Guns at Batasi

She'll be comin' round the mountain when she comes

- She'll be comin'... - Can't you sing in tune?

Round the mountain when she comes

Here, Ben, you know I was just thinkin'.

Back home they wouldn't let me drive a scooter without taking a test.

Marvellous, isn't it?

Marvellous.

Here, Ben, look.

Get out of it, you bunch of stupid...

Blimey. He was exceeding the speed limit.

Hey, watch the road!

You say there's reckless abuse of power!

And to free ourselves. To free ourselves from...

Sorry, gents, no passengers allowed.

Hey, Ben, what do you reckon they're up to?

I don't know.

They got rid of our government.

Perhaps they wanna get rid of their own.

- Come on, lads. Let's be havin' ya. - Good trip, Sergeant?

Dusty. Get 'em cracking with the unloading, Corp.

- Yes, Sergeant. Hurry up! - Corporal. Corporal.

When you've done that, here's the mail for the officers' mess.

Right. Hurry up.

- You got any mail for me? - Who'd write to you, Dig?

Blimey, I'd forgotten what women smelled like. Where's it from?

Sydney

One, two, one... Ben?

- Ben! - Nothing this time, Muscles. Sorry, mate.

Come on! Louder yourselves up! One, two! One, two!

So, our head man is the prime minister.

- Your head man is the... - President.

Now, our prime minister works in Parliament.

- Your head man works in... - House of Assembly.

Good. Splendid. Now, one of our members of Parliament is coming to this camp.

- I'm sure she'll want to talk to you. - She, sir?

Oh, yes, a woman. A woman member.

Oh, women in Parliament have their uses, you know.

What uses, sir? To carry water?

Yes, well, uh, we won't go into that one now.

Class dismissed.

Fire!

- Hey, Ben, is that for me? - Yeah. What is it then?

Good, that's my degree course.

Oh, blimey, haven't you had enough education?

Come on, Abou. What about that dirty pint?

I got a mouth on me like a gorilla's armpit. Ben? Schoolie?

- No, thanks. - All right. Just a quick one.

- Been down to the railhead? - Eighty miles of dust track.

Enough to boil your brains.

And there's something queer going on down in Batasi.

When we came through the main square just now...

it was choked up with Africans running all ways and hollering.

- Yeah? - Fill 'er up, Abou.

Ta. Some of them tried to stop us and all.

Probably celebrating something. Maybe one of those durbars.

No, these characters were dead serious.

They were really giving it big licks. Banners and drums and all.

Look out, here comes the R.S.M. We'll have to get changed.

If he comes in and catches us like this, he'll do his tank.

Remain there!

Come here!

When you pass a commissioned officer...

you don't wave your end about like a pregnant penguin.

You execute a salute in the following manner.

Raise the right hand by the longest route...

till the second finger rests one inch above the right eye.

Turn your head and eyes in the direction of the officer.

When past the officer, return eyes to the front

and hand to the right side. Is that clear?

- Yes, sir. - Right.

Let's see you do it then, lad. Come along. Come along!

Salute me by numbers... One!

Two!

One! Two!

Put that in the file, will you?

- A message from Command, sir. - Oh, thank you.

- You'd better wait. - Sir.

Come in.

Priority signal from Command, sir.

Oh, read it out, Tony, will you?

Yes, sir. "Serious political riots reported in the capital.

"For the duration of these disturbances...

"British personnel will retire to their respective messes...

"and take no part in regimental activities.

"British officers commanding African formations...

"will hand over command forthwith to senior African officer...

and await further instructions from this H.Q."

It's all right. We made it. He's still at it.

One! Two!

- What'll you have, Dodger? - A pint, please, Digger.

Right. And the usual for Ben.

Well, this will be my last queen's birthday dinner.

So, you're really off? They won't let you extend?

No, mate. Too bloody old.

Ah, we'll come and see you off at the airport.

We'll sink a few pints that day.

I reckon old Ben's got himself a smashing job out there.

No, they've got no time for hairy old soldiers in civvy street.

Now, mate, you'll be all right. Once they see you standing up there...

straight as a ramrod, holding your gut in, slammin' your feet down, they'll say...

Give this man a kick in the crotch out of here.

Why don't you become a doorman, Ben?

I know a bloke, he's knockin' off 16 pounds a week.

Right. Stand around a doorway all day,

saluting every stray bastard that comes and goes?

Not likely I'm chucker with that bloody lot.

Never mind, Ben. The great British public will see that you get your reward.

Slap your foot down. Slap it down hard.

R.S.M.'s getting carried away out there.

He's three and a half minutes late.

Must have fractured his elbow by now.

He wouldn't let a little thing like that hold him up.

You won't get away with that. He'll spot it in two minutes.

You want a bet? Pints all around.

- You're on. - Right.

There's nothing for you, old man of muscle.

Now leave off.

Why don't you call me Muscles like everybody else?

Muscles?

- Yeah? - You notice anything different?

Why? What's going on?

- Evening, gentlemen. - Evening, sir.

What's it gonna be, sir?

- I'll have a whisky for me. - Sir.

How's the marriage prospects, Corporal Abou?

Oh, very fine. Thank you, sir. Very fine.

Dodger, weren't you supposed to have the lawn mower repaired?

Yes, sir.

I tried it this afternoon. I regret to say it wouldn't cut up butter.

We'll have to get some more table mats. Down at Command HQ...

they've got some new ones stamped with the regimental crest.

These old ones are shabby. They're a disgrace.

Silver could do with a polish too, Corporal Abou.

- Sir. - Anybody got a light?

Yes, sir.

Now tell me which bloody fool among you removed Her Majesty's portrait?

I'm afraid that was me, sir. I bet Ben pints all around...

you wouldn't spot it under two minutes, sir.

Put it back!

Yes, sir.

I'll have proper respect shown in this mess.

You may think you know me, gentlemen. You may think you can see me coming.

But let me tell you this.

There's no alteration celebration, no argumentation...

and no qualification in this mess that escapes my little eye.

Read, learn, and inwardly bloody digest, I've seen Calcutta!

I've eaten camel dung, my knees are brown...

my navel is central, my conscious is clear.

And my will is with my solicitors, short and curly.

I believe you're on the chair, Dodger.

Guard, stand at ease!

Come in.

- You sent for me, sir? - Yes, Captain Abraham.

Take a look at that.

"Serious political riots in capital.

British personnel will take no part in regimental activities."

Few political hotheads, sir. "Will hand over command...

to senior African officer."

You will assume command of this battalion...

as of now, 1900 hours.

This is quite a shock, sir.

- I'll, uh, call my officers together. - Right.

I would, uh, welcome your advice, sir.

Of course. Anything I can do.

- Thank you, sir. - All right, Abraham.

Come on, Charlie.

Move!

Come on! Move! Move!

- Ah, get stuffed! - Don't seem to like us very much.

Of course they do. It's just their way of expressing themselves.

Proud as a peacock, he was. Saluted like a guardsman.

Thought I was back at the depot for a minute.

Except for his colour, of course.

That's what you need in the army. Isn't that so, Ben? Pride.

Remember the church parades in Singapore before the war?

Everybody marching through the town on Sunday morning...

beyond the band and drums, bags of swank.

Siamese, Catholics, anti-Baptist, everything bloody thing.

There was a man name of Smith, 279.

Refused to go to church on the grounds he was an atheist.

I had to whip him up in front of the colonel, of course.

Old Colonel Killinback, it was. He was a wicked old bastard.

When Smith said he was an atheist...

old Killinback looks at his documents.

You stated you were ch...

"You stated you were Church of England when you enlisted," he says.

Smith says, "I know, sir...

but I've changed my mind in the meantime."

"In this regiment," says old Killinback...

"only the officers change their mind...

and even they have to get permission in writing."

Twenty-eight days glasshouse they gave him...

The best station...

which was something to shout about in those days.

Wonderful station, Singapore.

- What was your favourite station, Muscles? - Sir?

The best station I ever knew was mortared before the war.

The navy used to go on fleet manoeuvres and leave their wives behind.

All soft and pink... and willing.

We made sure they never got lonesome.