What's your name?
Tomlinson, sir.
Number and rank?
25897. Sergeant Tomlinson, sir.
Where have you come from?
I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot answer that question.
Where have you come from and who are you working for?
I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot answer that question.
This is not a game, son.
So who are you fucking working for?
I'm sorry, sir, but I...
You better start answering my fucking questions,
before I start to get irritated,
and believe me you do not want to see me when I'm not my usual happy self.
What unit are you?
- I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot... - How many men in your command?
I cannot answer that.
What are you talking about, you fucking idiot?
You just told me your name, number and rank.
Now what unit are you? And how many men in your command?
I cannot answer that question.
You must fucking love hanging there like a piece of dead meat!
You are gonna fucking die in here.
I promise you that.
You all right, mate?
JJ.
Mickey.
What reg are you?
I'm a chef, mate.
- 2 PARA. - I'd never have guessed.
Feel ready for it, you?
Guess I'll find out.
'Scuse me, love. Are you gettin' off at the next stop?
Yeah, I am.
Me and my mate here were heading there...
for a drink.
Yeah, that's right.
Know any good pubs?
Yeah, if you come out of the station and turn right,
keep going straight and the Maypole is on your right.
Will we need to get a cab?
It's only about half a mile.
Thanks.
My pleasure.
Me old man was in the SAS.
It's all I've ever wanted to do.
Is he still in?
Nah, nah, he beat the clock.
What do you mean, he beat the clock?
Oh, you'll see.
Here we go.
Oh, for fuck's sake! She's taking the piss.
- 'Brecon Taxis.' - Hello mate, can I get a cab, please?
'Yeah, we've got one standing by. Where are you, mate?'
- The Maypole. - 'That's been shut for ages.'
Yeah, I can see that now, mate.
- They wanna stare a bit more, don't they? - All right, don't worry about it.
Yes, gents?
Um, two pints of larger, please.
JJ.
- Thanks. - That's £6.40, please.
- Well, I'll get the next ones. - Course you will.
- I will. - There you go.
- I needed that. - Same.
Thanks.
This will be the last pint you and I have for a while.
Depends on how far we get.
Can I get a bottle of Pino and three glasses, please?
- That's her. - Can I start a tab?
I'm going for a piss.
- Good evening. - Evenin'.
Mickey.
Hello, Mickey.
Didn't fancy a night at the Maypole then?
- Nah, it's not really my scene. - I'd have swerved it too, if I'd known.
You shouldn't trust everyone that you meet.
I'm usually a solid judge of character.
That depends on what you're thinking with.
Right, fancy some shots?
What we havin'?
- Tequila. - Two tequilas, please.
Wouldn't do that if I were you.
Says who?
Come on, J.
Let's go.
Have a good evening.
What the fuck was that all about?
Who cares.
We've got a heavy day tomorrow.
You can trust me, I know.
Fuck!
Special Air Service is only as good as the training it delivers.
Those of you here for the first time
who think you have an idea of what you're about to go through...
you don't.
Just ask anyone here who is on their second and final attempt.
You will decide who passes this course, not us.
All we do is lay out each phase of selection in front of you,
and after that it's really very, very simple.
All you have to do is complete it,
and if you don't...
you're binned.
Follow me.
You will be smashed, both physically and mentally.
And when you believe you're at breaking point, there will be more.
You'll start to wonder why you decided to do this,
and most of you will choose to leave.
We don't make selection hard for the fun of it.
It's about changing your perception.
Training your body and mind to become elite,
and make no mistake... the S.A.S. is the most elite fighting force in the world.
You're fuckin' binned.
- So what reg you lads in then? - 2 PARA, you?
Rifles.
So what about you, Mickey?
I'm a chef in the RLC.
Fuck off! What reg you really in?
I'm in the Royal Logistics Core...
and I'm a chef.
Fuckin' hell, mate.
The cake baking course ain't for another month.
Geezer's only a fucking slop jockey.
Tabbing with weight is what we're experts in.
This is so we have the strength and ability
to carry our kit and survive over tough terrain and long distances,
even when behind enemy lines.
You will start off light.
That's good.
This is so we build your base fitness up to a decent level.
Come on, let's go!
You will need all the muscular endurance you have,
to complete the missions we undertake.
Where's the fight? Come on, Jackson, get him down,
you're in fucking 2 PARA now, you'll get us in fucking shit.
Go, go!
Get off your fucking chest!
At this point will we increase the weight you carry.
This is so we build your base fitness up to a decent level.
Only you can decide how much pain you're willing to take.
Troopers use close quarter fighting a lot more than one might think.
This could be a stealth operation
where you are required to kill in complete silence.
You could have run out of ammunition, or maybe your just evading capture.
Chris, step up.
Take me down, any way you can.
Whatever the situation...
knowing how to disarm and take out an opponent without a firearm,
is not only a lifesaver,
but it's an expertise required by the Special Forces.
The Israeli special forces invented a fighting technique called Krav Maga.
It's the best offensive and defensive close quarter fighting method ever developed.
This is what we use.
Stop fucking slacking, get your fucking legs in.
How to disarm an assailant with a knife.
Now you.
If you want to pass this fucking selection, then you need to work fucking hard.
Get on those bars!
Let's go, let's go, let's go.
Come on Mickey, quickly. Get the fuck across it.
That's it.
The Regiment are experts
in practically every weapon used around the world today.
This is so there are no limitations or obstacles that can't be overcome
when performing covert or overt missions in the field.
JJ.
When you're taking him down,
keep your shoulders square
and you take him out by the calf.
- OK? - Yep.
You like that, hey? Enjoyed that, didn't ya?
Let's go.
My mother could climb faster than that. Get up the fucking tree.
Get up, Mickey.
That's it son, show 'em what your made of.
Oooh...
Not bad for a chef!
Through the tunnels.
Come on...
- Get through. Get through there. - Do it, do it...
Come on boys, move! Go, go, go...
It's not gonna be easy, is it, bruv? Come on, Mickey, get through there.
- What's this? - It's for your feet.
Thank you.
Have you got any brufen?
No.
Load up on them.
You're gonna need it.
This is your final test of this phase.
You'll be carrying 55 pounds and your rifle.
You will have 18 hours to cover 40 miles.
And there are RV points you must reach.
Go.
All right lads, gather in.
The next RV is at grid 027-208.
I say again, 027-208.
Show me where that is on the map.
It's there.
OK, good.
You're two minutes behind, fellas, so you better get a fucking grip.
Let's take ten.
We gotta keep going, we can't stop.
- OK. - We gotta push it.
- All right, come on, mate. - Come on, boys.
All right, lads.
Your next RV is grid 027-163.
I say again 027-163.
Oi, fellas. You're now 15 minutes behind.
Come on.
Pick the pace up, come on.
You all right?
Are you all right?
Had enough?
All right. You OK, mate?
Come on.
Get up, Chris, we can do this.
Come on, boys, let's move.
Come on!
All right, JJ?
All right, boys, get in the back, let's go.
Oh, mate.
No! No! No!
Leo! Leo! Leo!
Leo!
- I got him, I got him. - Oi! Oi!
What was that for?
Sorry, mate.
I'm sorry.
JJ?
Come on, what ya doing? We're going to be late.
And?
OK, stop fucking about. Come on, let's go.
I ain't going anywhere.
Fucking piss off, will ya?
I don't think I can do this, mate.
Course you can.
Listen, mate, this next phase ruins the best of men.
I've already failed it once.
Well, you need to start believing in yourself then, don't you?
I don't think I can do it again.
Look, J...
you had the balls to come here, not just once, but twice.
If you walk away now, you'll never forgive yourself.
All you gotta do is have a go.
If you don't get through then at least you'll know.
You can pull the plug anytime.
Just don't pull it now.
All right?
Come on, let's get out of here, before Carter sends out a search party.
This is the escape and evasion phase.
After what you've been through already, this won't be easy for anyone,
and make no mistake... you will be physically hammered.
But it's all up here.
You've either got it or you haven't.
Now, there'll be a map handed out of the given area.
You are to stay away from footpaths, roads and buildings.
If you are caught using any of these you are binned.
There will be a Hunter Force pursuing you.
And like I've said a million times before, it's really very, very simple.
You will run away from them for as long as you can.
When they catch you,
you will be brought in for tactical questioning.
What if they don't catch us?
When they do,
you may only give out your surname, rank, and number.
Anything else and you are binned.
Questions?
I don't know what the fuck happened to you two and I don't care.
But missing a briefing in the field can result in people getting killed...
it is not acceptable.
Consider this a gypsy's warning.
Anything else and you're gone.
J, J, J...
Come on.
J, J, J...
We need to get some rest.
No, fuck that, let's keep going.
Be my guest.
Without sleep you're fucked.
I'm gonna set up a snare.
Yeah.
No! No, no, no!
You gonna tell me what this is all about?
What?
Come on, you know damn well what.
I'm gonna check the snare.
We shouldn't have this poxy fire going.
They're gonna find us anyway.
What's your story, Mickey?
I didn't join up as a chef.
I knew it.
- What reg? - Pathfinder in the Para's.
I fucking knew it.
What happened?
There was an accident with a friend of mine.
I tried to save him.
He died on impact.
I haven't jumped since.
Why'd you come and do this?
SAS is the elite, you know.
Just took me longer to get here, that's all.
Is it done yet, or what?
Ah, lovely.
I told you about this bloody fire.
J...
Get him, get down.
Arms!
- Get off of me! - Shut up!
Get up!
Aghh!
One, two,
three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten...
fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen...
Hello, Mickey.
I can call you that.
25897, Sergeant Tomlinson, ma'am.
You're in deep shit, Mickey.
In fact, you're up to your neck in it.
I've prepared this for you.
I just need your autograph at the bottom,
and this will all be over.
I'm afraid I can't sign that, ma'am.
You're a coward.
Dirty,
diseased...
low-life fucking coward.
Bet your mother would have been proud.
But then she wasn't much better, was she?
She's just some old slag,
who had you on a one-night stand and then threw you into care.
When she realised what a little bastard you really were.
Now sign the fucking document, so we can all get out of here.
You repulse me.
I don't think you're a real man at all, are you?
Let's see what sort of man you really are.
What the fuck are you doing, what the fuck...
Oh...
I was right, you're no man.
I've seen button mushrooms with more shaft then that.
Oh...
You're standing in front of a woman, it looks like that...
what must it be like when you're alone?
Pathetic.
Get dressed.
Sign the document.
Or say nothing and die.
Take me to the other room and hang me up.
I ain't signing shit, ma'am.
Very well.
Fuckin' hell!
Leo!
Leo, Leo!
Leo, Leo, Leo...
Where have you come from and who are you working for?
I'm sorry sir, but I cannot answer that question.
This is not a game, son.
So who you fucking working for?
I'm sorry, sir, but I...
You better start answering my fucking questions,
before I start to get irritated,
and believe me you do not want to see me when I'm not my usual happy self.
What's your name?
Tomlinson, sir.
Number and rank.
25897. Sergeant Tomlinson, sir.
Good.
Now we're getting somewhere, thank God.
What unit are ya?
- I'm sorry sir, but I cannot answer... - How many men in your command?
I cannot answer that.
What are you talking about, you fucking idiot?
You just told me your name, number and rank.
Now what unit are you? And how many men in your command?
I cannot answer that question.
You must fucking love hanging there like a piece of dead meat!
All you gotta do is answer a simple bastard question,
and I'll be kind to ya.
But you can't even do that, can you, son,
because you're a stupid, dotty, ugly, annoying,
disgraceful, lying, game-playing, piece of shite.
You're going to fucking die in here.
I promise you that.
I'm sick and tired of being kind and having it thrown back in my fucking face.
Now what fucking unit are ya?
I cannot answer...
That's it, get this piece of shite out of here
before I slit his fucking throat.
Get him out. Out! Get him out!
This war's over for you, Mickey.
It's over, son.
It's over.
Well done, lad.
Oi, Mick. You're OK, yeah?
Oi, look at me, you can do this.
All right, all you gotta do is jump.
- Time to rock and roll. - Go!
Go!
It's gonna be all right.
Go!
See you on the other side.
Go!
I said go!
If you don't jump, you fail.
You seen him?
No, mate.
I reckon he binned it.
Oi!
Where'd you get to?
Give us a hand, will ya?
You all right?
Yeah?
- They look ruined. - Good.
Dawn.
You did it then.
Yeah, I think so.
Keep up the good work.
Was that a bit of encouragement ma'am? No?
- Call it recognition. - OK.
Well, then I...
I guess a drink's out of the question.
You're not there yet, Mickey.
Fuckin' hell, mate.
After going through all that.
Your face either fits...
Mickey!
or it doesn't.
Oi. Good luck, mate.
Take a seat.
Thank you, sir.
Soldier's fail when they come here.
Either their mind, body or attitude let's them down,
and if they're wired wrong,
then there is still no place for them in this regiment.
We are active in the most hostile places in the world.
We are on covert and overt missions
in places members of the public don't have a clue about.
Those who pass selection have the tools to join the regiment,
and fight alongside the elite.
We are single minded in a professionalism and ability to succeed,
whatever the odds.
And we live and die by a motto... "Who dares wins."
But it doesn't end there.
You might not like the regiment and we may not like you.
However, there's only one way to find out.
Well? Do you wanna give it a go?
I'd be honoured, sir.
You should be extremely proud of yourself for passing this, Mickey.
I wish you well with your career,
and long may you serve with us.
Well done!
Sir!
Names of all the S.A.S. that have been killed in action...
are inscribed on this clock.
My dad retired from the regiment without his name being added.
He beat the clock.
And now you see...
Well done, lad.
- Thank you. - Thanks, man.
All right, let's get the drinks in, boys.
Get these down ya.
- That's yours, that's yours. - There we go.
- Oh, JJ.
You're going to need to man up a bit, aren't ya?
To us.
Thank you.
It's all right, you can get the next round then.
I don't mean that.
I don't think I was going to do it.
Oh, you were.
I just couldn't be bothered to wait.
Still, I... I appreciate it.
Well, you did good.
I mean seriously good.
You're one of the best, I've seen come through this course.
Even for a guy who doesn't like to jump?
Yeah, well, you know, you'll get used to it...
again.
If I'm being 100 percent honest I'd have you on my team anytime.
That means a lot.
- Good, cos you are. - You what?
I'm heading back up to Hereford to head up the special projects team.
It's counter-terrorism based out of the UK.
I've hand-picked my team. You're on it.
I... I don't know what to say.
Well, don't get too excited just yet.
- You can't put a price on experience. - Right, yeah.
Of course.
My orders were to have some probationers,
which basically means, you have 12 months to fit inside the regiment,
if you don't, it's goodbye.
Clear?
Yeah.
Cheers.
I wouldn't look for her, mate. She's on the job.
- Oh, no, no, I wasn't, I was just... - Course you weren't.
What's going on here, eh? You gettin' on it or what?
- Course I am. - Yeah?
♪ Lions roar
♪ The sound of guns
♪ The sound of guns... ♪
Hi.
I'm ready for that drink now.
How've you been?
Yeah, life's been pretty interesting for me lately.
You're looking good.
You're not looking so bad yourself.
Oh shit, wait.
- Come on. - Seriously, shut the fuck up.
Hi!
Sorry...
You are gonna have to wait.
- Carter? - 'Mickey, we've got a job on.'
- 'Pick-up at 0400 hours.' - Roger that.
For the past 12 months I've been working with MI5
to monitor the activities of a small group
of white-skinned Bosnian Muslim extremists.
This is a team that Al-Qaida have recruited
from among the Bosnian Muslim population.
Intelligence shows they are planning multiple high profile attacks.
We've infiltrated this group by means of covert operation.
An undercover agent has been working with us
and is meeting the terrorists as we speak.
Mahmud Petrovic is commander of this group.
In the past few hours we've learned
that this group has assembled a warehouse location here in town
to distribute some highly volatile explosives and radioactive material.
The commander is currently in a meeting at COBRA
and has authorised me to hand over control of this mission to the S.A.S.
- How many X-rays? - Approximately eleven.
We need to put one sniper in the perimeter, at point A.
Tommy in position.
You will then silently move into position, at point C.
You have two parts to your mission.
One... if possible, arrest,
if not possible, then kill all terrorists.
Two... secure the weapons, and all explosives.
It's time to prove yourself, boys.
Tommy. X-Ray seen and moving towards entry point.
'Roger that, we'll take care of it.'
Room clear.
Clear.
X-ray restrained.
Policija!
- Assault compromised, go, go, go! - 'Mickey. X-ray down.'
Positions.
Go, go, go...
Move, move, move!
X-ray down.
Fuckin' hell that was close.
Agent not located.
Two x-rays, back of lorry. JJ.
'Agent located.'
- Move in! - Move in!
How many X-rays left down there?
Five, not including the one you just hit.
I want you to sweep the area for WMD's as we advance forward.
- Understand? - Roger.
You compromised?
- Not before you fuckers burst in. - Good.
Jack, move.
JJ, move. Move in!
Go!
- In! - We're clear.
'X-rays outside!'
John, go!
Move in!
Man down, man down.
X-ray down.
Move in!
'There's X-ray's outside to meet, Carter.'
Target spotted 12 o'clock.
'X-ray down.'
So this point, I wish I'd become a chef.
What do you reckon so far?
It's early days, isn't it?
Yeah, mate, well, it gets worse, I can tell ya.
Lance Corporal Jackson, 2 PARA.
J, J, J...
J! JJ! JJ!
J! J!
Fuck, fuck!
Um... all right, look at me mate, look at me.
Look at me!
JJ!
JJ, talk to me, talk to me.
- Talk to me, J. - Mickey!
- Carter, please, please. - Come on, Mickey.
Switch on son, let's go.
'Carter, Petrovic has a radioactive bomb.
'Do not shoot anywhere near it.
'Otherwise it will kill us all.'
OK, switch to 9 mil.
Mickey with me, the rest of you clear the area.
Room clear.
'Petrovic down and explosive secure.'
♪ Ooo-oo-ooh...
♪ Ooo-oo-oo-ooh...
♪ Ooo-oo-ooh...
♪ Ooo-oo-oo-ooh...
♪ Big moustache
♪ Ain't got cash
♪ Big moustache
♪ Don't got cash
- ♪ You got a big moustache - ♪ Big moustache
- ♪ But you ain't got cash - ♪ Ain't got cash
- ♪ You want a big moustache - ♪ Big moustache
- ♪ But you don't got... - ♪ Don't got cash
♪ Sale on today to take it away
♪ You got the right any which way that you want it
♪ Sale on today don't take it away
♪ You got the right any which way that you want it
♪ Ooo-oo-ooh...
♪ Ooo-oo-oo-ooh...
♪ Ooo-oo-ooh...
♪ Ooo-oo-oo-ooh...
- ♪ You got a big moustache - ♪ Big moustache
- ♪ But you ain't got cash - ♪ Ain't got cash
- ♪ You want a big moustache - ♪ Big moustache
- ♪ But you don't got cash - ♪ Don't got cash
♪ Any which way that they want it
♪ That they want it
♪ They live their life
♪ Take it off in their stride
♪ They live their lives
♪ Any which way
♪ Any which way that they want it
♪ Ooo-ooh...
♪ Any which way that they want it
♪ That they want it
♪ Oooh... ♪