Das Boot

Our bosun's mate.

He's soaked to the gills.

The road's closed.

Who are those pigs?

The road's clear. Coming through!

That's their fireboat drill.

They're all boys off our boat.

Captain.

Merkel's guys. They ship out tomorrow too.

Okay, sailors! Let's go set that cathouse on fire!

Just don't miss your mark!

Stuff some season's greetings in there!

Scared fuckers.

They need sex like the infantry needs alcohol.

OFFlCER: What's going on here?

Good luck!

Captain!

My 2nd officer.

This is Lieutenant Werner, naval war correspondent.

He'll ship out with us.

He'll report anything of interest.

Welcome aboard, lieutenant.

Good evening.

This way, lieutenant.

U-boat crews need relaxation.

Good evening.

Two beers.

Yes, captain.

Where's Thomsen?

Doesn't he want to celebrate his medal?

Any news from your wife?

No personal calls allowed till after 1 0 p.m.

Two beers.

Reporting back from U-96.

Munitions and provisions aboard, ready to put to sea.

Thanks, 1 st.

Something else, captain.

On my way here,

some of the crew harassed me.

They actually--

An incredible incident--

They--

They pissed on you.

Yes.

Me too.

Just a minute!

Attention, please!

Let's give our newly decorated officer,

Captain Thomsen,

three cheers!

That's Thomsen for you.

One of the old guard.

Always drunk now.

My respects, Thomsen!

Quiet in this whorehouse!

A toast to our wonderful,

abstaining,

womanless Führer.

Who rose gloriously

from apprentice painter

to become the world's greatest battle strategist.

What? Isn't it true?

He's the great naval expert,

who took it upon himself,

in his wisdom--

How's it go again?

Who's been showing that English bedwetter,

that cigar-chomping asshole Churchill,

where to go stick

his cigars!

Sorry.

See you tomorrow. I've got a call to make.

It's not like the old gang.

These are so green and eager.

Wet behind the ears.

Braggarts.

Cheeks together, balls in their hands,

and belief in the Führer in their eyes.

They'll calm down soon enough.

You're a pig's ass!

Fight! Win! Or Die!

Come on, Phillip, get up!

Help me here!

I wanted to

really

screw my brains out--

I am not in the condition to fuck.

It's all right.

That's Thomsen's boat.

Equipment checks okay?

The starboard propeller had a bent blade.

Uh-huh.

That's what caused whining on silent runs.

We have a brand-new propeller now, captain.

Our boat.

Crew at attention!

Captain's revue, eyes left.

Crew reporting for duty.

All decks ready to sail.

Thank you, 1 st officer.

At ease!

Well, men...

Everything okay?

Yes, captain!

We have a guest.

Lieutenant Werner.

Naval correspondent.

He wants to look around,

to watch respectable German heroes.

Act accordingly.

Man your stations.

Hail and victory and sink them all!

Pick up those vegetables. This is no grocery store!

Command post.

Torpedo workshop and storage.

Shape up and your mugs will make the newspaper!

Thank you, gentlemen. Follow me.

This is our shit house. Uh-huh.

One hole for fifty men. Oh.

The other's full of provisions.

More space for food than for shit. Some logic.

Chief petty officer's. Uh-huh.

My home, so to speak.

Here's the officers' mess.

Don't stow stuff that way!

[WOMAN SINGING OVER RADIO]

It's nice in here.

Where are you?

Sorry, coming. May I?

Careful!

Here's the radio room. Over here, the control room.

Just what we need.

The control room.

The boat's command center.

This leads to quarters.

Gotta move this stuff.

Morning, lieutenant.

Petty officers sleep here.

Twelve men.

Two men share most bunks, depending on their duties.

If one's on guard, the next one sleeps in the other's stink. Right?

This is your bunk.

Just for you, our guest.

That's for you too.

Your oxygen mask. Very important!

Not much good except in calm seas.

It comes in handy when the diesel reeks.

Or when Frenssen farts.

Come along.

Coming through!

This is the galley.

And this is Johann, the ghost.

Hey, Johann, everything greased up?

Man on bridge?

Take photos of the crew returning,

not putting out to sea.

Why?

They'll have beards by then.

It would shame the Brits to see mere boys give them hell.

Baby faces,

who should still suck Mama's breast.

I feel ancient around these kids.

Like l'm on some Children's Crusade.

Permission to pass?

You're from Mexico?

Yes, south of Mexico City.

Nice?

Yes, sir.

Great climate, due to the high altitude.

You came a long way.

As a German, it was a matter of course.

What did you do there?

I worked on my step-parents' plantation.

The boss' son?