You've got to feel sorry for Sergeant Hogg.
Lost an eye, poor fucker.
But on the plus side, half-price sunglasses.
And the Annual Wedge fancy-dress ball,
he can always go dressed as a pirate.
Maybe he could get a bionic eye, see through walls?
Oh, that'd be fucking mint!
Still, he's got his crown jewels. What more does he want?
It may be your dream to have more balls than eyes, Mac,
but maybe Sergeant Hogg would have...
EXPLOSION
'Bluestone 42.
'Bluestone 42, respond.'
COUGHING
MUFFLED: Skip? Skip?
Skip, you OK? Skip?
Zero Alpha this is... Oh, shit. The antenna's fucked!
~ Skip? Skip? ~ UNMUFFLED: GET OFF ME!
You're bleeding, you fucking numpty!
Oh, God, I'm bleeding! Man down! Man down!
Medic! Oh, I'm hurt.
Oh, actually... Actually, it's not that bad.
Oh, it's... No, that's stopped. I'll be fine.
I am fine.
Thanks for that reverse panic attack, Simon. Is anyone else hurt?
~ Bird? Towerblock? ~ I'm OK. ~ Fine. ~ Legs?
I'm fine. And I told you, don't fucking call me Legs.
~ So what is your name? ~ It's Private Leggatt.
You're not helping yourself. How are we in the cab?
~ All right. ~ Fine.
OK, so we're all OK.
No, we're not!
I've lost all my Haribo.
Bloody hell, Rocket!
'Hello, Bluestone 42.
'This is Zero, respond. Over.'
I'm fucking trying. Radio's fucked.
CHATTERING
OK, everyone, shut up! Breathe.
Legs, I want you to tell the other vehicles we're all OK
but we're going to give it a 30-minute soak.
Everyone's OK, 30-minute soak.
Guys, this is our lucky day.
~ Bollocks! ~ CHATTERING
No, no, listen. We all survived. Now, that's lucky.
We have tweaked the nose of death
and we have lived to tell the tale.
Bollocks we have.
The mastiff's designed with a V-shaped hull,
shock mounted seating...
You are not listening, Towerblock.
OK, the main thing is no-one's really hurt
and we all got a lovely burst of adrenaline.
Ooh, found one.
No, I haven't.
~ Ah! ~ THEY LAUGH
Towerblock, what the fuck?
It's just a game, boss.
~ What's it called, Punching People In The Head? ~ You've heard of it?
You take it in turns to punch each other in the head
when they're not expecting it.
I had the punch, I punched Mac, now Mac has the punch.
~ Can I play? ~ Aye.
~ Ow! ~ HE LAUGHS ~ OK...
Stop it now.
And thank you, Towerblock, for introducing my infantry escort
to this charming game, particularly at this tactically low-risk moment.
OK, so, we had a close call but, balls on the table...
~ Uh! ~ ... this was my fault. ~ Oh, come on, boss.
There's no way you could have known...
No. We know this is a blind spot, we should've
barma-ed the road but I'm going to get us all back to base
like a bunch of fucking legends.
Ah! Got ye.
~ What? ~ Back to base like a bunch of fucking legends
and the padre will be all over you.
"Ooh, you're my hero.
"Come to my bosom. In fact, come on my bosom. Oh!"
Oi! Mac, show some respect. She's a major,
she's a padre, she's a decent woman.
Ah! So you've finally fucked her?
What?
~ No. ~ You gave her one. You feel bad about it,
so suddenly she's a decent woman.
Yeah, well, I haven't, actually, so... I haven't.
Bird, has he fucked the padre? Yes or no.
~ No. ~ There you go, fucked her, QED.
~ Did you really? ~ Oh, right, thanks a bunch, Bird.
I fucking said "no"! He totally has though.
Holy shit, boss!
~ I hope this doesn't compromise the pastoral care. ~ All right, enough.
MASTIFF CREAKS
And you know what? I could do worse than Mary.
I HAVE done worse, I've done a lot worse.
Not you, Bird.
I didn't mean to look at you when...
ANYWAY, we've got to get to safety.
I can't believe you, you know, had sexual intercourse with her.
You know what?
I think that Mary and I might actually
~ have a fucking future together. ~ I mean, this is huge.
That's what she said!
Er, it's not that huge.
Yes, all right. I said "enough"!
Right, now, because there is a high chance of ambush,
we're going to do everything in the right order, yeah?
So we don't all get, you know, killed.
So, 30-minute soak, relax, spin some dits.
Yes. Take a moment to smell the roses...
whatever that smell is.
Yeah, and also let's not just walk out into an ambush.
So, here's the plan. What we're going to...
MASTIFF CREAKS
~ Shit! ~ Boss? Nick? Nick? Shit.
Nick! Nick!
~ Slap him, wake him up. ~ Shut up, Mac.
Thought you'd want to slap him after what he said about the padre.
It's fucking serious. OK. We need to move him,
get him into the recovery position, check his airways.
~ Grab his legs, Simon. ~ Easy, easy, easy!
OK, there's a medic in the Jackal.
We search our way over...
Hang about, what happened to wait here, 30-minute soak time?
He needs a medic, numbnuts.
He's breathing.
Oh, thank you, Dr Fuckwit MD.
~ Get those doors open now! ~ Don't!
Excuse me, I'm in charge here.
I'm just doing what the boss said and I'm number two so...
Number two.
~ Number twos are jobbies. ~ I was Acting Sergeant
but turned down promotion to stay with this bunch of twats.
That was quite touching, actually.
All right, then. Act like a sergeant. Think about your men.
What happens when we get out there?
We could walk into an ambush. Bang-bang, he's dead.
Bang-bang, HE'S dead. People running for cover
and then what if there's secondary devices? Boom! That's him.
Not so lucky now.
And then he wakes up because he's only knocked out
and he's basically fine,
and these lot are all in body bags cos you weren't thinking straight.
~ Want to know what I think? ~ No.
As the boss said,
the safest place to be is in a heavily armoured metal box.
I've found one!
OK. OK, we stay put.
But he isn't "basically fine". No ambush, no secondaries,
we get him to a hospital but half an hour later than we could.
Too late, he's dead and we spend years feeling like shit
because we didn't get him a fucking medic.
So this is me thinking straight, OK?
We search our way over to the other vehicle now.
Fine, fine, we'll do it your way. Rocket, Simon,
hold me out the back.
Legs, tell the other vehicles we need a medic now.
Oi! We need a medic.
By the way, my unit call me 50-cal.
Shut up, Legs.
~ Medic's here. ~ How's the ATO?
Passed out, breathing normally.
He's not bleeding.
With you ASAP. Rest of you OK?
I've sustained mild injuries but I'm fine.
Quite lucky, actually.
Such tenderness, such care.
All right, Mac. I fucked him once, ages ago
when we were drunk and we said we'd never speak of it again.
How's that going?
I don't even fancy him. HE MIMICS A KLAXON
I don't! HE MIMICS A KLAXON
Fuck off! I've seen far too much of his bullshit to still fancy him.
"Still"? So you fancied him once?
Briefly. HE LAUGHS
~ Oi, you fuckwits, you nearly dropped ~ me then! Sorry.
~ And now you're not over him. ~ I am!
HE MIMICS A KLAXON I fucking am, all right?
I don't think about him, I don't care who he's shagging,
has shagged, wants to shag... I simply don't care what he wants.
NICK GRUNTS
Nick?! Nick?!
You know what you should do to get over him?
Before you go on, does this involve me having a threesome
with you and Rocket's mum?
Mmm, ideally
but there's more than one way to skin a cat...
as we found out when we had all those feral cats.
All right, if I wasn't over him - which I am -
what should I do? Which I'm not going to do.
You make a list of all his bad points.
Then whenever you start fancying him again, just bring out the list.
Genius, I'd deffo do that if I wasn't over him,
which I totally am.
And...
you could draw a cock and balls on his forehead.
You cannae fancy someone with a cock and balls on his forehead.
I'm totally doing that.
So, tell me what's happened.
An ammo box dropped on his head.
Probably a bit of concussion.
Oh, and Simon's gone mental, keeps saying today's his lucky day.
Probably a bit of a cunt.
~ Blimey, best medic ever! ~ I'm not going to fuck you.
~ You two vallon round the vehicle. ~ OK. ~ On it.
He's been out for five minutes.
~ Five minutes? ~ What? What is it?
You didn't draw a cock and balls on his head?
Well, I couldn't find a marker pen amongst all this crap.
♪ I should be so lucky
♪ Lucky, lucky, lucky
♪ I should be so lucky in love. ♪
Bit of medical advice - stop fucking singing
or I'll stab you in the larynx.
So, relief company's on their way, still no secondaries.
Right. I'd best get some evidence phots for the boss.
Oh, and, Bird, good call with the medic,
you were probably right.
Probably right or was actually right?
Sound similar but are quite different.
OK. I just thought your judgment was off cos you and Nick have, er...
Oh, Jesus Christ! It was one fuck.
Which is precisely one more fuck than the amount of fucks
I give about Nick Medhurst right now.
So will people please stop fucking going on about it?!
Not over him.
Too right. Here, Simon, pass us the forensic kit.
Sure thing, daddio!
~ Bloody hell, dickwad! ~ You are very welcome.
Fuck was that?
~ A punch. ~ It's no your go. ~ Oh. ~ I've got the punch.
Oh!
Fair play. And you still owe me one so...
Oh, aye.
Oh!
It's no so good when you're expecting it.
I wasn't expecting it.
But you just asked me to punch you.
Oh, aye.
So now you can punch me.
Brilliant!
No! You've got to do it when I'm not expecting it.
Right. Are you expecting it now?
Aye!
Oh!
THEY GIGGLE
Oi! It's for Weapons Intelligence.
~ WISWO! ~ So you're saying we need to look intelligent? ~ Ooh, photo op.
No.
Oh, come on, Towerblock, one for the album.
The day of destiny.
Nothing like a near miss to put things in perspective.
A near miss, Simon, or a direct hit?
Help us put aside our petty squabbles.
Right.
Oh. Oh, actually, yeah, that's a good idea.
~ Yeah, forgive and forget. ~ Oh, he's getting it.
So you, for example, won't be
at all bothered that I broke your iPod speakers.
~ What? ~ Yeah, I mean, on a day like today,
that just doesn't matter, does it?
Exactly. They're just speakers.
Big deal.
Sorry, how exactly did you break them?
They just stopped working.
Sure, sure. Who cares?
They were quite robust those.
They're just some high-street electronics
that you can replace for, what? 20 quid? Something like that.
They were £39.99, but whatever.
Glad to see we're discussing the retail price of things,
rather than, I don't know,
say, The Taliban, secondary devices, general warry shit.
Sorry. Anyway, I don't think there'll be any secondaries,
not today. Not now Lady Luck is playing our favourite...
Bird, secondary.
Mark and avoid.
Sorry, Simon, you were saying?
~ Well, it's... ~ Bird, another one!
Two...
Of course there are secondaries, Towerblock, this is Afghanistan
but we haven't been ambushed, have we?
Nobody's shooting at us so...
~ BULLETS RICOCHET ~ Cover! ~ Get down! ~ Take cover!
Where the fuck are they? Can anyone see?
They're bloody close.
Shit! They shot me in the fucking head!
Technically, the helmet.
Lucky you, see?
Are you fucking mental?!
Not now, you fucking moron!
You said when you don't expect.
How many are there?
Half a dozen?
Eight?
Ten? Shit! Mac, rocket on me.
Enemies. Multiple ten, 150 metres.
RAPID FIRE!
~ Everything all right, loves? ~ Boss, get back inside!
No fucking heroics, Sir.
You need to be careful in case there's a subcranial bleed.
I'm feeling both tickety and boo.
Yeah, that's the funny thing about bleeding around the brain.
I had one recently. REME Sergeant banged his head on a Jackal.
Out cold, came to,
lucid for about two hours and then... he dropped dead.
SHE CHUCKLES
It's not VERY funny, is it?
Oh, you'll be fine... probably.
OK, we need to think about an extraction plan, so...
INCOMING!
We've got minutes before they get the aim right on those.
We are fucked!
Oh, fucking hell!
Man down! Medic!
Oh, shit!
Coming!
Don't operate any heavy machinery, avoid stressful situations.
I'll do my best.
Private Sykes, down there.
~ We'll cover you. ~ OK. Oh, if I die,
~ make sure Captain Medhurst gets a scan. ~ What for?
Subcranial bleed. You don't want him to drop dead over dinner.
Unless it's jelly. Boing!
I should go.
Covering fire!
Where did you get shot, you useless prick?
Nice day for it.
Boss, get back in the van! We've got this.
Really? Cos it looks like a gale-force shit storm
~ that you totally haven't got. ~ Incoming!
~ Jesus! ~ Fuck me!
~ Taliban are moving. ~ They're trying to flank us.
Roger that.
What's that?
I'm getting a sort of high-pitched whine.
~ What? ~ Eh? Boss, you're concussed.
No, I'm fine but I can definitely hear something.
Bird! They're moving round the side.
Right, here's the plan -
we bugger the fuck off.
OK. We use the dead ground to the north of that track,
keep our arses low, make our way to those vehicles and...
Oh, fuck me!
OK, so let's not do that.
~ OK. New plan - we leave by that road. ~ Yeah, but it's riddled
~ with IEDs. ~ That's because it's the best route out.
We bring back Sykes, I blow the devices in situ.
We get back to base like fucking legends...
~ But you're... ~ .. and whatever Mac was imagining me doing with Mary,
I am totally doing with Mary.
Please tell me that is not why you're going down there.
Of course not. Not entirely.
Towerblock, back me up!
He's in no state to start fucking about with explosives.
You're right. She's right.
Look, Boss, we keep our position here, the Apaches will be here soon.
And they will have a fantastic view of a dead ATO, a dead bleep
and a dead... what does he do again?
You are fucked in the head, Boss!
I'm kidding, I'm fine.
No, you weren't! The medic said you need a scan.
Oh, shit, I forgot my pocket MRI. Right, PE7.
Whoa!
I just stood up too fast - I am fine.
Boss...?
We're going to run short on ammo if this carries on much longer.
Try hitting them, Skip.
Thank you, McDowell(!)
It's OK, everyone, choppers are here!
NO ROTOR SOUND / ONLY GUNFIRE
No...
No, it was just that whining noise again, it's gone.
Right - I'm going down.
You can't use a vallon, your hearing's all over the place.
They do vibrate as well, you know. I am as steady as a rock.
Enough twatting about now, Boss. I'm coming down there with you.
~ One man risk. ~ No. This man, massive risk.
Two men, and we might just get everyone out of here.
I do not need you!
I promise that I will not tell the padre that you had help.
SHE SIGHS EXASPERATEDLY
All right, go get a vallon and some PE7.
~ Happy? ~ No!
Good. Right, we need both of those two back here now.
Rocket! Go and give the Medic a hand bringing back Sykes.
Roger that.
They're moving again.
~ In three - one, two, three. ~ Go, go, go.
Right, we need a metric fuck-ton of covering fire.
Boss, this is insane!
Your mum is... Zing!
Right. I made that list.
Aye?
He's arrogant, doesn't listen, self-obsessed,
sexually incontinent, childish, petty
and he keeps making stupid jokes about being concussed.
If your list is that long, I don't think you're over him at all.
Bollocks! Oh, I'm not, am I?
He's a lanky, posh twat and I'm not bloody over him.
Shit! Fuck!
Argh! Shitting fucking fuckballs!
Told you.
Right, Boss, you're up.
Right, what's your advice now, then?
Let me guess, punch him in the head?
No, violence never solves anything.
If he goes on about Mary, just nod and smile and move on.
Uh-huh. Thanks for the girlie chat, Mac.
No bother.
So much easier with men.
And a gun.
What am I doing again?
Oh, yeah - bombs.
Erm...
Just stay still, would you?
Huh.
Home time!
You fucking ARE concussed!
What? No, it's dodgy oysters.
What?
Shit, get in the mastiff!
All right, all right!
Right, order of march. Mac, you go point.
Grab the vallon, search beyond the devices.
Simon, go last man. Everyone squared?
Any questions?
Do I still have the punch?
Ah, look, the not-particularly-quick Reaction Force is here.
Nick! Nick, are you all right?
Yeah, I'm fine, shut up.
GUNFIRE
Let's go, superstars!
Good work, Boss.
Genuinely can't remember what I did.
You will tell Mary what I did, right?
HELICOPTER ROTORS WHIRR
Ah, now I can hear Apaches.
♪ You couldn't care less
♪ So I guess you won't
♪ Change your mind again. ♪
Home, sweet home.
Hello, Captain. Wasn't expecting you back so soon.
This won't be smoked for hours.
Is that ham? Out here?
Ham-style goat.
Mmm, tasty.
Erm, yeah! Very tasty.
Worth every penny.
~ Is the padre in? ~ I think so.
You need to see the medic.
Padre first.
Nick...
He needs to go to Bastion for a scan.
Ah! The eternal bond between the ATO and his bleep. Touching(!)
Carry on.
Sir.
♪ I'm not in love, so don't forget it
♪ It's just a silly phase I'm going through. ♪
Yes! Better!
Oh...
So, Mary...
Now, this isn't going to sound like me and I don't think
it's the concussion talking, and I am definitely not ruling out
another fantastic fuck on the desk, but...
I've realised something today.
You and me, we've got...
.. very little in common.
So you are...?
I'm the new padre, Keith Turnbull.
Is there anything I can help with?
Where's Mary... May... Major Greenstock?
She requested a transfer. Urgently.
And now we know why.
Shit.
Really?
Bloody hell.
Here's your speakers. The light comes on, but there's nothing doing.
~ Oh, yeah, sometimes the volume resets to zero. ~ Eh?
MUSIC: Beautiful Day By U2
Hmm? See? Some days do just work out for the best.
Here's to fate, destiny and Lady Luck!
Jesus, ah!
Shit! Fucking hell!
It's just not your lucky day, is it, Simon?
~ Yeah, well, you owe me £39.99, Towerblock. ~ Nick!
They should be water resistant!
She's gone, Bird.
What?
Mary.
She's gone.
Really?
Shit, who am I going to take the piss out of now?
Too soon?
I genuinely thought we could have...
Never mind.
Right, you. CAT scan. Transport in ten.
Cheers. Hey, maybe Mary's still at Bastion!
If I can find her, then...
Oh, Boss, if it wasn't for your possible subcranial bleed,
I would punch you in the head.
~ What?! ~ Instead, I've got to do this.
Oof!
Stop going on about fucking Mary!
Yes, I know.
I've just had an idea for a new game -
kicking people in the balls!
OK.
Oh!
Brilliant.
MAC LAUGHS