Revenge of the Red Baron Page #5

How the hell do I know

who's winning the war?

One of these mornings...

- One of these mornings it'll all be over.

- How can it be over?

There's still some of us alive.

They wouldn't end it

with any of us still alive, now would they?

Gunther! Holzapfel, call Gunther.

My God, Manfred!

Voss, Wolff. Who's next?

We're all next, little brother.

Now I know how pheasants

must feel in the autumn.

They promise you a safe war

when you enlisted?

Enlist? Hell, they drafted me.

I was in the Ministry of Defense.

Could've been a junior secretary by now.

I didn't know they drafted men

into the flying service.

They've just begun.

Is there anything wrong?

I just wish to hell they'd paint

these damn planes a nice drab brown.

The English can see us a mile away.

Hey, look, here come the Yanks.

Oh, hey, I want some beer, boys.

Look at that, William.

How could we lose now?

How do you mean?

Spare parts for the machines, Brown,

100 million of them.

We'll swamp the damn Krauts.

How can we lose?

- Hey. Take it easy, buddy.

- Hey, you're American, huh?

- No, I'm Canadian.

- Well, that's half American, ain't it?

We've only to come to speak

to you, von Richthofen, about the future.

Germany's and yours.

The general intelligence picture is bleak.

Colonel Trackl, your report.

Within six months,

the general Allied offensive,

strengthened by a number of

American divisions, will begin.

It is clear that

the offensive will be terminal.

We will be pushed back to the Rhine

in the first phase.

And in the second phase,

we will be invaded.

So you will understand, von Richthofen,

why I am removing you

from the flying roster.

You mean the squadron is to stand down?

Well, no.

As a matter of fact, the squadron

will be pressed into

ever more hazardous service.

You mean, I am removed

from active duty alone?

You do understand the reasons for this,

don't you?

We are forced to plan for the future.

We must organize now.

So next time, the Jews and

the Communists and the merchants

won't have a chance

to stab us in the back.

You could, if you wish to accept,

become chief test pilot for my company.

We would be producing designs

suitable for modification to military use.

We will be designing racing planes,

don't you see?

Well, Herr Rittmeister,

what do you have to say?

I say, you're all insane.

Damn it, Richthofen,

we're going to lose this war!

But nobody at the top

is willing to admit it.

If there's going to be a future Germany,

somebody has to move.

I don't give a damn

about your future plans,

your next war.

Captain,

we are speaking to you as an equal.

I am not your equal.

I'm a solider.

I have 30 men fighting for their lives.

I will not stand down.

I made you.

I picked you up and made you.

- Now I hope the British blast you!

- Never doubt it, General.

They will.

Roy, what the hell are you doing

in here alone? It's time to fly.

Yeah.

I'm ready.

Buck up, old man, it's almost over.

Before the leaves fall...

It'll never be over.

One day, they'll change

the system of dating.

"B.C." will mean "before combat".

"A.D." will mean "after death".

Come off it. They can't kill us all.

What's the difference? We're already dead.

"Esteemed Herr Rittmeister,

because of war shortages,

we beg to inform that

the silver required to make

your small cups is no longer available.

We can, however, supply an identical cup

made up in base metal plated with tin".

- I should've gone for that boar, brother.

- What?

Nothing.

I'll have to write Steiner.

I don't want his tin cups.

Would you like to tell me

what happened at that meeting yesterday?

The others all left looking as if

they were headed for Switzerland.

Wasn't anything. Just routine.

Let's go.

I'd like to take a look at this

when you get back.

I had to rebuild some of the parts.

I feel like I've been in this plane forever.

I think it'll all be over soon,

Herr Rittmeister.

What happened with Goering,

isn't he flying?

He received a call from von Hppner.

He's been grounded.

That's odd.

Not really.

Switches off.

- Impossible!

- Way to go, Brown!

What a fighter!

To the Richthofen Jasta!

And its new commander.

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