Reach for the Sky Page #6

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have a rest.

All right.

You know, darling,

this is a game I could play...

...and on equal terms, too.

No favours.

- I like you looking after me.

- Somebody has to.

- You have to be fit for work.

- Why worry for 200 a year?

Less 2 for last night

and 5 last weekend.

That leaves 193 -

more than most people get.

I don't suppose

they drink champagne, though.

Your trouble is you've got a conscience.

- Yes, I'm sorry.

- I don't mind.

I wouldn't change you.

Thelma, we ought

to think about getting married.

That's what I like about you,

you're so passionate(!)

Well... I'm sorry...

- But what else does one say?

- You could...

I won't be much better off for years

so let's take a chance.

- The most romantic proposal ever(!)

- Good, then that's settled.

Now let's have another whack

at that golf ball.

Sorry, darling, no crossed swords,

no guard of honour.

- It was all so quick I hardly feel married.

- We'll do it in church one day.

I'm happy just as it is.

- You never thought I'd settle down.

- For a pipe and the fireside?

Yes, bung on the old slippers,

it's me for the quiet life!

(Sanderson) Thelma knew that in golf,

as in everything...

...he would drive himself too hard.

But she also knew why.

He might not be flying,

but he was fighting.

He fought 18, sometimes 36,

holes in a day...

...and he beat them.

So life for Douglas Bader

achieved some sort of compromise.

It might've continued but, in 1939...

(air-raid siren)

(air-raid siren continues)

Dead on time. You must be keen.

I'll take you round now.

- Have any trouble?

- He said he'd be delighted to see you.

- Did you put in a good word?

- Of course.

- We're short of aeroplanes.

- So?

- You were careless with them.

- But I've changed.

So have the aeroplanes!

You remember Bader, sir.

Remember you?

I nearly kicked you both

out of Cranwell once.

Good luck, Douglas.

- Hello, sir.

- Nice to see you again.

Good of you to see me so promptly.

I'm always interested in my old boys.

I gather you want a job.

- What sort of job would you like?

- Flying, of course.

Oh... I'm very sorry,

I'm only dealing with ground jobs.

That's no good to me, sir,

I'm a trained pilot.

- In the circumstances...

- Sir, it's difficult...

...but I've got to get back again

and only you can help me!

I must fly!

I beg your pardon, sir,

but... I've got to fly again.

Tell you what I'll do, I'll give you

a note for the medical people.

Excuse me, please. Thank you.

- Mr Blake.

- Hello, sir.

- What is it this time?

- The same. They'll pass me now.

- Not for flying, sir, never.

- We'll see.

We'll get you through the doctor's

as soon as we can.

- They'll never let you fly.

- How are you keeping?

You seem to be 100% fit...

apart from your legs.

- It's not fair to drag them in, sir.

- Why not?

It's like saying a man's fit

apart from a cold...

...when he hasn't got a cold.

Or a Flying Officer's sane

when he has no brain.

- Yessir.

- But legs can't just be ignored.

(whistles to himself)

Have you read this

from Air Vice-Marshal Halahan?

He seems to be on your side.

Yessir.

Let's leave it to the Central Flying

School to assess your capabilities.

If I pass again?

You can shake the moths

out of your old uniform.

- Thank you, sir.

- All the best to you.

Thank you.

Excuse me.

Mr Blake!

- Sir?

- Where can I buy a Spitfire?

Good fun, Douglas. As for your idea,

the attack formation, I see your point.

- Why don't we all do it?

- Hold your horses.

- It's not in the book.

- Blast the book!

Nobody knows if it's right or wrong.

The chaps in the last war did.

Mark my words,

their tactics will be successful again.

- Maybe you're right.

- I know I am!

Let's go have some breakfast.

- You can soon test your theories.

- Why?

Tubby wants you as a Flight Commander.

- But what about the AOC?

- He's agreed.

What!

- I can still stay at Duxford?!

- Uh-huh.

- (men shout)

- What's got into the boys?

- Paddy, what's happening?

- It's on, sir!

Jerry's invaded France

and the Low Countries.

Good. Now we can really get at 'em.

(knock at door)

- Sir... sir.

- Mm?

There's a flap on, sir.

Squadron's taking off at 4.

- What time is it?

- 3 o'clock, sir.

- Get your legs on!

- What's up?

We're flying to Dunkirk-an evacuation.

Evacuation? Phew!

This could be it.

Good luck, Douglas.

Good luck, chum.

- Send in a cup of tea!

- Right.

"Enemy aircraft, enemy aircraft ahead."

(rapid gunfire)

(rapid gunfire)

- Any luck, Dave?

- No. How about you, Douglas?

Got a One-0-Nine south of Dunkirk,

smashed his tail.

- Cut it off like a knife!

- I saw. You fixed him!

- Everyone back?

- The CO of 19 Squadron's missing.

- Johnny Sanderson?

- I saw a Spitfire go down in smoke.

- What happened?

- I couldn't see how it finished.

Poor old John.

He'll turn up in a day or two,

having hopped a boat from Dunkirk!

Got a good squirt at a One-0-Nine,

bits flew off-a "probable".

I've been hearing of your work

as a Flight Commander...

...so I'm giving you a Squadron - 242.

Yessir. Thank you, sir.

You don't seem pleased. What's up?

Sir, I broke a Spitfire last night,

overshot the landing.

- You won't have heard about it yet.

- You're lucky.

Your new squadron has Hurricanes.

Your pilots are mostly Canadians.

They've had a rough time in France.

They're fed up with authority.

They want good leadership.

- You might be the man.

- I understand, sir. I'll do my best.

Well, good luck.

We'll need every squadron we've got.

The Luftwaffe's gathering

across the Channel.

Hey, you chaps, come on.

- Brace yourselves. New CO's here.

- Arrived, has he?

- Be here at any moment.

- What's he like?

Brace yourselves. He's got no legs.

- Whaddaya mean?!

- He's got a couple of tin ones.

Great, now we carry a passenger

in the driver's seat.

Who's in charge here?

Who's the senior man?

Is anyone in charge?

I guess I am.

What's your name?

Turner.

Turner what?!

Sir.

Start her up.

Come on, come on, jump to it!

Not bad... not bad at all.

Peter, I want to see all pilots

in my office in an hour.

Yessir.

It's not smart to walk around

looking like mechanics!

A good squadron is a smart squadron...

...and I want this to be a good squadron.

You're the scruffiest lot I've ever seen.

And no more sweaters

and flying boots in the mess.

When you're not flying,

you'll wear shoes, shirts and ties. Clear?

Most of us haven't got shoes,

shirts and ties.

- Why?

- We lost them in France.

That's not all.

Half our boys were casualties.

We scrounged food

and slept under the aircraft.

- We were shunted all over.

- We had to search for petrol to take off.

We got bust up,

made our own way back to England.

And then they sent us up here.

- We're no better off.

- We should've stayed in France.

- (murmurs of agreement)

- All right.

I'm sorry. I apologise for my remarks.

Go to Norwich,

order what you want from the tailor's.

I'll guarantee the bill is paid.

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