

yous are going to hate me

good and proper.

You die in the desert,

you get eaten by birds.

You die at sea

and you get eaten by sardines,

and your granny

finds your fingernail

in a tin she bought at the Co-op.

LAUGHTER

Yeah, well, sardines live

in the ocean by Sardinia, Paddy.

This looks a lot like a map

of Sicily to me, lad.

LAUGHTER

It looks like a

..like a pig's head.

That is exactly right.

Capo Murro Di Porco.

Cape of the pig's snout.

They're sending us to get chewed up

by a great big Italian pig.

Looks like it's Sicily

for the holidays then.

Who gave you permission to speak?

ALL: Ohhhh!

New intake, listen f*cking here.

Any men recruited after

December 1942,

keep your f*cking mouths shut!

Unless you are addressed directly by

a man with sand under his foreskin

from previous exchanges

with hostile forces

Actually,

I haven't got a foreskin, sir.

MEN CHEER AND WHOOP

Now you don't have a pipe.

I told you not to smoke that

camel shite around me.

Angel!

Hey, sweetie! Coo-coo, coo-coo!

I swear to God this eejit

is out his head on something.

Permission to eat a biscuit.

Whoever is giving him whatever

it is he's taking, f*cking stop.

All this talk of f*cking pigs

and sardines, it's making me hungry.

Mad f*ck.

Why don't you send him back to

whichever f*cking Scotch swamp

you got him from? Eh?

Because.because!

..our next mission is utter

f*cking madness.

So we will require the services

of madmen.

Thank you, boss. And on that note,

I would love to go home,

by the way, Sergeant Happy Face.

I'll put you on a boat myself, mate.

Oh, great, you going to be

the captain, eh?

Yeah, I'll be the f*cking captain.

You're like a wee kettle. You what?

Boiling with anger.

Close your mouth! Go on, Reg!

I don't need to see the biscuits

in it. Get in there, Reg! Go on.

How about you shut up?!

Hey, come on then!

Shh!

ALL SHOUTING

GUNSHO

Worse than the kids, you two.

One minute from now,

a Lieutenant Colonel is going to

walk into this tent

and brief you about tomorrow.

Which might well be

your last day on Earth.

The nature of our role

in this w*r has changed

and I have agreed to that change.

That sign up there, "f*ck off SAS",

could've been written by

General Montgomery himself.

It was actually catering.

Aye, well, the sentiment

from on high is the same.

In Roman times,

they would send in wild dogs

to attack the enemy line before

they sent in any human soldiers.

But these days it would be

considered cruel to use dogs.

So they are going to use us.

I said we would be OK with that,

since the task we have been given

is the liberation of Europe

from the Nazis.

The man in the shiny wee boots

will give you the details.

I will give you the words

of William Blake.

Had I three lives

I'd die in such a cause,

And rise, with ghosts,

over the well-fought field.

Prepare, prepare.

Prepare to meet our fathers

in the sky.

Listen, boys.

The inexorable, unstoppable approach

to the new way of w*r.

Sit up! Come to attention!

What did he say?

Something about wanting attention.

At ease, men.

BARKING

Cor, blimey.

Always trust the judgment of a dog.

What did you say?

Nothing.

It was my dog.

He's saying hello to you.

LAUGHTER

Gentlemen, this is Lieutenant

Colonel William Stirling.

WITHERS CONTINUES TO BARK

The less famous brother

to the brother we made famous.

GROWLING AND BARKING

At least please have

the dog removed, Paddy.

Do you want all the dogs in here

removed, sir?

Because there are 35 of us.

Well, just

..quieten him down then, yes?

Woof woof! Shh.

What the hell is that?

The catering staff who have been

dealing with our reasonable

demands for drink and our varying

opinions on how you cook a goat

left it there for us

by way of a fond farewell.

The feeling is mutual.

I left a Lewes b*mb in their oven.

When it warms up,

they'll be blown to hell.

That was a joke, yes?

Johnny doesn't make jokes.

But he does blow things up.

Right. I'm Lieutenant Colonel

Bill Stirling and

A f*cking rat!

Mind yourself, Bob.

ALL CHEER

Vermin like the German, eh, lads?

LAUGHS

Sorry, sir. Good shot.

Do carry on.

My name is Bill Stirling

and I'm the new liaison

between this unit and GHQ.

First of all, let me just say,

I am not my brother.

And I am not

your commanding officer.

No, put your hand down.

No, no, no. Let him speak.

I like your boots, Bill.

These f*ck here,

these Englishmen, are strangers

to polishing brushes.

But I am guessing you are

Scottish, huh?

By your boots.

Aye?

Mm.

I am not your commanding officer,

but I do intend to be honest

with you.

My brother told me

you appreciate honesty.

So tomorrow you deploy here,

the south-eastern tip of Sicily.

And, according to a confidential

GHQ report,

which I'm sharing with you against

their orders,

the as*ault on the Italian defences

will result in a casualty rate,

which we estimate will be

around 50%.

Is that 50% dead

or dead and wounded?

Dead.

I'mbeing honest with you,

because my brother told me

you appreciate honesty.

Aye, you've said that.

My brother told me that

My brother likes tractors.

But I get on with my own life

as myself.

My men would like to get

a drink in before they die.

Why don't you give us a briefing?

We don't dilly-dally.

Just ask your brother.

Very well.

Men of the newly formed

Special Raiding Squadron

ALL: SAS!

Now and always!

Whatever your title, this is

what your future holds.

On the morning of the tenth of July,

the largest amphibious as*ault force

ever assembled

will gather for the start of the

liberation of Europe.

3,000 ships carrying 160,000

soldiers

will deploy the British Eighth Army

under General Montgomery

and the US Seventh Army under

General Patton.

Aboard the Ulster Monarch

you'll be ahead of the main fleet,

leading the way.

Now, before the main force deploys,

you will carry out the initial

as*ault on the coastal defences.

Reconnaissance has identified

a mixture of fortified

heavy machine g*n nests,

heavy and light a*tillery,

barbed wire and minefields,

manned by two regiments of Italian

coastal infantry.

If these defences are not taken out

before dawn,

the main attack on the coast of

Sicily will be cut to pieces.

This will be the very first mission

for the newly formed SRS.

Therefore

..the successful launch of the

campaign to liberate Europe

..is now in your hands.

Oh, nice.

Suit.

Oh, forget it.

CLOCK ALARM BELL RINGS

RINGING STOPS

Paddy.

We go in one hour.

We should get the men ready.

Men, get ready.

Is that all right?

My men don't need me to tell

them to be ready.

They are always ready.

Now, lads

..listen up.

I have some rather shite

news for you.

One hour ago,

19:15 hours,

three squadrons of gliders took

off from Tunisia

and are now in the skies

above our heads.

They are carrying soldiers

..who will land in the interior of

the island,

cut off communications

and supply lines

after we have reached the cliffs,

and be ready to halt the inevitable

Italian retreat.

However, since American-made

gliders

are quite similar to paper

aeroplanes,

some of them have fallen short

and crashed into the Mediterranean.

Get out!

Get out!

This will not be a good outcome

for those men onboard.

As a result of this,

as we make our way at speed toward

the snout of the Sicilian pig

..you will

encounter soldiers

..British soldiers, adrift at sea

with very little chance of rescue.

And you will do nothing

to help them.

I repeat,

you will do nothing

to help those British soldiers

who will pass within a few

feet of you.

Instead, you will leave

them to drown.

That is an order.

And in the new order of things

..orders will be f*cking obeyed.

Outstretched hands

..cries for help

..cries for Mama

..cries in the name of God, will not

slow your landing craft down,

because if you do, our mission

will be delayed

and it will fail.

You will not jeopardise the success

of the liberation of Europe

with acts of mercy.

Any man who disobeys this order

will face court-martial

and my own wrath.

Is that clear?

I said, is that f*cking clear?

ALL: Yes, sir!

These are the last moments

of your lives when you won't

have images of drowning men

stuck inside your head.

Make the most of these moments.

Yous have an hour.

Right, you heard the man!

We have one hour to get

our sh*t together!

Reg!

Let's go.

OK.

This time, I mean it.

You are staying on the ship

..and I will return.

And if I don't.

..then I was never really that

great.

I wish I was the man that you think

I am.

Stay close to the fat guy

in the big white hat.

Not three. Get over there.

They said two.

That's two lines per boat.

Line up now.

Yes, sir.

What's up? All right, get cracking.

Ready your weapons.

Form up by the nets.

First man over the side

and into the landing craft.

Don't be slow about it.

DISTANT SCREAMING

Help!

Help! Help!

f*cking hell!

Stop the boat!

Paddy, there's lads dying out there.

Please.

♪ Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace

bled ♪

I don't want to die!

We can't hold on much longer!

Save us!

Please!

Hey!

Over here!

Please!

Over here!

I've a baby I've never seen!

Help me!

Please!

Help!

Help! Come back!

Come back!

Oh!

Come back!

♪ Wha for Scotland's king

and law♪

Paddy, we've got room. No mercy.

SCREAMING

Don't let go!

Where are you going, you b*stard?!

In the name of God, help!

♪ Tyrants fall in every foe♪

Oh, my God!

Stop!

Come back! Come back!

Where are you going?

Please!

Where are you going?

♪ Let us do or die! ♪

In the name of God, save us!

Come back!

Where are you going?

THUMPING

Please, stop the boat!

Stop the boat!

Stop the boat, please don't

THUMPING

Stop the boat!

Seekings Don't, don't.

Stop the boat!

Help me!

Please!

Paddy, please.

Cut him loose.

Help me!

When I give the order, don't look

back.

We have orders.

Please!

Cut him loose or I sh**t him.

Don't.

Don't do that, please.

Paddy, wait!

Please don't do that.

Don't do that, please, don't do

that!

Paddy! Please, don't do that,

please.

Sorry, lad, I'm sorry.

Please, don't do that!

No!

Please!

They were f*cking drowning, Paddy.

That's on you, that, Paddy.

Please!

Please, come back!

Come back!

20 yards to range of enemy g*ns.

Prepare!

r*fle FIRE

r*fle FIRE

Go, go, go, go!

THEY SHOU

Go, go, go!

f*ck it, Paddy, let's go.

Take the right, on the right. Go!

Hey, McDiarmid! On me!

To the left.

Get closer!

Take your bags off!

In the dark and chaos above

the call between us

will be Desert Rats!

The only acceptable response

is k*ll Italians!

ALL: k*ll Italians!

k*ll Italians! k*ll Italians.

Prepare to move!

Ready!

expl*si*n

Move!

THEY SHOU

JAZZ MUSIC PLAYS

JAZZ MUSIC AND g*nshots

Thank you, sir. Thank you.

APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Now for something a little

slower paced.

Introducing The Nearness Of You.

Something important?

Eve, when you made a point

of inviting me

to a completely inconsequential

c*ck party

taking place

on the night of July ninth

You suspected that I knew something

that no member of the

French Government

was supposed to know.

Your reaction to the date

on the invitation

confirmed what I suspected.

Without vodka, I'm somewhat

worse at my job.

But where did you get July ninth?

An American ship heading south

docked in Lisbon for repairs.

A sailor got drunk.

A date was mentioned.

I have friends

in the Portuguese Embassy.

My suspicion was that on July ninth

something was planned

which you were not sharing

with your French allies.

My dear, in our bi-weekly meetings

in the pub,

I'm simply not allowed to tell you

everything.

In fact, you don't tell me anything.

"My dear".

Just tell me.

Has the invasion of Europe begun?

PADDY: Yes, come on, move it!

Left flank!

Take out that pillbox!

Cover my back!

Hurry up!

Covering!

Move, move, move!

Jock, get down, man!

Empty!

Aargh!

Mad f*ck!

f*cking b*stards!

Aargh!

What are you ladies waiting for?!

May I ask for a dance, Ma'am?

No, thank you.

Thanks anyway, Ma'am.

You made your call?

You have news?

It's gone midnight.

You can tell me.

Where it just you and I,

trust would not be an issue.

Trust? Trust requires good faith.

Trust requires an absence

of prejudice

and I'm afraid when it comes

to General de Gaulle,

there is no absence of prejudice in

Whitehall,

and certainly not with

the Americans,

who are now calling the shots.

And now the shots are being fired.

Well, you knew it was coming.

You just didn't know where or when.

I tried to tell my superiors,

but they insisted that the British

and Americans

would never embark on such an

operation without our knowledge.

Well, perhaps next time

they'll listen to you.

Won't be no next time.

Not for me.

Not with you.

Look, if you're interested

..it is the SRS who are spearheading

the operation.

And the news is

..they're hard at work.

Thank you.

Aargh!

Jock, enough! Get down!

Hold fire!

On me, lad!

You got it!

Careful, boys.

You b*stards!

Men down!

Reg! Reg!

Get down! Stand fast!

Seekings!

What is he doing?

Cover him! Cover him! Cover him!

Get those men to safety.

Come on, man. f*cking hell!

Go, go, go!

f*cking!

Aargh!

Mancato.

THEY LAUGH

IN ITALIAN:

I'll prossimo colpo pulito.

We left those men to drown!

So they're on our conscience!

k*lling them's none of your f*cking

business!

Don't sh**t!

We surrender.

They think there's more of us

than there are. Aye.

Because nobody would be so stupid

as to attack an entire f*cking

continent with 35 men.

f*ck Germans!

Welcome, America!

We're not f*cking Americans.

Should I sh**t them for that?

No.

That'll do. Lay down on the ground.

Tutto a terra.

Paddy!

Go!

Grenade!

SCREAMING

Christ!

Clear!

Clear!

f*cking knew you'd come in handy.

Thank you, boss.

Just walk and keep your r*fle on

them, lad.

No need to pray, sugar pie.

If I wanted you dead, you'd be

f*cking dead already.

Don't move! Stay down!

Are they alive?

Just flesh wounds, Paddy.

They'll be all right.

Yous did very f*cking well.

Including you new boys.

But remember,

this is just the snout.

It is our job to take the whole

f*cking hog

right the way up to the tail.

Search them.

Take weapons only.

McDiarmid, you sit on your

f*cking hands.

Take the bunker!

Stand up.

Right, round them up, chaps.

Get up! Get up! f*cking move!

Move in, move in.

Kershaw, easy!

SHOUTING

Come on in, boys.

Come and take all the f*cking glory.

This is the BBC, London calling.

Good news.

One of the signals officers in three

block has a home-made radio.

He just heard - the invasion

of Europe has begun.

The game has started.

And they say your boys of the SAS

scored the very first goal.