Command Decision Dad's Army

# Who do you think you are kidding Mr Hitler

# If you think we're on the run?

# We are the boys Who will stop your little game

# We are the boys Who will make you think again

# Cos who do you think you are kidding, Mr Hitler

# If you think old England's done?

# Mr Brown goes off to town on the 8.21

# But he comes home each evening And he's ready with his gun

# So who do you think you are kidding, Mr Hitler

# If you think old England's done? #

'On sea and air the struggle continues.

'Our Army continues to fight with the gallantry of our great tradition.

'Let us not forget the citizens who, after a hard day's work, go on parade as Local Defence Volunteers.

'Here, they have a few surprises for any unwelcome enemy visitors.

'Shortage of weapons is no handicap.

'Everything that can be used to harass the enemy is pressed into service.

'They have an unbreakable will and an iron resolve,

'and if Adolf ever tries to set foot on this green and pleasant land,

'he'll be chased back into the sea.'

Right, at ease, everybody.

Squad...'shun! Stand at ease.

Squad...'shun!

Stand at ease.

Squad...'shun!

I think it would save time, sir, if we were just to settle for that.

Yes. We'll go on to the next bit.

Oh, yes. Squad present and correct, sir.

-Very smart, Corporal.

-Sir!

-Where did you get that smart hat?

-Fell off the back of a lorry, sir.

-Stood up to it well. That needs sharpening.

-It was all right when I carved the joint on Sunday.

How did you get a joint? I only served you with a pork chop!

Mind your own business!

-All right, that'll do.

-He's registered with me, sir.

-Look after your arms.

-I'd rather have a rifle.

-They'll come soon.

-Pike, I told you - no mufflers on parade. Grenadier Guards don't wear them, do they?

-I've never looked.

-They don't!

-I've got a note from my mum.

-Note?! You're in the Army now!

-I think you ought to read it.

-Oh, very well.

"Frank is starting with his chest again.

"If he can't wear his muffler he must come home or he will catch his death."

He can't wear it on parade!

It makes the platoon look ludicrous.

-Perhaps he can wear it on patrol, sir. What time are you on?

-10 till 12.

-It'll be dark then.

-Very well.

-Take it off now and wear it on patrol.

-(Thank you.)

-What's this?

-Stones, sir.

For my catapult.

This is war, Frazer! We should draw the line at juvenile toys.

-Yes, sir.

-Ask the sergeant before bringing weapons on parade.

-I did.

-Oh?

-In the absence of rifles, it seemed a useful medium-range weapon.

-I used to be a dab hand, sir, when I was a boy.

-That's a long time ago!

I just hit my target at 100 yards.

A Belisha beacon, smashed to smithereens!

Well, put it away. Conkers next(?)

-Will we get our weapons soon, sir?

-I hope so, Frazer.

-Thank God!

-Look to your front, Godfrey!

Take that smile off your face. This is a military inspection, not an advertisement.

At ease!

I'll read the notices, then we'll carry on with unarmed combat.

-Unarmed combat, just about our mark!

-Pay attention.

Now, Mrs Samways, the guide mistress, has requested that when we do arms drill in the guide hut,

we omit the order "slope arms".

The points of your halberds went through the roof and when it rains she has to send half her troop home.

We have to be careful we don't get ourselves a bad name with other organisations. Here is an example.

Mrs Samways has also complained that last night her assistant, Miss Beckwith,

was followed home by one of our men,

who, she alleges, shone a torch on her legs and muttered, "Cor, what a pair of gamaroos!"

That's not the sort of thing I want to hear about my unit. Pike, Walker, Jones - you were all on patrol.

-I won't ask who did it. It mustn't happen again.

-Permission to speak.

-Yes, Corporal?

-I'd like to confess, it was me.

I'm surprised at you, Jones.

I don't know what come over me.

Don't let it come over you again.

Very embarrassing for a young girl. Supposing it had been Mrs Samways?

-That would have been all right.

-Why?

-I wouldn't have bothered!

-Silence in the ranks!

-There's one more thing.

-You'll be pleased to hear the Spitfire Fund stands at £3 9/4d.

-Awfully good, sir!

-Now, on the word "move", gather round for a further lecture on unarmed combat.

-All right.

Off you go. In a circle. Pay attention, everybody.

-Are you volunteering to be attacker again, Jones?

-We've got to do something, sir, with no rifles yet.

Yes, Jones.

Last night, we dealt with countermeasures against an assailant with a dagger...

Yes, yes! In view of last night's incident, we'll dispense with this.

-That's probably very wise. Use that one.

-May we?

-Right, sir.

Now... Having taken the blow under the knife on the left forearm,

you will recall that the next move is to grasp the assailant by the wrist...so. Is that it, Sergeant?

Yes, sir. That's where we got before the doctor arrived.

Next, we knock out our opponent, either with the hand against

the throat, a knee in the groin,

or jab two fingers in his eyes.

-Stand behind, Wilson, in case he falls.

-All right.

-It's all right.

I shan't fall over. I won yesterday!

This jabbing in the eyes business - what happens if he's wearing specs, like him?

That's a good question. The chaps in Whitehall who wrote this manual have thought of that.

They recommend that you shove the index and second fingers up the assailant's nostrils.

Unpleasant business, but it IS war.

And what do you do if he's wearing a gas mask?

Ah! Now, that's a very good question. Isn't it, Sergeant?

Yes, indeed it is, sir. It's a very good question.

What do we do if he's wearing a service respirator?

Call things by the proper name.

-Anything in the manual?

-Nothing, sir.

-There you are.

Even the Whitehall johnnies have not considered it.

But they are not frontline fighting troops like we are.

What do we do? I'll tell you what. We improvise. Put on your gas mask.

-Service respirator, sir!

-Quite right, Sergeant. I am subject to human weakness like any of us.

-Do you mind...? ..Mind holding that, please?

-Yes, of course.

-Corporal!

-This is supposed to be in a state of instant readiness!

-They're cat pieces for Mrs Forster's cat.

She helps me count the coupons in the evening, so I see her cat right.

Now...we can't put our fingers in his eyes,

or up his nostrils.

Which is presumably why you asked the question, Frazer.

What are we to do? Any suggestions?

-Breathe on his window!

-Breathe...?!

That doesn't really work, you see.

You blew. You should have "huh"-ed.

-I see. Would you care to have a go, Sergeant?

-It's the celluloid material, sir. It doesn't steam up.

It's getting steamed up in here!

That's the answer, sir. Just hold him till he gets steamed up!

Possibly. Thank you. Ah! I have it! We cut off the air supply.

Place a palm against the air intake, or in the case of the service respirator, squeeze the tube.

Now, you know as well as I do that however tough a fighter is, be he Nazi stormtrooper, SS or just Fritz,

he cannot survive long without an air supply...

-Get his gas mask off!

-Service respirator, sir!

-Get it off!

-Are you feeling better now, Jones?

-Oh! Sorry, sir. I was overcome, sir.

-It wasn't your fault.

-No, sir. I wouldn't normally snuff out, sir.

My mor-OLE's shattered, sir.

I try to keep it from the men, but what can you do with a shattered morOLE?

-Yes, I'm terribly sorry. I feel entirely responsible.

-It's not you.

It's the women. They come in the shop trying to get a bit on the side.

I'd like to oblige them, but I can't, sir.

I mean, what can I say to them?

I'm used to joints, Mr Mainwaring.

Sirloins, topsides, spare ribs, wing ribs.

Legs of lamb, legs of pork, of all sizes and descriptions.

You mention it, I've sliced it, sir.

Now, all I can give them is a measly 1s/10d.

They don't realise the precision involved.

You're slicing it with a shaky hand, put it on the scales, 4d light - all hell let loose.

-It happens to all of us.

-Remember there's a war on.

I'm sitting in the shop with just a couple of rabbits hanging up, and a tin of corned beef in the window.

If that ain't bad enough, after I've finished work and had me cup of tea,

I take me assegai out and sharpen it up a bit and come on down to parade,

and I think, "They're going to give me a rifle tonight", but there never is.

There never is!

-Our first casualty, Wilson.

-Yes.

-I'm surprised at Jones.

-I had my doubts.

-Nonsense. He's only dying for a crack at Jerry, like us all.

-Unless we get...

-Oh!

-..rifles soon, morale will drop to rock bottom.

Right. I'll put a stop to this.

-Tell them I will see they get rifles this week.

-Any idea...?

-Don't argue, just do it.

I don't know what we'd do without you, Mr Mainwaring.

You're our inspiration.

The hour...

and the man.

# If ever a heart was in the right place to beat strong... #

-Anything else?

-Only this - Mr Adams from the music shop.

-He issued that cheque and there was nothing to meet it.

-He's not doing very well, is he?

He over-orders. He has 400 records of We'll Hang Out The Washing On The Siegfried Line.

-He won't get rid of those now.

-No.

-Can we heat them to make nut bowls?

-There are no nuts, sir!

-Poor fellow.

-But he's got the right spirit, Wilson.

-Oh, yes, indeed.

We're slow to rouse in this country. We don't like wars and bloodshed.

But once we knuckle down, we fight best. He should keep his records.

We WILL hang out our washing on the Siegfried Line!

-Cash his cheque.

-All right, sir.

-Any news from HQ?

-No, not a thing.

I think you were hasty, promising rifles before the end of the week.

-Well, I had to tell them something. Boost morale.

-Yes.

-As you're busy, I thought you might like your tea in here, sir.

-Ah, Miss King, very kind of you. Put it down.

-What a nice girl.

-Charming.

-Just look at that, Wilson.

-What's that, sir?

Not a single currant in it.

-Remember the buns full of fruit we had before?

-Yes, marvellous. Look!

-I'm lucky. Look!

-You got the wrong one.

-You left it behind, sir!

-Well, at least give me a currant.

-Of course. There.

-You dropped it!

-So sorry...

-You are a clumsy fellow!

-Please don't panic, sir.

-It must be here.

-I'll have to do without.

-Colonel Square to see you.

-I don't know a Colonel Square. Do you?

-Me neither, sir.

Marsham Hall? Wonder what he wants.

-Show him in, Miss King.

-Yes, sir.

Main-waring?

-Ah! Do sit down, Colonel.

-Thank you.

-It's pronounced Mannering.

-Why the devil don't you spell it Mannering?

-You the LDV fella?

-Yes.

-I'll come straight to the point.

So far, the War Office have no job for me. A man of my experience!

-Four years in the desert, 1915-19. Heard of El-Lawrence?

-Beg pardon?

El-Lawrence, man, El-Lawrence!

What do you see in your mind's eye when I say that word, El-Lawrence?

I'm not very sure. What do you see in your mind's eye, Wilson?

-An ice cream, sir?

-No, that's Eldorado!

-No, no, no! I'm talking about Lawrence of Arabia!

-Oh, I see.

-I served with him. Ah!

..Got it!

Damn good eye for a fly, you know.

Sir, look! The one that got away!

Oh! Aha! Thank you!

I say! Do you always eat 'em?!

We can't afford to waste them!

Very hard to come by in wartime.

How extraordinary!

-Well, now, when do I take over?

-Take over?!

The platoon, man! If I'm joining, I have to take over.

I'm the captain and Wilson's the sergeant. We might need a corporal.

Corporal?! Are you mad?

Either I'm in complete charge or I don't join. Another platoon would welcome me...and my rifles.

-Rifles?!

-Yes, about 20. Don't you want them?

-Of course!

-So do others.

I know it's a blow. You chaps want to be generals overnight.

Know nothing about soldiering.

War is a serious professional business,

calling for men trained in guerrilla warfare, like me.

March your men to my house at 6.30 and I'll make soldiers out of you.

Don't be late. There's work to do.

-Of all the damned impertinence!

-It's going to be awfully difficult.

-Difficult?

-It's a terrible decision for you, sir.

-What decision? Can't have that old fool in command.

-He IS a DSO.

I'm not saying he's not a brave old fool. No doubt he is. Plenty cheek!

-He's commanded guerrillas.

-In 1917. Does he know modern warfare?

-Do we?

-Are you suggesting I should stand down?

-I'm not suggesting anything.

It'd have to be your own decision.

But our unit isn't like Arabs in the desert. Our men are British. They've got to be led, not bullied.

You need the right personality.

I see that point, sir. But which is the most important weapon -

your personality or his rifles?

# Blue skies are round the corner

# Walk round the corner with me... #

Well, are they here yet? What?

The rifles. We're living on promises, Frazer.

Well, I'm not marching through the streets any more with this thing.

Kids shout, "Mister, can we borrow your toasting fork?"

Quite right. One offered to lend me his toy cap pistol.

He offered it to me too. I took it.

We'll be lucky to get rifles in time to salute victory! What's he doing?

Telephoning HQ.

The matter is very urgent. ..Yes, I'll hold on. ..The quartermaster.

-I see.

-Sir.

-Yes, Walker?

-I've been on the blower to a geezer in the Smoke. I can get you the rifles.

-£18 a time.

-Out of the question, Walker.

-Where do they come from?

Ah, well, you don't ask, do you? He's very reliable, this geezer.

Used to knock them off for the IRA.

-He's prepared to throw in ten rounds per magazine, special offer.

-Sorry.

Got a Lewis gun for £100.

£100? That seems rather a lot.

I told him he was being greedy. Come here. I look at it this way.

That bank of yours is full of oncers. Only you two count them.

Your suggestion is outrageous, Walker! Kindly rejoin your platoon.

Well, if you change your mind.

Hey - meals bonds, quid each?

No!

Hello? Mainwaring here. It's about these rifles, sir.

..But couldn't you let me have half a dozen?

There's divisions of ruthless armed men across the Channel, and I've only got pick handles. ..I see.

Oh, very well. Thank you.

-No luck.

-No luck?

-Your paper, sir.

-Thank you, Pike. ..Just look at that.

-Mmm? Oh, she's rather attractive!

-Not that! Here!

"Invasion barges moving down from the north." And my men unarmed.

-Pity you promised.

-It's not that.

If Hitler kicks off, this town will go down in history for stopping him.

We can do it - IF we have guns.

There's only one solution, Wilson.

My personal pride must not stand in the way of the defence of the realm.

-Call the men in. We're marching... to Marsham Hall.

-All right.

# It's a hap-hap-happy day For you and me, for us and we

# All the clouds have rolled away It's a hap-hap-happy day

# Toodle-oodle-oodle-oodle-oodle-ay

# The sun shines bright And the world's all right

# It's a hap-hap-happy day... #

Platoon 1, B Company, Local Defence Volunteers reporting to Col Square.

Tradesmen's entrance round the back.

# ..It's a hap-hap-happy day!

# Four and twenty sunbeams Are dancing round my face

# Four score and twenty more Are dancing every place

# It's a hap-hap-happy day Toodle-oodle-oodle-oodle-oodle-ay

# You can't go wrong If you sing a song... #

Squad...halt!

Left turn.

Well, you may wonder why I've brought you here.

I am placing this unit

under the command of Col Square. I am doing this

because he has the knowledge to turn you into a fine fighting unit. He also has the rifles.

-I think you will find in him an officer of distinction...

-Charge!

Your first lesson, Captain! A man mounted is superior to one on foot.

-He seems a bit doolally.

-You gave us a bit of a start, sir.

Exactly. And we'll give the Hun a start.

Fast, mobile, mounted patrols striking from the hills.

Squad...'shun!

-Left...turn!

-FEET CRUNCH ON GRAVEL

-Quick...march!

Did you hear that, Wilson? Absurd. Cavalry went out with the ark.

Humour him. We need those rifles.

# Let's celebrate Let's get that holiday spirit

# We've got our hair down now

# Let's shout it out So everybody can hear it... #

LAUGHTER DROWNS SONG

# It's a hap-hap-happy day Toodle-oodle-oodle-oodle-oodle-ay

# For you and me... #

These are your chargers.

The horse is a noble, faithful and obedient animal.

He has marched side by side with man along the road to civilisation,

proving himself a staunch friend. Wilson, MAINwaring, get 'em mounted.

Stand still or I'll turn you into glue!

# It's a hap-hap-happy day Toodle-oodle-oodle-oodle-oodle-ay

# You can't go wrong If you sing this song

# It's a hap-hap-happy day...! #

Come along, men! Sit up straight. Be proud of your horses.

-Shall I ring for the ambulance now, sir?

-Ground's soft. We may be lucky.

They're fine-looking animals.

-..Did the colonel breed 'em?

-No, sir. He's looking after them.

They belong to Bailey's Circus.

Come on, now! Sit up straight!

You're like sacks of sherbet!

Here, man, take this sabre.

What the hell are you doing?! Take the sabre in your hand!

I can't! I'm hanging onto me horse!

Duck! Duck!

Duck! Duck!

Help! Hang on, Jonesey! I'll save you!

Sir, we've got more chance against Hitler with you and pikes than with him and four-footed dragons!

That's good of you, Frazer. I've only allowed you to go through all this because we need the rifles.

Here's the rifles, sir. Have a look at them.

Great heavens! This is war, not The Desert Song. We've been hoodwinked.

-Wilson, march the platoon back to the church hall.

-Sir.

# Good night, children every-y-where! #

-"If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs, And blaming it on you..."

-Sir!

-The men are waiting for you to talk to them.

-Don't panic, Wilson.

I think you were rash, promising rifles before the end of the week.

A commander has to take decisions. That's what makes him a leader.

-TELEPHONE RINGS

-This may be good news. ..Mainwaring.

Yes. ..Yes.

..Oh. I see. Thank you very much.

-News of the rifles, sir?

-No, I'm afraid not.

A message from GHQ to say we are no longer the Local Defence Volunteers.

From now on, we're the Home Guard.

-It sounds rather nice, sir.

-It'll frighten the Germans to death(!)

Now they face an unarmed pack of Home Guards instead of an unarmed pack of Local Defence Volunteers!

-Tell the men I'm coming.

-What will you say?

-I don't know.

-..Right, sir.

-KNOCK

-Come in.

-Captain MAIN-waring, sir?

-Mannering, yes.

-Oh! Evening, sir.

I've got 500 armbands for you, sir.

-LDV? You're a bit late, aren't you?

-I got here as soon as I could, sir. Sign here, sir.

And here, sir.

And, er...over the page, sir.

-Once more.

-Oh, for Heaven's sake!

Thank you, sir. Put the rest of the stuff by the door, Bert. 'Night, sir.

-Good night.

-That's right. Nice and tidy there. Good lad.

-Sir, the men are still waiting.

-Thank you, Wilson.

-Have you decided what you're going to say to them?

Yes. I'll thank the men and tell them their trust in their leader was not misplaced.

Oh! That's rather good.

DISGRUNTLED MURMURS >

HOORAY!