Love, Death & Robots

- Crew report. Navigator. - Check.

- Bombs. - Check.

- Waist gunners. - Check.

- Radio. - Check.

Ball turret gunner.

Check.

- Amen. - Tail gunner.

Check.

- Top turret gunner. - Check.

It's just us, boys. Stay alert.

Tell you when I got scared.

It was when they gave us the chocolate bars.

And the extra smokes.

And a John Wayne movie in the mess.

'Cause when brass is nice to you, means you're about to get fucked.

No shame in being afraid.

But Zeke...

Hell, Zeke weren't afraid of nothin'.

Tonight, gentlemen, you will be threading a needle.

A strike of critical importance to the war effort

on a well-protected target.

Command has determined a single bomber has the best chance of evading detection,

and you're the finest crew we've got.

So you're flying into France alone.

You'll have a fighter escort across the Channel, but that's it.

And your target is a church just south of the German border.

Anyone got a problem with that?

Not if it's a Protestant church, sir.

Just another target, sir.

Sir, so, uh, who's the accountant?

Let me introduce you to Mr. Fuck You, Don't Ask.

And for the duration of the mission, this man is in charge.

Name's Coombs.

Come on. Just bricks and mortar, Preacher.

Show some respect, will ya? It's a house of God.

No sane person can doubt the hereafter.

We're supposed to be taking orders from this guy?

What a load of malarkey.

I believe in what I can see and touch, and maybe half of what I hear.

There's enough real shit to worry about without inventing fairy tales.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Aw, come on. You too, Tap?

Raised in it.

One born every minute.

Brace yourselves, boys

Left wing got tagged.

Fuck the flak. Fuck the flak. Fuck the flak.

Steady. Eggs?

Close, Cap! Less than ten!

Five.

Ready!

Five, four...

...three...

...two...

Wait! Hold the fucking bombs!

Wait. Not yet! Not yet!

Coombs, she can't take much more of this.

Not yet!

Now... Now!

Rise, my child.