Masters of the Air

Here, let me see that face.

You ought to report to the hospital after interrogation. You got it?

Yes, sir.

You want this?

No. Thank you, Doc.

Thank you.

- Some coffee, Major? - John? Some coffee.

Ms. Tatty.

- Give me that. - Thank you.

You're welcome.

Came through the clouds about 5:00 high. I mean, I couldn't see anything.

Are you fucking kidding me? The EAs are like ghosts.

Hinton said he saw four chutes, but I didn't see any.

There was cloud cover, start to end. it was a soup, Lieutenant.

- Couldn't see. - Islands?

Geez, I never saw any islands.

At that point, I saw muzzle flashes. No bursts.

Yeah, I mean, those 190s,

they screech right by us at what? 500 miles per hour?

Chutes? Did anyone see any chutes?

No, Major. It was chaos up there.

There was zero visibility. Hard to see anything.

Son, I'm gonna show the Major your wounds.

Yes, sir.

Bosser's frostbite is gonna require more attention than we can give him here.

Hang in there, Bosser.

We're gonna send you to Redgrave Hospital.

Get you all fixed up.

Can't wait to get back in the fight, sir.

Good man.

They have got to remember where they are.

It is 25,000 feet and 50 below zero.

Their piss freezes against their skin.

These sorts of casualties are unnecessary losses for the group.

Not to mention, we just lost another CO.

- Huglin? - Yeah.

He burst an ulcer when he landed.

I've just put him on a transport to London to see a specialist.

- Okay. Thank you, Doc. - All right.

I mean, Christ. What kind of idiot am I? It's freezing cold,

and I got to grab the gun with my bare hands.

In that icebox? Could've been worse.

Well, it's not happening again.

- Good. - Gentlemen.

All right. Heal fast, Dickie. I need my copilot back.

- Thanks, Curt. - Take care.

Bucky and I kind of thought we should have some drinks

with a few of the boys. You want to come?

Thank you, Curt. I'm gonna stay in tonight.

- Okay. - All right.

- You tell the others for me? - Of course. Take care.

How you doing, Dickie?

Here's to Adams. Schmalenbach.

Petrich.

And all their brave men.

You good?

Do you feel anything?

You feel anything?

Yeah. I miss those guys.

Because me, I don't feel a thing.

Can you do me a favor?

- What? - Come here.

I want you to hit me.

That's an order. Come on.

All right.

I want you to land one right on my beak.

- Right here. - Major.

Don't give me "Major." I don't want "Major." Ranks off.

- Stop horsing around, man. - Horsing around? I'm not a horse.

- Stop-- - You're from New York, right?

So, hit me.

I felt that, Curt.

Felt that.

All right, Meatball.

I gotta meet that goddamn new CO.

First thing tomorrow.

Today is tomorrow.

You hungover, Major?

No, sir.

That won't come for another couple hours.

You're still drunk.

Coffee sharpened me, sir.

Colonel Huglin didn't think much of your skills as an Air Exec.

- Well, I didn't think too much of-- - Too much of his flying?

Well, I ain't Colonel Huglin.

No, you're not.

- Can I get some coffee? - Yes, sir.

Thanks.

Boys.

Bucky.

Well?

I got demoted.

To?

CO of the 418th squadron.

Sorry, Jack. The boys are back with me again.

Long as I get my fort back.

Yeah, Harding wants to see about that.

What? I'm Air Exec?

- You son of a bitch. - Wasn't my idea.

Huglin recommended you.

Then you're both sons of bitches.

Goddamn Air Exec.

Look at it this way.

LeMay thinks we're the least disciplined bomb group

in the entire wing, maybe you can make a difference.

I don't wanna be the guy wiping your ass, Bucky.

- Major. - Thank you.

You got up early this morning.

Did I?

See Colonel Harding before me?

I can read upside down, Buck.

All I said was the army's right about you being a leader.

That you lead best as a squadron commander.

You don't got to send me any flowers.

I made one last request before being demoted.

I want to write the letters to the families of the boys that we lost.

I think it would be better coming from me, not someone that they never met.

I'll help you.

I'd appreciate that.

You know...

if this whole thing ended

and there were only two pilots left up in the air--

It'd be me and it'd be you, Buck.

Don't count on it.

Every man who flew a B-17 thanked God for our ground crews.

There was no glory in what they did.

No medals were handed out for patching flak holes

or rebuilding carburetors.

Our crew chiefs were responsible for keeping our planes in the air

on any given mission.

Which meant they were responsible for the lives of dozens of men.

Corporal Ken Lemmons was one of our best crew chiefs.

He was 19 years old.

Lemmons!

Hot potato flying in.

That's one hot bastard.

You ought to get one of these.

What do you think?

Salt and pepper like you asked.

- It's perfect. - Anything else?

See here.

This bird's been dripping oil.

- See it? - Oh, yeah.

Tomorrow after the boys take off, we're gonna clean the hardstands.

What are we gonna clean it with?

- Fire! - Fire.

- What? - Fire.

- I could use some help. - Yes, please.

- What happened? - Practice mission.

He went into his turn too early, too slow.

Stalled out.

Who was it?

One of the 349th. New crew.

Barnhill.

That's six forts in less than three weeks.

We're still waiting on replacement forts from Podington.

I am hoping to get one or two of those next week.

Okay.

Bill, you'll get both of those.

Thank you, sir.

Lastly, we're already down 66 combat aircrewmen.

Out of our starting strength of 350.

Until we get the other replacement crews,

we're gonna have to make do with what we've got.

Turner, if a mission order comes in tonight,

some of your crew are gonna have to fly

- with the 349th. - Yes, sir.

- Buck, same goes for you. - Yes, sir.

That's it. Dismissed.

Yes, sir.

There we go. I'm going to bank that, boys.

- You're not gonna do it. - Watch me.

- Moxie on this guy. Come on. - Come on, baby. Come on, baby!

That's how it goes.

You've got to have the worst luck I've ever seen, Quinn.

Well, dang.

Well, in dice, I mean.

Yeah, you better. 'Cause if I ever go down, we all go down.

- Come on. Lighten up. - Okay.

That's him told.

Alice From Dallas.

- Alice, our palace. - Alice is our dame.

- Dame! - She certainly is.

Tommy, Tommy.

Major.

- Lil. - John.

- Major. - Major Dye.

Could I get six whiskeys and a ginger beer?

- Coming up, mate. - I admire you Americans.

You're up there in broad daylight, seemingly oblivious to the downsides.

I don't understand what you're saying, Captain.

Never mind, old boy. One for the higher-ups.

It's a question of philosophies.

We bomb at night because it doesn't matter what we hit, so long as it's German.

But bombing during the day is suicide.

I could foresee in the future, American strategy adjusting

due to the unfortunate losses you'll no doubt continue to suffer.

Maths.

- Maths? - I mean, maybe if you bombed

during the day, you'd hit your targets.