Episode 1 Bluestone 42

HELICOPTER WHIRRS

This programme contains strong language and adult humour.

LOUD WHIRRING

MAN SPEAKS ON RADIO

He does this on missions!

He goes into himself!

Focusing on what lies ahead!

LOUD WHIRRING

Round about now, I pretend to go into myself,

so Millsy will stop talking to me!

MAN SPEAKING ON RADIO

-AMERICAN ACCENT:

-I had a buddy of mine, did what you do!

Back in Fallujah! He got blown to shit!

Man! Fallujah was crazy!

Hey, did I tell you about the time I took a dump

in one of Saddam's palaces?

-SCOTTISH ACCENT:

-That's nothing! I once took a dump in a Tesco Metro!

-Freezer section!

-Ha-ha-ha-ha!

I was in Iraq the first time!

Er...with the Service. Desert Storm!

-What service?

-The service!

What service?

The CIA!

Have that man shot!

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

When I was in Fallujah, we were...

Sorry, sir! We're coming in to land!

We all have to be absolutely silent!

Is that a security thing?

Yeah! Yeah, we don't want the enemy to hear us coming!

-What?!

-I said...

Oh, forget it.

Whoo!

CHATTER ON RADIO

Left...left a bit.

Left.

Left. Left.

Left!

-Everything in hand, Bird?

-Yes, Nick.

-Left a bit more.

-Look, Bird, do you want to drive it?

Thank you very much!

CRUNCH

-HE SNIGGERS

-You crashed the robot, huh?

It was pulling to the right,

and if they let me maintain him, rather than the techs doing it...

-Him?

-It.

Maintain it, the robot...thing. I haven't named it.

Ah, I don't know why you'd let a lady drive it anyway!

Ha-ha-ha-ha!

OK, er...Simon? I think our visitor

should maybe observe Mac and Rocket's, er...

To be honest, I only get one word in ten that they say.

I mean, what part of England are they from?

-Scotland!

-We're frae Scotland!

-For fuck's sake.

What? You see?

Sir, please, for your own safety, if you could stay inside the vehicle.

I know it's a hot day.

Yeah, all right, fine.

Newsflash, Brits!

The weather is not as interesting as you think it is!

Right...my turn.

Back in a mo.

Boss on the move.

-HORN SOUNDS

-Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!

No, no, no, no, no! You can't come through!

You need some help? Let me handle this. Hey!

Hey, hey! Everybody!

Shut the fuck up!

-You're welcome.

-BIKE REVS

Who needs an interpreter when you can just shout, eh?

-AMERICAN ACCENT:

-When I was in Fallujah, I shouted at everybody!

Mac! Rocket!

ON RADIO: 'OK, Millsy, it's a bog-standard pressure plate.

'The battery pack's exposed.

'I'm gonna target it with the disruptor

'then come back for the hook and line.'

-Boss.

-LOW CHATTER

Mac. Rocket. I don't like the atmospherics.

Whoo! Eyes on.

You get used to the heat, but it's the dust. Damn!

Yeah.

Oh, er...sir?

If you could just keep your helmet...

You know, kid, listen, when I was in Fallujah...

GUNSHOTS

Fuck!

Man down! Medic! Everyone cover!

GUNFIRE

Oh! Right! Bluestone 42. 200 metres.

One snipe by 11 o'clock!

Building...the only building here.

GUNFIRE

Whoa!

Contact left! Tree line at ten o'clock!

There! Crossing! Go, go, go, go!

Charlie Charlie 1, this is Bluestone 42. Contact. Wait out.

Bird! Cat D!

Hello, Diamond 21. This is Bluestone 42. Contact,

Yellow 12. 1 Cas, Cat D.

We are engaging. Sit rep to follow. Out.

Pam! Pam! Tell me we haven't lost him!

-We haven't lost him!

-Have we lost him?

-We've lost him.

-Shit!

-Arthur!

-Bird? Who's Arthur?

No-one!

Well, you guys were taking too long.

OK, Bluestone 42. Listen up.

We've got a man down,

so we can either go home and stare into space

or we can deal with this IED, and every other IED,

until the bastards that plant them die of old age or boredom,

or of...well, I don't know what.

HELICOPTER WHIRRS

Drills and skills.

-OTHERS:

-Yes, boss.

Crack on.

-BIRD:

-Hello, Diamond 11, this is Bluestone 42. Over.

Diamond 11, this is Bluestone 42.

VEHICLE RUMBLES AND SQUEAKS

-AMERICAN ACCENT:

-Hey! This is just like in Fallujah!

When I was in the service in Fallujah... Pow!

Show some respect, would you, Mac?

Too soon, aye?

Fucking yes!

PLANES ROAR

What's the first rule of hospitality?

Is it something to do with cutlery?

Don't shoot the guests.

-Sir, we did warn him that....

-Don't shoot them.

The Americans are going to be furious.

You know he saw a lot of action in Desert Storm?

We were aware of that, sir.

-And he was in Fallujah.

-Oh, really?

So, everyone sees the Padre, individually.

-I thought he'd transferred.

-New one arrived an hour ago.

-Sir, about the incident...

-Not now, Corporal. Grown-ups talking.

Now, as much as I love to visit this charming patrol base,

please ensure my next visit

is not accompanied by a hairy great shit-storm. All right?

Get this written up ASAP.

Sir, I'll personally write up a full report on the incident.

-Good. Carry on.

-Millsy?

-Boss.

Write up a full report on the incident.

-Yes, boss.

-Nick. Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick.

Is the Lieutenant Colonel pissed off with me?

He doesn't think it's my fault?

I mean, there's nothing else we could have done.

Look, I know, Simon. It's fucking awful, but we just have to move on.

Sort out everyone to see the new Padre.

Except me. I'm not talking to some God-botherer

about inner feelings I don't even have.

Not a problem, boss. I'll find out when she's free.

-Good. What?

-I'll find out when she's free.

-She?

-Mary.

The new Padre. She's going to be based here, apparently.

Holy mother of shit.

-I'll handle this.

-Honestly...

Oh, my eye!

Captain Nick Medhurst. ATO. Stands for

Ammunition Technical Officer. It means bomb disposal expert. You know,

the guy who takes his life in his own hands on a daily basis.

But whatever. Call me Nick.

Er...Mary Greenstock. Padre.

Means...I'm Padre.

Ha-ha! Sorry. Um...I heard about the man down.

Yeah, between you and me, he was a bit of a bell-end.

Obviously, it's a big shock. It's a...massive terrible shock.

We were hoping you might have a word with some of the lads.

Starting with me. Simon, go and help Millsy with that report.

-But I thought...

-No time to lose, Simon.

-Colonel wants it ASAP.

-Yes, boss.

Cup of tea?

-That the report?

-Yup.

Millsy...

It's for my lot, Simon. It's not for your lot.

I know we're from different regiments,

but we're on the same team.

You and me, corporals together.

You're a lance corporal.

Yes, but...come on.

OK, look, I just need to know where you were when the shot was fired.

Just put, "There was nothing we could have done to prevent it."

OK.

Um...

No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Not "very little we could have done".

Nothing. Nothing we could have done.

No thing.

No...no thing.

Millsy! What's wrong with you? Not "almost nothing".

Not "practically nothing". Nothing.

-But...

-What could we have done?

-Tell me that.

-OK.

The moment he took his helmet off,

you could have wrestled him to the ground.

You wanted me to wrestle

a CIA former special-forces Iraq veteran to the ground.

-Would have saved his life.

-Yeah, but it wouldn't have saved mine.

Because he'd have killed me!

Nothing.

-Nothing, short of wrestling him...

-Oh, give that here!

He's quick. He is quick.

-So, poor Colonel Carter.

-Yes, tragic loss.

A great soldier.

Five minutes ago, he was a bit of a bell-end.

That would be the grief talking. Anger. Denial.

-Sadness.

-It must have been very traumatic

-for your whole team.

-Yeah. They are a bit shaken up.

So, if anyone needs to come and talk to me, I'll drop everything.

Well, I was thinking the two of us could spend some time...

The young lads particularly. It can hit them very hard.

-Give it back!

-I just want tae borrow your wank mag!

Get off!

-This your mum, Rocket?

-Go fuck yourself.

I'm trying to.

THUD Padre.

Padre, this is Mac and Rocket.

They're both privates, appropriately enough.

Guys, if you wanted to drop in, have a chat,

you know, after what happened to Colonel Carter...

He took his fucking helmet off!

Ma'am.

It was...pretty full on.

-AMERICAN ACCENT:

-Not as full on as Fallujah, huh?

Not now, Mac.

Still too soon, aye?

-Yeah.

-Fuck.

-Toffee?

-BOTH:

-Brilliant.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go and see a man about a wank.

-All right, Bird?

-Fucking amateurs.

Bird, Padre. Padre, Bird.

Er...does everyone call her that?

Bird's my name. Lynda Bird.

I don't have a problem with that,

and I don't think anyone else does...ma'am.

Oh. Sorry.

Toffee? And if you also want to come in for a chat...

I heard about what happened this morning.

Yeah. Messy.

Have you seen the robot?

REME don't have a bloody clue what they're doing.

What, a team of highly trained technicians don't have a bloody...

-They are wrecking him.

-Him?

It.

Wrecking it.

I haven't named the robot, OK?

Well, you should. He'll be annoyed.

I'm not some dappy cow who's got a name for their Nissan Micra.

Oh, I used to call mine Bertie.

And that's why you're a Padre and I'm a soldier.

Just one of the lads, yeah?

Well, even lads have a sensitive side, so...

-SHE BELCHES

-Yeah.

-Er...my door's always open.

-Uh-huh.

Winning their trust, it always takes a while.

Actually, it would probably help if I came out into the field with you.

Could I do that?

Couldn't you just stay here and pray or something?

It's just we try not to take passengers.

You took Colonel Carter.

Yeah, and look what happened to that twat.

May he rest in peace.

Sorry, Padre, you've only just arrived. It's not going to happen.

All right?

Ooh, you look like a cat that's just been spayed.

-Huh?

-Nick knock you back?

Yeah, I wanted to...

Oh, no, no, no. Not like that.

-I'm the Padre, so...

-No shagging?

Er...let's just say I'd be looking for the right context.

-No shagging till you're married?

-Well, as a Christian, I think it is

important to save that particular act...

-So, you don't want to shag him?

-It's more a case of...

-Simple yes or no's what I'm looking for.

-I'm not...

-Just curious. Yes or no?

-It's...I just...

-Yes or no? Yes or no?

-I'd rather...

-Listen.

It's a simple question. Yes or no?

-It's really not quite that...

-OK.

OK, fine.

Oral?

Oh...!

-So, did ye...defrock her?

-Sorry?

Sister Mary. Did you get your winkle up her wimple?

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

Do you really fancy that new Padre?

You can't fancy the Padre.

She's...the Padre. Oh, it'd be like shagging God.

-She's a good-looking woman.

-A MILF?

A NILF! A nun he'd like to fuck.

-She's not a nun, she's a vicar.

-A VILF.

Hang on. She's called Sister Mary, but she's not a nun?

You're the ones calling her Sister,

and she is C of E so everything is negotiable.

HE HOOTS

-Cat flap and back door?

-You, Mac, will be struck down.

Aye. But I'll die wi' a smile on my face.

So, listen, guys, this morning was tough,

but what happened wasn't your fault, OK, and... Oh, hi, Mary.

Have you heard anything about this funeral?

Funeral?

Apparently, Colonel Carter expressed a wish to be buried in action.

-Er...he wanted what?

-Is that a real thing?

Right! Let's get to it! BIA.

-BIA?

-Mm. Buried In Action.

So, we'll need a grave dug. Mac, Rocket.

-TOGETHER:

-Oh, for fuck's sake!

Simon. There's no such thing as being buried in action.

Well, there might have to be,

because this came direct from the CIA.

Look, we're not going to... CIA.com.

-Yep, we are pretty much doing this.

-Get digging! Now.

-Please, no, Skip.

-Guys.

We're off. Suspected IED in Red 32. Transport in 20 minutes.

Er...we could take Carter wi' us, save us the work.

If we do a controlled explosion... Pupp! Pop him in that.

Pkow!

-Jesus, Mac.

-What?

It's what he would have wanted.

-Robot's in working order again, boss.

-Is he?

-It, boss. It is.

-OK.

Well, send him down.

Bird, did you pick up anything from the new Padre?

-Er...mixed signals, boss.

-Really?

I mean, she does know how fucking brave I am, right?

I mean, I am the bomb guy.

Risking life and limb.

-Saving orphans.

-Yeah, yeah. Yeah.

-What does your women's intuition say?

-Get the big guns out.

Understood.

Good work, Bird.

-Arthur!

-OTHERS SNORT

OK, he's not called Arthur.

Well, er...he is now. Come on, Arthur.

Come on, Arthur, climb the ditch.

Come on, Arthur. You can do it, Arthur.

Oh. Well, would you look at that? Arthur just became Martha.

-Ha-ha(!)

-OK, boss, it's your turn.

-Let's get you into the suit.

-Ah, Millsy, no, please.

It's 50 degrees in the shade. Don't make me put it on.

It's actually two degrees cooler

than it was yesterday, boss. Come on.

So, what's your laptop called, then, Bird?

-It's called a Toshiba A30X.

-Or Douglas to its friends.

-What, so you've never named anything?

-Naw!

-I named my cock.

-Oh, yeah.

How is Andy McNab?

Why would you name your cock Andy McNab?

Cos he's seen so much active service.

I thought it was cos it was so hard to find.

I thought it was cos it always comes out with bollocks.

Oh, very good, very good indeed.

Shall I fetch the robot, boss?

-Nah.

-You mean Arthur?

If you call him Arthur one more time, you might find

that Andy McNab has been cut off behind enemy lines.

That's when Andy's at his strongest. He'll live off nuts and berries.

That doesn't make any fucking sense.

Let's do this.

Boss? Boss, what is it? What have you got?

Oh, you're gonna like this one, Millsy.

-What is it?

-It's a Walkman, Millsy.

You made me put on this baking hot suit for a bloody Walkman under a bloody rock.

# Slam it to the left If you're having a good time

# Shake it to the right If you know that you feel fine... #

Hey, it still works.

# Slam it to the left If you're having a good time

# Shake it to the right... #

MUSIC STOPS

I don't think it does.

Boss? Boss, I've got a couple of questions about the report.

Simon keeps saying that there was absolutely...

And march.

-Knock, knock?

-Come in.

Hi. Sorry I'm late.

I know we said six, but, er...we had a call-out.

Red 32 can be pretty hairy.

I heard you found a Walkman.

Yes.

But you fill one of those bad boys with the right stuff,

it could take your arm off.

I was so excited when I got my first Walkman. I was eight.

-Were you?

-Yeah, it was pink. I put stickers on it.

-Did you?

-Ah, innocent times.

Mm. Can I give you a finger?

-What?

-Of Scotch.

-Confiscated from a reporter.

-Oh.

-So, are you allowed "the booze"?

-Are you?

-No.

-Well, me neither.

Apart from communion. You have to have wine for communion.

Yes, you do. I pretty much have to have wine for communion.

-KNOCK AT DOOR

-Boss. Padre.

Sorry to interrupt.

It's just, um...when you sent me away before,

was that one of your jokes?

Because I've got a question about the report.

In fact, even if it wasn't,

I've still got a question about the report.

Actually, I've got two questions and a subsidiary question and...

-Ooh, Scotch.

-No, it isn't.

Just sort it out with Simon.

The Padre and I were just talking about communion.

Oh, right. Do you use Scotch for communion?

You have to in Scotland.

Really? Church is very popular there.

-Yes, and they deep-fry the wafers.

-Oh.

Now, off you fuck.

Oh.

So, where were we?

-Cheers.

-Cheers.

So, look at you, breaking all the rules.

Contrary to popular belief,

I'm not a nun and I wasn't always a Christian.

-Really?

-Yeah. I've done some...

you know...shit.

But we're not here to talk about me.

Well, we could be.

So, how are you, Nick?

Well, maybe I'm becoming too battle-hardened.

When Colonel Carter died,

I just felt nothing.

Some mild irritation at the paperwork.

That wasn't even that bad in the end. Got Millsy to do it.

I just worry that, um...

I worry that I'm becoming cold.

In need of warmth.

Yes?

Well, er...

it's the solitude.

You know, you, er...you walk to the device alone. You work alone.

One mistake, and you die alone.

I remember my first bomb after I lost my best mate.

Steve.

Good ATO.

It was just outside al Hartha.

We had a report of multiple devices on the main road into Basra city.

-It was just coming up to 1100 hours...

-Can I just stop you there?

I'm going to go out on a limb here, but I think it's only fair to say,

however this story ends, I'm not going to sleep with you.

Well, this has been great. Thanks for listening. I feel better already.

-Bye now.

-Bye.

Mm.

Whoa! Whoa!

-Yeah, yeah.

-What, what, what?

I said six foot deep, not six foot wide!

-Come on!

-Bird, a word.

Boss?

-You're a woman.

-Boss.

What's Mary's problem?

I mean, usually by now it'd be game over. I save lives.

The only thing sexier than a man with a gun who shoots people

is a man with a gun who doesn't shoot people.

I've got a gun. I haven't shot anyone.

Well, hardly anyone. I mean, seriously?

OK, what did she say?

She said, "I'm not going to sleep with you."

-That's not very Christian.

-Thank you!

I mean, come on!

-Did you do the al Hartha story?

-Yes. Nothing.

Maybe she's got quite a strong bullshit detector.

That is a true story.

Yeah. But it didn't happen to you, did it?

-Happened to Captain Ryerson.

-Yeah, we swapped.

He uses my Belfast story, cos it works better with his accent.

Look, there's nothing else for it.

You're gonna have to let her see you in action.

What on earth do you think you're doing, digging a bloody great hole in my base?

It's for Colonel Carter, sir.

Given the tragic nature of his death,

we wanted to give him a good send-off.

There is nothing that we could have done to prevent...

What's the first rule? Don't dig up the base!

-Padre said...

-Don't dig it up.

Stop showing initiative, Lansley. Just do your job.

Sir.

Anyway, he apparently wanted to be buried in Fallujah.

-Demented. And Nick?

-Sir?

-Hurry up with that report.

-Sir.

-Millsy?

-Boss?

-Hurry up with that report.

-Yes, boss.

So, Padre, today I pit my brain against the bomb-maker's brain.

Mano-a-mano.

Er...boss? I fixed Arthur.

We could send him down. Robot-a-mano.

I think it's going to need the human touch.

Yeah, I just have a feeling about this one, boss.

A feeling, Bird? Oh, goody! So, we're relying on women's intuition?

I wouldn't knock "women's intuition", boss.

OK, send him down.

Be quick.

OK, ready, boss.

More to the general direction of the mountain?

If you would.

Oh, it's quite exciting, isn't it?

Yes. Quite.

Boss, I don't want to say anything, but I should be driving the robot.

Don't say anything, then.

Of course, the, er...the robot rarely finds what you're looking for.

Ultimately, it's just...

one man alone,

not knowing what each step will bring, trying to...

No!

Ow! That is really fucking hot.

This dust is really...

-Get down!

-Oh!

Gosh.

Sorry.

Oh!

Sorry. It's just, er...well, you did say you'd drop everything.

Oh, ha-ha! That's very good.

Look, um...I just wanted to see whether you were all right.

So, you waited till I was just out of the shower?

What?

I had no idea that you were just...

you were just out of the shower.

Explosions can affect people in weird ways.

I just wanted to see if you were OK.

Yeah. Sorry.

Yeah, I am... I'm a little bit on edge.

-MILLSY ON RADIO:

-'She's just got out of the shower. Go in now, sir. Over.'

Er...

They'll say anything, that lot.

-Bye now.

-Wait. Look, I'm sorry. OK, I'm sorry.

Look, it's just...

Look, I'm a soldier.

OK? I don't know how to approach someone like you, someone who's...

..someone who's good.

Look, you were there today.

That could have been me. I just...

I...I go through that every day.

And, er...

..I just don't know how much time I have left.

Look.

I know you're under unimaginable stress.

But aren't you a bit better than...this?

-Am I?

-Aren't you?

-Well, am I?

-Well, are you?

BUGLE PLAYS LAST POST

Er...the funeral was cancelled, right?

-I thought so.

-I'd better throw some clothes on.

Great.

-So, um...off you fuck.

-What?

Oh! Oh.

PLANE ROARS

BUGLE PLAYS

Is it back on?

What? Oh.

Very good.

-What's going on?

-Let her through, let her through.

Oh, very funny.

We are gathered here today to remember Arthur the robot.

I now call upon Arthur's best friend, Corporal Lynda Bird.

Who likes a bit of mechanical assistance.

-Ha-ha(!)

-What's going on?

Oh, for heaven's sake, get it filled in.

Well, ashes to ashes.

Rust to rust.

BUGLE PLAYS

-What's going on here?

-Just filling in the grave, sir.

Good. Good. And thanks for the report. Very clear.

-Thank you, sir.

-Looks like there was nothing you could have done.

That's right, sir. Absolutely nothing.

Short of wrestling him to the ground.

But that would be the act of a total lunatic.

-It would, sir.

-A total lunatic, sir.

Oh, and that robot you lost this morning.

REME want to take a look at him.

Don't know where he is, but, er... dig him out, would you?

Sir.

-Mac? Rocket? Get to it.

-TOGETHER:

-Ah, fuck!

Bird, I'm so sorry for your loss. Arthur was...

-Piss off, Nick.

-Boss, we're up!

-Suspected IED in Yellow 21.

-OK, Bluestone 42.

Off we fuck!

Subtitles by Red Bee Media