Only Old Men Are Going to Battle Page #3

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- Oh, look, a dog.

- Why don't you say hello, boys?

- Hello.

Let's go.

A good point. A reprimand to

everybody, comrade flyers.

- Got it.

- Follow me.

Lift it!

Come on.

Pardon me, this is men's job.

- Ivan, work.

- Yes!

Lift it!

- Where do you run the thread here?

- What thread?

This is a flying sewing

machine, isn't it?

Push it. You should've seen how

the Messers grilled us today.

Oh, you fly too?

- I'm sorry.

- It's nothing.

Our dear U-2!

A hard-working horse.

Never mind, one day

we'll put a monument to you.

Thank you.

Not at all.

- Are you from Moscow?

- Yes.

Oh, our neighbors!

First squadron, come here!

The night-timers came from

the neighboring regiment.

How was your flight?

I'm Petya, by the way.

Nice to meet you.

Good!

Greetings to you, girls-in-arms!

- What's wrong?

- A hole in the petrol pipe.

Our mechanics will fix your biplane

in a jiffy... I'm Petya, by the way.

Stay cool.

don't you believe me?

Incidentally, these are

the guests of the second squadron.

The best mechanics are here.

As is our

traditional hospitality.

So you can lay off, Vasya.

A Messer!

Calm down, it's our guy.

It's Maestro.

After hard

and exhausting battles,

when you go into a frontal attack,

when a German ace's scowling

face is in front of you,

when you can see...

rivets on the enemy planes,

we, fighters, need

an emotional let-out.

And here we're helped by music. For

everything passes, but music remains.

And as Shakespeare said

in his 18th sonnet...

Hi, boys.

Hi, girls.

What did Shakespeare say?

Well...

And not in the 18th, but...

In the 19th?

In the 19th sonnet Shakespeare said...

Lay off, Vasya.

Let's go.

Hey, orators!

Some discipline!

Why are you leaving your own home

without your superior's permission?

Where's your traditional

hospitality, fighters?

Yes, Comrade First, it's been

confirmed, we found them.

Where we supposed they were.

Yes, he sure flew over there.

- How many times?

- Four times over their heads.

I flew 4 times.

An arrogant general

sitting on a white horse there.

- You even saw his shoulder-straps?

- I was flying pretty low.

Vassily Vassilyevich, First's waiting.

- Don't see me off.

- Thank you.

Punch a hole for a decoration, Maestro.

Valya, give me Pop's "Kazbek"

cigarette.

I got Prokhorovka

on an aerial photograph.

I'll go to the lab and check it.

- How did the hosts receive you?

- All right.

But what the cheek!

Did you report everything,

my dear friend?

- Everything. Good tobacco.

- Yeah, good. And what then?

You won't believe it.

Like in an operetta.

The tanks, and that one on a white

horse waves to me like this...

And you?...

I waved to him once, too.

I had to punish him,

it's not 1941 now.

You were ordered

not to reveal yourself.

Ah, what the heck. Sitting like that

on a white horse, bastard...

I'll remind you of

that white horse yet.

- May I go?

- You mean you'll go like that?

- I don't understand.

- What's happened to people?

You're not going to invite

your comrade-in-arms and commander?

Invite where?

The whole regiment is rushing

to the second squadron now.

May I?

May I?

May I?

I meant to ask you.

If...

Got you.

- Granny, let's dance.

- Not me!

we'll show them how to dance!

But they don't dance.

Why don't we dance?

We had our dance,

I guess, back in Spain.

Oh, no.

May I?

May I, Comrade Commander?

Did you see that?

They can't fly.

They can't shoot yet, either.

But they're real eagles!

Everybody come here.

All this is fine, but it's

just a consumers, cooperative.

Dear guests of the second squadron,

please come to our philharmonic hall.

Curtain!

Our singing second has another profile.

We believe that a song is like

geography.

Here's Zoya from Siberia, a stern and

mighty land. So are its songs.

A storm was raging, thundering...

Vano. Georgia. Mountains.

A Caucasian rhythm.

And I'm from Tauria, Southern Ukraine.

The prairies, as even as a table.

(speaks in Ukrainian)

It's Milky Way in Russian.

Our songs are as

endless as the prairie itself.

You understand it's not singing,

it's just a sketch of singing.

And now you'll hear

the best soloist

of the first Ukrainian,

the former Voronezh,

and the future soloist

of the Bolshoi Theatre...

- Very big.

- Very big theatre.

Senior Lieutenant Skvortsov!

(speaks in Ukrainian)

Commander.

Cancelled for technical reasons.

Maestro.

Don't you let me down.

The season's first.

Don't have an harp - Take a tambourine.

Start'er up!

In the summer, in the morning,

At a garden I dropped once.

There's a girl, a Moldavian darkie,

She was gathering the grapes.

I'm blushing, I'm paling,

I'm about to suggest:

"Let's go to the river

To watch summer dawn at its best. "

Curly maple,

leaves so intricately cut,

By love smitten, I'm standing

all distraught.

Curly maple, so bushy a maple,

Its leaves so beautifully cut!

And the girl, the Moldavian darkie,

Told the boy all at once:

"We're forming in Moldavia

A detachment of partisans.

Our men have left their homes

Early on, before the dawn.

So go to the partisans,

To the woods you go on. "

Curly maple,

leaves so intricately cut,

Here, by the maple, you and I

will have to part.

Curly maple, so bushy a maple,

Its leaves so beautifully cut!

Comrade Guards Major, may I

address Comrade Captain?

You may.

Good evening.

Comrade Captain, while some

were doing la-la-la here,

the 1st squadron have got everything

for the repair of your cruiser.

Got out hands on

all the needed part.

- Thank you.

- You're welcome.

Good boys, our first squadron.

When it comes to downing the Messers,

it's the second squadron job to do,

but as to getting things, it's the 1st

squadron.

Curly maple,

leaves so intricately cut.

Hello, darling,

now we'll never have to part!

Curly maple, so bushy a maple,

Its leaves so beautifully cut!

Comrade Regiment Commander,

the U-2 is ready.

Thank you.

- Start'er up.

- Yes!

That's all.

Well, he's got your left hand.

Our Romeo from Tashkent is sulking.

His Juliet left in a biplane.

Lieutenant,

stop being cheap.

I got your message, I'll keep mum,

or I'll be beaten by you neat

and never shall perform my feat.

Look, I don't know what kind

of a feat we're going to perform,

but the fact that this

girl fights in the war, it's...

Not enough paint.

What about you?

You may use it.

Leave the paint!

- There're no tanks there.

- I believe Titarenko like myself.

I do, too. Yet the low-flying planes

and our neighbors were there as nothing!

- They found no tanks.

- That's why they're not Guards.

All right, Guards pilot,

don't get riled up.

How can one hide them?

When is he going to land?

Second squadron. As soon...

Stop munching!

As Titarenko lands, let him report

at once.

That Uzbek boy of yours has guts.

Wait and you'll see him a soloist.

we'll wait and see.

What are they doing?!

Have they gone crazy, or what?

Turn!

Titarenko, turn!

Is he nuts, that soloist of yours?!

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