I'm not asking for anything other than permission and 60 men.
Men I will choose according to my own criteria.
If you decide to join them, I will join the SAS too.
My dearest Mirren, you know I love you,
I know I could make you so happy.
If you go out in this, it will be suicide.
Who?
McGonigal, sir.
What is it about Stirling that you dislike so much?
I invented the SAS,
he had no right to destroy it
on its first mission.
We have a second chance.
Let's see what the stars have in store for us.
That's Paddy Mayne in Tamet.
And here am I in the dark and silence in Sirte.
- Well it's not a competition, sir. - Of course it is.
Ooh, I see.
Let the games begin.
Based on a true story,
the events depicted which seem most unbelievale
...are mostly true.
50 MILES SOUTH OF GERMAN / ITALIAN AIRSTRIPS
29TH DECEMBER 1941
Faster now, come on!
Sadler, don't let him catch you.
How do you like these, Tommy?
Come on.
Where the hell did you learn to drive like that, Paddy Mayne?
Now,
we will break off into four units
as before.
I'm guessing it's the same teams
as the last time we attacked these same airstrips?
Just to keep the scoring system fair.
Nope,
different teams, same team leaders because this whole exercise,
the whole North Africa campaign is about my team versus your team, Paddy.
Aye. Just as long as that is clear.
Gentlemen, this is a theatre of war, not a playground
and this time, it will be different cause now, the Germans are expecting us.
Every airstrip will be on high alert.
Even more fun, Jock.
So, now, perhaps... double points
for each plane destroyed?
Lewes, you will take Almonds and Riley to Nofilia airstrip. Fraser...
I want no part in this idiotic game.
You will go with Lewes,
but take four men and break off at the airstrip
to attack the airfield to the west.
And Paddy, just as the last time,
you will take Tamet
and I will take Sirte.
- Round two then, sir. - Oh, yes, round two.
- Can I come on your team then, sir? - Course you can, sweetheart.
- Stick with Uncle Paddy. - She's a keen kitten she is.
And whoever destroys the most aeroplanes tonight,
will win a bottle of 20-year-old
single malt Scotch whisky.
My father's favourite.
Now, I carry it with me in case I am fatally wounded.
Now I'm offering it as a prize
in our game.
Paddy, you've had a lot of whisky in your time,
nothing as good as this.
Considering your humble background.
Shall I stand between you two fucking idiots like a headmaster?
Myself, I prefer a poteen,
distilled in bathtubs,
but I will gladly take this piss off your hands when I win, sir.
Okay, men, check your weapons.
David,
what's this idiotic nonsense about a game?
No commanding officer has ever been able to control Paddy Mayne
because none of them understood him. He will fight against me come what may,
but now, he will try to attain dominance
by destroying enemy aircraft which...
is essential if we don't want Tobruk to fall.
Yes, but is it really clever strategy, David?
Or do you just want to win the game?
ROGUE HEROES
NOFILIA BEACH LIBYA
What time is it?
Two minutes to midnight.
We need to wait for the moon to set.
SIRTE COAST ROAD, LIBYA SAME TIME
Let's wait here for the moon to set.
Four miles to the airstrip,
coast road's just over that ridge.
We can't risk the vehicles any further.
Fuck the moon.
- There you are, sir. - Let's go.
TAMET AIRSTRIP, LIBYA SAME TIME
Cheeky bastards have put up fences.
Aye, cheeky fucks,
but it'll make it more fun this time.
We should wait for the moon to set, they'll see us.
No. The moon is our friend.
Patience is our enemy.
And besides, those who'd see us will soon be dead.
Listen.
Just as I thought, fences and searchlights this time.
Riley,
I want you to read this.
I'm not religious, sir.
If you're unable to read the print,
the light will be sufficiently bad for us to move.
Pass it here, Pat. That's my favourite.
And what are you doing, sir?
We have at least 15 more minutes so...
you read your Bible,
I'm going to pray in my own way.
My dearest Mirren,
it has been two weeks since I sent you my letter of marriage proposal.
I'm imagining that I haven't received a response
because of faults in the mail service.
We are now based on the planet Mars
and mail comes once every blue moon.
And speaking of the moon, every time I look at it, I think of you.
So damn corny, isn't it?
Like one of those awful Hollywood films.
But the moon gives me hope
that something so cold and remote can appear beautiful.
I believe I too, am considered cold and remote by some,
but I'm hoping that...
you might also consider me, if not beautiful, then, at least dependable.
And I hope that your answer to my proposal will be yes.
The light died just after, "thou shalt not kill", sir.
Well,
I can tell you the full commandment,
it's "thou shalt not kill, except in a very good cause".
Every day, Hitler sends innocents to their deaths.
So we have a very good cause.
Fraser,
take your men West,
we go East.
Go well, sir.
Good luck, boys.
All the best, lads.
Fuck. Fuck.
German reinforcements heading to Agheila to join Rommel.
We can't reach Sirte airstrip without crossing that road.
Fuck.
- Only five Messerschmitts on the strip. - Meaning what?
Five is five.
Five Messerschmitts taken out of action, British lives saved.
Yes, sir. I only wish there were more.
I don't care about the scores on the blackboard. None of us do.
Good.
Only monsters would keep count.
If that's Rommel's main relief column,
there'll be no break for 3 hours.
- There will be. - The Germans stay tight to prevent--
There will be a bloody break, Sadler.
I will get a break. I am owed a fucking break.
A wee light show for Stirling.
Bad dog.
It's like Paddy's lit another bonfire.
- Bravo. - What the fuck has he blown up?
Whatever it is, I imagine there's little doubt
about the destination of my father's favourite whisky.
My father would be so proud.
That's it. Road's clear, that's the last of them.
What time is it?
04:26.
Sunrise is at 04:40.
It's another 20 minute march to Sirte airstrip.
It's too late.
Looks like Lewes and Fraser have had some success too. Bravo.
Bravo.
Of course, of course,
the road became clear when it was already too late.
Or, imagine a more amusing possibility,
the road became clear because it was too late, there-in lies a crucial...
philosophical distinction.
InThe Iliad, Homer wrote,
"Fate is born with us, no man escapes it neither brave man nor coward."
What do you say, Sadler?
I say no one is talking of bravery or cowardice.
Indeed.
No one is talking at all.
If you see a brown stone lads, stay away from it.
Stirling!
Wee, Johnny,
I wanna write down the scores.
Why don't you leave it alone, Paddy?
What, 24 plus 27?
Fifty...
one.
Scare the Gerries off that.
Even though...
they took extra precautions,
I think we did rather well.
Wires, dogs,
wide-eyed boys notwithstanding.
- What caused all the fireworks? - 5,000 gallons of aviation fuel.
I'm not counting that in my tally.
What about you?
Who's getting the whisky?
The prize has gone, Paddy.
Some of it I drank, the rest... shot to pieces.
I decided it was a worthless gesture.
My strategy was ugly and vain
and a bottle of whiskey is not a fitting reward
for the resourcefulness and courage
you have shown over two very dangerous assignments. So,
I'm going to recommend to GHQ
that you be awarded
the Distinguished Service Order Medal and that you...
be promoted to the rank of Captain.
Congratulations, Captain Mayne.
The Special Air Service's first combat medal and first promotion.
Three cheers for Captain Paddy Mayne,
the mad bastard at Tamet strip.
Now you can try wearing the mantle of power yourself,
you useless Irish cunt.
You see, you...
you are the first commanding officer
that I have ever actually liked.
Where the hell is Lewes?
Mirren?
What are you doing?
I was asking my dear departed grandmother a question.
What question?
You're being very mysterious.
Where are we going?
My grandmother said yes,
so let's do it.
In the back of the car.
It's what all the young people in America do apparently.
Remember, you have to pull out.
I will, my love. I will.
I love you, Mirren.
- Oh, lord. - What?
- Quickly. For god's sake. - What do I do?
- Like this? - Yes.
Quicker.
Goodness.
Such a lot.
What?
Now you are ruined?
My dress is ruined.
Well, Mirren,
when we're married, there will be no need for strategic withdrawals.
You always resort to military terms when you're embarrassed.
Did you hear me?
I said, when we're married.
Jock.
Enemy aircraft, due south.
Everyone, fan out!
Watch out.
Almonds, head for the rocks! Everyone out. Fan out.
Grab your weapons, find cover.
Get the bren gun.
Scatter. Everybody, scatter. Go!
Get down, sir, there's another plane.
We've obviously made ourselves something of a priority. How flattering.
- Almonds, take cover! - Jim, come on.
Fuck off.
- Sir! - Sir!
Are you hit, sir?
They're swinging back round.
- Are you okay, sir? - Just head for the rocks.
I'll meet you there.
Sir, you have to run. Run.
Run. Walk would be a fine thing.
Sir, are you okay?
Sir!
Do you need help?
- We'll come and get you. - Get back behind the rocks.
They're coming again.
Jock.
In answer to your proposal, my love,
I really have to say no.
How can I marry a man who's already dead?
No.
I'm not dead.
I'm alive.
Mirren.
I'm not dead, Mirren!
I'll be with you in a moment.
- Quickly as I can. - Sir!
Sir, you're hurt. Wait, I'll come to you.
No, you will not go down there, that's a fucking order. I will not let you die.
Stay.
- Jock! - Jim, come back!
- Jock. - Sir, keep coming.
Almost there, darling.
There's only one vehicle.
I wonder if the German's have a blackboard.
Everyone alright, lads?
You alright, fellas?
Get them a drink.
Jock didn't make it.
What, what d'you mean?
What do you mean?
What do you think I mean?
No, where is he?
He's fucking dead.
Where is he?
He's where he fell.
- You left him? - I left him on your orders.
On SAS orders. S-A-fucking-S protocol.
You and your fucking order.
Do not attempt to retrieve the bodies of the fallen
as it will impede swift execution of the given mission, sir.
He's a bloody mess...
out in the sun.
Which is where we're all... we are all gonna be now that Jerry's onto us.
I actually...
didn't believe Jock Lewes was human.
Sir, put out your cigarette.
- Sir, put out your cigarette. - Fuck off!
Fuck off!
He died well.
Sand. Sand, quick.
So,
only the dreamer
and the madman left.
Who the fuck is gonna be the sensible one now?
Dear Jock, I received your letter this morning and I danced.
I actually danced with the letter in my hand
as if it was you I was dancing with.
Of course I will marry you, Jock.
Of course I will.
Parade.
Parade turn.
- Morning, gentlemen. - Morning, sir.
- He said good morning, gentlemen. - Good morning, sir!
Like fucking primary school.
Relax.
Well, if this is primary school,
I've had a message from the headmaster,
General Auchinleck himself. But...
before I tell you what he has to say,
the period of mourning for Lieutenant Jock Lewes is over.
Cooper,
hoist the flag.
Sir.
...Auchinleck expresses his astonishment
at the success that we have achieved in such a short space of time.
Having destroyed 90 enemy aircraft in three weeks,
we have exceeded the number destroyed by the RAF by a factor of three.
Fuck.
Paddy Mayne's DSO
has been confirmed and he has been promoted... to the rank of Captain.
Sir,
it's not working.
Right. Seekings, help that poor boy now.
Fucking gladly, sir.
Fraser has been awarded the Military Cross.
- Rope snagged? - Yeah.
And I have been promoted to the rank of Major.
Not so sure about that Cooper, I think it's the wheel.
It's the fucking rope, you oaf.
Hey, talk to me like that I will knock your bleedin' block off.
- Go on then. - Oh, for fuck sake.
In the bigger picture,
against the odds, we now have... the initiative,
this success is in thanks, in no small part,
to the work that you, the men of the SAS,
have carried out.
We achieve our success because we...
do things differently.
We achieve our goals in our own way.
Fuck wheels, fuck ropes, just tie the fucking thing.
And in recognition of your startling successes,
GHQ have awarded you all five days leave.
We may not be an official regiment but...
when you make your way to your bars and brothels in Cairo,
you will all be wearing...
one of these,
cap badges by Bob Tait.
The flaming sword
is the legendary sword, Excalibur.
The new jump wings...
were designed by Jock.
Those of you that can read would've read the motto on our badge.
Now, Paddy,
since you have... embodied the words best,
I will leave it to you to say them.
The new motto of the Special Air Service is,
drink rum,
fight dirty,
fuck the rules.
The new motto is,
Who Dares, Wins.
Who Dares,
Wins.
And we will continue to dare.
There are trucks on the way to take you all to Cairo,
wear the beret on your head and a condom on your massive cocks.
That'll be all.
Mutinous Irish cunt
requesting permission not to travel to Cairo, sir.
Here, lads, who ordered the fucking ice cream cones here?
So what's the white bonnet represent then ladies?
You girl scouts?
Let me see that.
Hold on to your hat lad, you shouldn't have done that.
What d'you think?
Which one of you lovely ladies wants to take me to Ascot, for lady's day?
What?
Remember, Davey boy,
even though we can't understand a fucking word
these Scotch wankers say,
they are British
and we're not...
allowed to kill them.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
Can't bear this thing fucking complaining.
Fuck off.
Jesus.
I'm sorry.
You're joking.
What the fuck's going on, Reg?
They don't like the colour of our berets.
Anybody else has an opinion on our fucking headgear, please step forward.
MP's, they're coming!
Although, I have to say,
regarding the colour of the new beret,
they do have a point.
I hear your new detachment's doing very well.
8It isn't really my detachment, it's Jock's detachment.
I suppose now it is mine.
Belongs to me and that...
madman.
- Here. - Thank you.
If you don't like canaries in cages, why did you get one?
So I can set it free,
you might think I'm compassionate.
- Are you not compassionate? - No.
I don't think I am.
To your victories.
Though you look like someone who is losing.
Yes.
I am a boy playing a game while my father watches,
as he always did.
If I don't score the most tries or make the most runs,
he won't speak to me all the way home.
Just the sound of the car engine, the windscreen wipers
and the thunderous roar of his silence.
Let's go out for a drink.
What's the rush?
No rush, I just wanna see the sunset from the balcony of the Empire Club.
Well I would, I would...
rather stay here.
Okay.
The truth,
there is someone I want you to meet.
Tonight.
Top secret.
And there was me thinking that you were with me because you liked me.
I'm trying very hard to only like you.
Come.
Eoin!
Your body's meat,
your spirit's here, I think.
I was gonna read you Homer, or Keats,
but then I thought fuck that,
I think I used to bore you with it and you were just being polite.
You remember that, that idiotic Percy French song we used to sing?
I'll sing you the Percy French thing and we'll have a laugh.
To run away, eh, Eoin?
How grand a life it would be to be a coward.
To love life that much.
We'll sleep here tonight, I think.
Dear God, I do hope this isn't your little surprise.
No, it isn't.
- He's seen us. - And he's drunk.
Stirling. Major Stirling now, I hear.
Although I believe you personally have achieved nothing.
I have something for you.
Seems my phantom regiment... has a new ethos.
Who Dares Wins.
Where the fuck did you get that?
Someone picked it off a barroom floor after a brawl.
My great friend, the Commissariat of Cairo Police
tells me there were seven fights
resulting in injury across the redlight district of Cairo
since 10 o'clock this morning.
Six of them involving men wearing the SAS beret.
Yes, they are men who will not back down if they are insulted.
I see.
And the choice of colour was deliberate?
Mr. Clarke, Eve and I are planning to have dinner.
You chose white to provoke confrontation.
You see, my dear, there's nothing like a barroom brawl to bring men together,
good for company morale.
Mr. Clarke, I am asking you politely,
leave us alone.
You are a specimen.
You've achieved nothing
yet you have the audacity to re-design my regiment's jump wings.
Thank you...
for bringing the SAS into being.
Thank you for returning the beret.
Now fuck off.
You'd better get her to teach you some French, old boy.
The French are coming your way
and they...
are the real deal.
What did he mean,
French coming my way?
Let's dance.
Come on.
What the fuck is this all about?
Perhaps you should ask General Auchinleck. He just arrived.
- General. - Sir, how do you do?
- You look very beautiful. - Thank you.
- Does he speak French? - I speak French.
- You two know each other? - A little.
Well, for business I'd prefer to use... English.
General Auchinleck, what brings you here?
Well, your success brings us here
and Captain Berge's request for help.
Please, allow me.
I will not want anyone to impose upon me,
therefore I don't... want to impose on you.
Right, impose what?
I have 20 of the toughest,
finest paratroopers in the French army under my command,
they're like wild dogs on leashes wanting to kill Germans.
Well we want to deploy them in the desert,
but they have to be trained.
Our chief training officer was killed in action.
Well, we'll find somebody else.
It's all been arranged
that we're sending French paratroopers to join you in Jalo.
Decided by who?
This was my idea.
And everything up until then has been part of the strategy?
My first priority is the execution of the war.
So is yours.
To begin with, you would only have to spare one man,
somebody left behind at Jalo to train the three French in desert warfare.
But in order to...
deal with my wild dogs you would have to be a very strong man.
When would this deployment begin?
Good man. Come and have a drink.
Can we get some chairs? Miss Mansour, please.
Now, you must tell me... all about your last few days.
Did you find him?
Yep.
Paddy,
GHQ...
are sending us a detachment of French
paratroopers.
We don't need any more men.
Well it's a direct order from Auchinleck himself.
And a favour to Charles de Gaulle, promised by Winston Churchill.
But...
we would need someone to train them, someone with experience,
someone to set up a training camp.
Train them to fight in this oven made of sand you see.
Who?
Well,
with Jock gone,
there is no one else experienced enough or tough enough.
I decided it has to be you.
So I stay in Jalo while you continue to go out on missions.
Yes, of course, we will continue our campaigns.
So the loser finds a way to win.
You know, my old dad,
Irish from both sides, stabbed
from both sides by men like you.
- Land owning gentry. - Paddy, there is no one else--
He said to me about life as a common man, he said...
You don't deserve my father's wisdom.
Right. Well listen, Paddy,
sometimes when you are in command,
you need to make difficult decisions,
not play the fucking piano and go sightseeing in the desert.
We're fucked.
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