The Damned (Les Maudits)

The Damned

April 18, 1945 In liberated Royan,

the evacuated inhabitants return home.

My harmonica.

Oh! I was happy to find it again.

It reminded me of so many things.

Things from before.

My youth.

Going camping.

Helen. Peacetime.

My life was finally going to revert to its normal course.

Its normal course? Idiot!

How could I guess that at the same moment,

how could I know my destiny was decided somewhere in Europe...

In Oslo!

But what did the people of Oslo have to do with me?

There you were, motionless,

You played the harmonica, and at that moment...

Go on! Play' old boy! Play! But why Oslo?

April 19 1945,

several days before the fall of Berlin.

Your papers, please.

Very good.

General von Hauser,

One of the most important men in Wehrmacht.

Forster, a collaborator of Himmler, and Willy Morus, a Berlin hood.

Germany crumbled,

and these important figures of the Third Reich

appeared aboard a German submarine.

Captain, General Von Hauser!

Commandant von der Rancke.

Allow me to show you to your cabin.

Thank you.

General von Houser?

Group Chief S.S. Forster.

You must remember me.

Forster?

This is my right arm, Willy Morus.

Now I remember!

If you would be so kind...

Whose baggage is this?

Madame Garosi's.

Very good.

Their papers are good,

but their identities are false.

They preferred to change their names.

Let's go.

Engines at full steam, slowly!

- 5 degrees port side! - Very good!

If you'd follow me, Madame.

Hilda Garosi, 30 years old, born in Sudetenland,

Italian by marriage, militant Nazi,

and General Von Hauser's mistress.

Your cabin, Madame.

I don't speak Italian.

Madame and me, together.

Ah, Erich!

I can't travel under these conditions.

Hilda in one cabin, me in another. It's ridiculous.

There must have been a misunderstanding.

Speak with the Captain.

Oh, it's impossible! I cannot take advantage of my rank

to involve myself in personal matters.

Follow me, please.

Yes.

Garosi didn't speak German. His wife didn't speak Italian.

French was adopted as a language of diplomacy.

Couturier.

We met at the Embassy in Paris in November 1942.

Karen Bach introduced us.

We dined at Maxim's, the night of Toulon.

A fabulous dinner!

You were, it seems to me' next to Consul General Kiring,

a great friend of mine.

On my right was Captain Schulz of the Propagandastaffe!

Yes... perhaps.

Yes, in fact.

I'll see you later.

A Very important man, Garosi.

His father supported Mussolini in 1920.

And he has, in all the factories in Northern Italy,

considerable interests. Considerable!

I interviewed him

for my paper, ''The Real France''.

Have you heard of it? I published it in November 1940.

Yes. 1940...

That took some courage back then'

to risk yourself in such an adventure.

It started off well, my newspaper. A pity.

Oh well! whoever lives will know.

We're Scandinavian. I was raised in France,

but my father doesn't speak French.

Scandinavians, French, Italians, Germans...

Like Noah's Ark!

All that's missing is the flood.

In several days, we will arrive

in South America.

You must create, with the help of our agents and partisans,

networks of influence, reception centers,

offices of information, houses of refuge,

where very soon can meet again,

all our leaders, in order to prepare for or confirm our victory.

All our leaders, political and military.

All those who, like you' have made to their ideals

the sacrifice of their personal lives.

One shouldn't go so far.

Mr. Couturier, your specialty is propaganda.

Over there you have interests in several newspapers

and are known in some interesting circles.

Each of us has his specialty.

My husband is always in contact with his compatriots abroad.

Mr. Ericksen, as a scholar,

whose research might bring us perhaps the final victory.

Victory doesn't necessarily belong to those who win the war.

Victory is never final.

It isn't achieved except through persistent action during peacetime.

God hears us, and our Fuhrer watches over us.

I would like to speak with you. I'm not disturbing you?

No.

We're never alone.

I wish we hadn't made this trip.

It gives me a bad feeling. How about you?

- What do you mean? - I've thought about it a lot.

Such a long Voyage in a submarine...

I sleep at night. I'm not worried.

Go to bed.

Good night.

His wife's neurosis tormented Garosi.

He knew all about her relationship with von Hauser.

He knew why he'd been refused a cabin for two.

But he was weak and besotted.

Prepare to descend!

everybody on your feet!

Prepare for the descent!

They passed by the Pas-de-Calais,

then by the English Channel,

the most dangerous zone of all.

Three English fighters were in sight.

Down we go!

Prepare to descend!

108 degrees port side!

Below zero!

Past 50 meters!

- Past 200 meters! - Past 200 meters!

Turn completely to starboard!

Completely to starboard!

...220...

...230...

...240... Continue.

...250... A little bit more.

...260...

Try to stabilize.

We're almost there.

Stop the engines!

Stop the engines!

Engines are stopped!

...270...

...280...

290 meters! 300!

305!

310!

330 meters!

Hilda!

- What? - There's a water leak.

Hilda!

Hilda! What have you done?

No temperature.

She's been in a coma since yesterday.

Captain, there must be a remedy.

It's beyond my powers.

It's incredible! Ordinarily, there's always a doctor on board.

It's a criminal lack of foresight.

We thought of everything, except the essential.

Here they repair engines, not people.

We'll get a doctor at Royan.

Very well. Head for Royan.

You see? It's all arranged.

Hilda, my love.

It's all my fault.

You understand me.

Still nothing on the radio?

No' nothing.

It isn't normal.

Maybe there's been a bombardment or a change in code.

No...It's impossible!

What's that mean?

Quick' the radio!

Radio! Radio!

We're calling on the radio.

We must make other arrangements.

- But what for? - To land.

There's no longer any question.

Have you changed your mind?

It's your troops that have changed their position.

You claim to want to ensure the safety of everyone.

A pretext.

I counted on using the stopover to remove Mrs. Garosi.

Are you crazy?

General, sometimes you have to rid yourself of ballast.

Mrs. Garosi is dead weight.