Dad's Army (1968–1977): Season 1, Episode 3 - Command Decision - full transcript

On sea and air, the struggle continues
to win back our civilisation.

While our army continues to fight
with all 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're preparing 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 right back into the sea.

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. Go on to the next bit.
– The next bit?

Squad present and correct, sir.

– Very smart, Corporal.
– Sir!

That's a smart hat. Where did you get it?

– It fell off the back of a lorry, sir.
– Stood up to it remarkably well.

That needs sharpening.

– It was sharp when I carved the Sunday joint.
– How did you get a joint on Sunday?

– Mind your own business!
– All right. That'll do.



– Well, he's registered with me, sir.
– We must look after our arms.

– I'd rather look after a rifle.
– They'll be along shortly.

Pike, I told you yesterday, no mufflers on parade. You don't see
the Grenadier Guards wearing mufflers, do you?

– I've never thought to look.
– I've got a note from me mum.

– I'm not interested in notes.
– I think perhaps you ought to read it.

Oh, very well.

"Frank is starting with his chest again.

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

He can't wear it on parade.
It makes the whole platoon look ludicrous.

He could wear it on patrol.
What time do you go on?

– 10 till 12.
– It will be dark by 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! I think we should draw
the line at juvenile toys.

Ask the sergeant's permission
before bringing any weapons on parade.

– I did, sir.
– Did you?

With the absence of rifles, it might be
useful as a medium–range weapon.

– I was a dab hand at it as a boy.
– That's a long time ago.

I just hit my target just now at 100 yards.
Belisha beacon – smashed to smithereens.

Well, keep the thing out of sight.
They'll be using conkers next.

Did I hear you say we'll be
getting our weapons soon?

– I hope so, Frazer.
– Thank God for that.

Look to your front, Godfrey.
Take that smile off your face.

This is a military inspection,
not an advertisement for 0dol.

Squad, stand at ease.

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

Unarmed combat – just about our mark, isn't it?

Now, pay attention.

Mrs Samways, the Guide mistress,

has requested that when we're doing
arms drill in the Guide hut,

the order "slope arms" will not be given.

The points of your halberds
went through the felt roof.

Now when it rains, she has
to send half her troop home.

We must be very careful
when dealing with other organisations

that we don't get ourselves a bad name.

An example of what I mean is this.
Mrs Samways has also complained

that last night her assistant, Miss Beckwith,
was followed home by one of our men,

who, she alleges, shone an unobscured torch
on her legs and was heard to mutter,

"Cor! What a pair of gamaroos!"

I don't want to hear that about my unit.
Pike, Walker, Jones, you were on patrol.

I won't ask who did it,
but don't let it happen again.

Permission to speak, sir.

I'd like to confess it was me.

– I'm surprised at you, Jones.
– I don't know what come over me.

Well, don't let it come over you again.

– Suppose it had been Mrs Samways?
– That would have been all right.

– How do you mean?
– I wouldn't have bothered.

Silence in the ranks.

One more thing.

You'll be pleased to hear that the Spitfire fund
stands at three pounds nine and fourpence.

Awfully good.

On the word "move", you'll gather round
for a further lecture on unarmed combat.

All right. Off you go. Gather round in a circle.
Pay attention, everybody.

Are you volunteering
to be attacker again, Jones?

Well, we've got to do something.
We haven't got any rifles yet.

Yes, Jones.

Last night we dealt with the countermeasures
to be taken against an assailant with a dagger.

Just a moment, Corporal.

In view of last night's incident,
I think we'd better dispense with this.

That's probably very wise, sir. Use that one.

Now...

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

you twist the hand
and grasp the assailant by the wrist.

That's right, isn't it?

That's right. That's as far as we got
before the doctor arrived.

Next we knock out our opponent

with the hand against the throat,
the knee in the groin,

or jab two fingers in his eyes.

Stand behind him, Wilson, in case he falls.

It's all right, Sergeant. I shan't fall over.

I won yesterday, didn't I?

This jabbing in the eyes business.
What happens if he's wearing specs like him?

Good question. The chaps
in Whitehall who wrote this manual

have come up with a very smart alternative.

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

It's not pleasant, but this is war.

What do you do if he's wearing a gas mask?

– That's a good question, isn't it, Sergeant?
– Yes, it's a very good question.

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

Must call things by the proper name.
Anything in the manual?

– Nothing in here at all.
– There you are.

Frazer has a question
even the Whitehall johnnies had not considered,

but they're not frontline fighting troops
like we are.

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

– Service respirator, sir.
– Quite right, Sergeant.

I'm subject to human frailties
and weaknesses just like any of us.

Do you mind holding that, please?

This is supposed to be
in a state of instant readiness.

They're cat pieces
for Mrs Forster's cat, you see.

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.

So what are we to do? Any suggestions?

Breathe on his window.

– That didn't seem to work.
– You blew. You should have huh–ed.

– I see. Would you care to have a go?
– It's the celluloid material. It doesn't steam up.

It's getting steamed up in 'ere all right!

Perhaps that's the answer, sir.
Hold him till he gets steamed up.

Possibly.

I have it. We cut off the air supply.

Place the palm of the hand
against the air intake,

or in the case of the service respirator,
of course, grasp the tube and squeeze it.

You know as well as I do
that however tough a fighter he is –

be he Nazi Stormtrooper, SS,
or just plain Fritz –

he cannot survive long without an air supply.

– Get his gas mask off!
– Service respirator, sir.

Are you feeling better now?

– Sorry, sir. I was overcome, sir.
– That's all right.

– It wasn't your fault.
– No, sir.

I wouldn't normally snuff out like that,
but my "mor–aul" is all shattered, sir.

I tried to hide it, but what can you do
with a shattered "mor–aul", sir?

– I'm terribly sorry. I feel entirely responsible.
– It's not you, sir. It's all the women.

They come in the shop
trying to get a bit on the side, sir.

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

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
in all sizes and descriptions.

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

and now all I can give 'em
is a measly one and tenpence, sir.

You don't realise the precision involved.

You're slicing it, and you've got
a bit of a shaky hand,

you put it on the scale, fourpence light,
and there's all hell let loose, sir.

– It happens to us all.
– We must remember there's a war on.

Not only that, I'm sitting in the shop
with just a couple of rabbits hanging up

and a tin of corned beef in the window,

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

I take me assegai out and sharpen it up a bit,

and I come down to parade and think,
"They're gonna give me a rifle tonight",

but there never is,

there never is.

Our first casualty.

– I didn't think Jones would go like that.
– I had my doubts from the start.

Nonsense. He wants a crack at Jerry
like the rest of us.

Unless we get them their rifles soon,
their morale is going to drop to rock bottom.

Get the men on parade. Tell them that I will see
that they get rifles before the week is out.

Don't argue. Just go and do it.

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

You're our inspiration.

The hour...and the man.

– Anything else?
– Only this, sir. Mr Adams from the music shop.

He's issued that cheque,
and there's nothing to meet it.

– He's not doing very well, is he?
– He over–orders.

He's got 400 records of "We'll Hang
Out the Washing On the Siegfried Line".

Couldn't he heat them up
and turn them into nut bowls?

– There aren't many nuts about, sir.
– Poor fellow.

– But he's got the right spirit, Wilson.
– Indeed, yes.

The British are slow to rouse –
we don't like wars and bloodshed –

but once we knuckle down to it, we fight
better than anybody else in the world.

He should hang on to his records. We WILL
hang out our washing on the Siegfried Line.

– Cash his cheque.
– All right, sir.

– Any news from headquarters?
– No, not a thing.

You were a little hasty when you told the men
they'd get their rifles before the end of the week.

– I've got to boost their morale somehow.
– Yes.

– I thought you might like your tea in here, sir.
– That's very kind of you.

A very thoughtful thing to do.

– What a nice girl she is.
– Charming.

Just look at that, Wilson.

Not a single currant in it.

– Remember those juicy buns before the war?
– Yes, they were marvellous.

I'm the lucky one. Look at that.

– You've got the wrong one.
– You left it behind.

– You might at least give me a currant.
– There you are, sir.

Clumsy fellow!

– Don't panic. It must be under the papers.
– I shall just have to do without the currant.

– Colonel Square to see you, sir.
– Colonel Square? Do you know him?

– I've never heard of him.
– Marsham Hall?

– I wonder what he wants? Show him in.
– Yes, sir.

Main–waring!

– Do sit down, Colonel.
– Thank you.

– Actually, it's pronounced "Mannering".
– Why the devil don't you spell it "Mannering"?

– Are you the LDV fellow?
– Yes.

So far, the war house haven't found me a job.
Should be easy with a man of my experience.

Served four years in the desert, 1915 to '19.
Have you heard of El Aurens?

– I beg your pardon?
– El Aurens, man, El Aurens.

Now, what do you see in your mind's eye
when I say that word, "El Aurens"?

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

An ice cream, sir?

No, no, that's Eldorado.

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

I served with him. Hah!

Got it!

– Damn good eye for a fly, you know.
– There you are, sir.

– That's the one that got away.
– Thank you.

I say! Do you always eat 'em?

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 join your lot,
I've got to take over.

I'm the captain, Wilson's the sergeant.
We might fit you in as a corporal somewhere.

A corporal? Are you mad? Either
I'm in complete charge or I don't join at all!

Another platoon would welcome me
with open arms...

– to say nothing of my rifles.
– Rifles?

– About 20. Don't you want 'em?
– Yes, we do.

So does the Eastgate Platoon down the coast.

Chaps like you want to become generals
overnight. You know nothing about soldiering.

War is a serious, professional business,

and this calls for professionals
trained in guerrilla warfare, like myself.

March your men over to my house at 6.30,

and I'll make soldiers out of the lot of you.
Don't be late. Hah!

There's a lot of work to be done.

– Damned impertinence!
– It's going to make it awfully difficult.

– How do you mean?
– It's a terrible decision for you to have to take.

– We can't have an old fool in command.
– He IS a DSO, sir.

I'm not suggesting he's not a BRAVE old fool.
Got plenty of cheek, too.

– He's commanded guerrillas.
– In 1917.

– What does he know about modern warfare?
– What do any of us know?

– Are you suggesting that I should stand down?
– I'm not suggesting anything.

It would have to be your decision.

Commanding a unit like ours
isn't like commanding Arabs in the desert.

The British have to be led, not bullied.

– You need the right personality.
– I see your point.

But which is the most important weapon –
your personality or his rifles?

Well, are they here yet?

– What?
– The rifles.

What do you think? We're living on promises.

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

A gang of kids kept shouting,
"Can we borrow your toasting fork?"

– One boy offered to lend me his toy cap pistol.
– He offered me the same.

I took it.

At this rate, we won't have rifles to fire
the victory salute! What's he doing about it?

He's telephoning HQ now.

I cannot emphasise too strongly
the urgency of this matter.

They're talking to the quartermaster.

I've been on the blower to a geezer
in the smoke.

I can get you as many rifles as you want.
18 quid a time.

– Out of the question.
– Where do they come from?

Well, you don't ask, do you?
He's a very good mate of mine – very reliable.

He used to knock 'em off for the IRA.

Since these are going to our country,
he'll throw in ten rounds per magazine.

– I'm sorry.
– He's got a Lewis gun for 100 quid.

That seems rather a lot.

I told him he was being greedy,
but he won't shift. I look at it this way.

There's a vault full of oncers
at that bank of yours.

Who's there to count it except you two?

Your suggestion is outrageous!

– Kindly rejoin your platoon.
– Well, if you change your mind...

Hey, Mills bombs. A quid each. Deadly.

No!

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

Well, I...

Couldn't you just give me half a dozen?

Divisions of ruthless, armed men are across
the Channel and I've got pikes and pickhandles.

I see. Very well. Thank you.

No luck.

– Your paper, sir.
– Thank you, Pike.

– Look at that.
– She's rather attractive, isn't she?

Not that! Here!

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

– It's a pity you made that promise.
– That doesn't worry me.

If Hitler kicks off, this town will stop him.

We can do it but we've got to have guns.
There's only one solution, Wilson.

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

Fall the men in. We're marching.

– To Marsham Hall.
– All right, sir.

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

Tradesman's entrance round the back.

Squad, halt!

Left turn.

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

I'm placing this unit
under the command of Colonel Square.

I'm doing this because not only has he the knowledge to turn you
into a fine fighting unit, he also has the rifles.

You'll find in him an officer
of rare distinction and quality.

Charge!

That's your first lesson, Captain. A man
mounted is always superior to one on foot.

– If you ask me, he's 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 and disappearing into the night.

Squad!

'Shun!

Left turn!

Quick march!

Did you hear that, Wilson? It's absurd.
Cavalry went out with the Ark.

We'd better humour him, sir.
We need those rifles.

These are your chargers.

The horse is a noble,
faithful and obedient animal.

He's marched side by side with man
on the road to civilisation

proving himself a staunch, trusted friend.

Wilson, Main–waring, get 'em mounted!

Stand still or I'll turn you into glue.

All right, sir?

Come along, men.

Sit up straight. You should be
as proud as your horses.

Shall I ring for the ambulance now, sir?

The ground's pretty soft. We may be lucky.

They're fine–looking animals.
Does the colonel breed 'em?

No, sir. He's looking after them for the duration.

They belong to Bailey's Circus.

Sit up straight! You're like sacks
of sherbet tied up awkward!

Here, man. Take this sabre.

What the hell are you doing?
You hold the sabre in your hand.

I can't. I've got to hang on to me 'orse.

Now duck! Duck!

Duck!

Duck!

I'm stuck!

Hold on, Jonesy, I'll save you!

We think we stand more chance
against Hitler with you and the pikes

– than with him and his four–footed dragons!
– That's loyal of you.

I've only allowed you to go through this
because we need those rifles.

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

Great heavens! This is a war,
not "The Desert Song"!

We've been hoodwinked! March what's left
of the platoon back to the church hall.

If you can keep your head when all about you
are losing theirs and blaming it on you...

– The men are waiting for you.
– All right.

– Don't panic. We must all keep our heads.
– It was rash to promise those rifles.

The commander in the field has to take
decisions. That's what makes him a leader.

This may be good news.

Mainwaring here. Yes.

Yes. Oh...

– I see. Thank you very much.
– News of the rifles, sir?

I'm afraid not. A message from GHQ to say

that we are no longer to be known
as the Local Defence Volunteers.

– From now on, we're the Home Guard.
– That's rather nice.

Yes, I'm sure it will frighten
the Germans to death

to know that they've got to deal
with an unarmed pack of Home Guards,

instead of unarmed Local Defence Volunteers (!)
I'll be out in a minute.

– What are you going to say?
– I don't know!

Right, sir.

Come in!

– Captain Main–waring, sir?
– "Mannering", yes.

Oh, yes, sir. Evening, sir.
I've got 500 armbands here 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.

– 0nce more, sir.
– 0h, for heaven's sake!

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

– Goodnight, sir.
– Goodnight.

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

Excuse me, sir. The men are still waiting.

Have you decided what you're going to say?

I'm going to thank them and tell them that
their trust in their leader was not misplaced.

Oh, that's rather good.

Hurray!