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Grande Illusion La

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Hey, Halphen... Going to Epernay?
- When? - In half an hour.
In your truck?... Give me a ride.
- Sure...Josephine? - Of course!
- You're not the only one. - Big deal!
Say, Maréchal... You have to take up a staff officer.
He's picked the wrong time.
-Josephine again? - Yeah, Josephine.
Where will all that get you?
She'll just have to wait.
Liquor kills! Liquor drives you crazy!
The squadron leader drinks it!
Captain de Boeldieu. Staff officer, division...
Do you know this photo, Mr. Maréchal?
Sure. Ricord took it with me.
And where can I find Mr. Ricord?
- On leave. - Of course.
This gray smudge worries me...
Here, just below the road.
- That's not a road, it's a canal. - No, a railway.
Such unanimity honors our aerial cameras.
It was a foggy day.
I'd like to resolve this enigma.
I'll request a plane.
I'll go get ready, sir.
Flying suit or fur jacket?
No preference. Flying suits smell, fur jackets shed.
Get me the fighter squadron.
Take a car to the sugar refinery.
I just shot down a Caudron fighter.
If they're Officers,
invite them for lunch.
make us one of your famous fruit punches
to celebrate the downing of my twelfth plane.
Three bottles of Moselle... two Rhine...
half a bottle of Martel...
three bubbly...
two seltzer...
Two officers. One is wounded. I took him to the infirmary.
Captain von Rauffenstein, CO, 21 st Squadron.
Captain de Boeldieu, staff officer.
Lt. Maréchal, pilot.
My apologies.
My officers.
I am honored to have French guests.
Now, gentlemen, let us eat.
Orderly, coats!
Freisler, your punch...
May I serve you?
I knew a Boeldieu in Berlin...
a Count de Boeldieu.
My cousin, Edmond de Boeldieu.
He was military attaché.
He's a fighter pilot now.
Aren't you eating?
I can't cut the meat.
- May I? - Please do.
You speak good French.
I was a mechanic in Lyons.
No kidding! Me too, I'm a mecha...
To Captain de Crussol, French Flying Corps,
shotdown in flames...
From the Officers ofthe German 21st Squadron.
I'm sorry about this coincidence.
May the earth lie lightly on our valiant enemy.
I have orders to take custody of the captured officers.
Read these gentlemen the camp regulations.
"Officers will be treated with the consideration due their rank."
"However, you are reminded that you are subject to German law."
"You therefore must obey the rules of German discipline."
"Any German soldier here has the right to give you orders
which must be obeyed without protest."
"You must salute Officers according to German army regulations."
"If you attempt to escape, sentries have orders to fire on officers
found outside camp limits."
"Incorrect dress is not permitted."
"Large crowds are forbidden. You may not insult the German people,
"or write or speak to civilians from outside the camp."
"It is forbidden to speak to the sentries."
Gentlemen, we will now proceed with some minor formalities.
Russian nouns are declined just like in Latin.
- Newcomers. - Let's warn them.
Angel of purity, angel of light!
Hide your valuables...
- What are they singing? - To hide our valuables.
Don't touch! Those belong to me.
I've got nothing, old man.
Had I known, I'd have brought some cash.
This conduct is unbecoming.
Sorry, it's our duty to search you. This is war.
I perfectly agree, but conduct it courteously.
If not, I'll see your commanding officer.
How are you - kulele? Lucky you - calyptus!
Here, Müller, have some chocolate.
You've no right to open my ham!
It's in the regulations. I read them carefully.
It's rotten! You can have it!
He's hard to please.
I'm delighted when my folks send a parcel.
Here we are, in the heart of Germany,
cut off from our families by the front,
and here's a can of peas, direct from Paris.
Is it all right?
I'm amazed at how honest our jailers are with our parcels.
It's true! Take our feldwebel, Arthur...
He eats cabbage every day. It sticks in his craw. He told me so.
He'd much rather lay into your peas.
Don't kid yourselves.
If they did that, our parcels would stop coming.
They're short of food for themselves.
Hurry, our guests will be hungry.
This tastes like an old sock!
What do they feed the French?
Cabbage, but they have their parcels.
- And the Russians? - Cabbage roots, but no parcels.
And the English?
I was on the stage before the war...
in vaudeville.
- Ever see me? - Theater's too deep for me.
I prefer bicycling.
You follow the Tour de France?
You must've heard of Fabert, Garrigoud, Petit Breton...
Can we purchase what we like?
Yes, through the canteen.
Fine, I'll buy myself a comfortable armchair...
playing cards, a few books, English cigarettes.
You won't find those.
There you go, sir. I'll come again tomorrow.
Gentlemen, time to eat.
So, gentlemen, what shall we begin with?
Chicken, foie gras,
or Captain Cook mackerel?
You're well provisioned.
Don't they feed us here?
In theory, they do, but what they give us is inedible.
Fortunately, we have our parcels, especially our friend Rosenthal's.
Oh, please!
A cognac to start with, sir?
I've never eaten so well in my life.
Some fish?
I'm getting used to Rosenthal's kindness.
Man is such an adaptable creature.
You can see he's a professor...
Profess her... Confess her...
Address her... undress her...
Oops, a slip!
You're quite a joker!
Is that supposed to be witty?
He's hard to please!
Let's drink to peace!
Not bad, this cognac.
Comes from Fouquet's in mouthwash bottles.
It's a bar on the Champs-Elysées.
When I went to Paris, I ate at my brother-in-law's. It's cheaper.
- Been to Paris lately? - Last week.
Lucky man! Places crowded?
Maxim's was packed.
I never go to places like that...
I prefer a nice little bar... with good wine.
- Maxim's... don't know it either. - It's no great loss.
We know you eat at your brother-in-law's...
He never lets up!
Is he there, "Mr. Monocle"?
No, he's not.
I've just been to the canteen. It's about his armchair request...
Let him tighten his belt!
I'll tell him.
He's nice, the guy with the parcels. Well off?
And how! You know the Rosenthal bank?
His parents.
Am I tickling you?
- And what's he do? - Runs a big fashion house.
Funny. With his money, I wouldn't...
What do you do in civilian life?
I'm a engineer for the cadaster.
Sure, the cadaster...
just between us... can we trust your pal, the Captain?
He may seem strange, but he's okay.
You can trust him all right.
- It's all right, then. - Why?
You see, after dark... we're digging a tunnel.
What for?
To escape.
What do you dig with?
A coal shovel, old food cans...
I calculate we should come up in a garden
behind those buildings there. It's open country.
That's slow work.
We've been at it for two months. just a few more weeks...
The war'll be over first.
You're deluding yourself.
Think so?
Best to be prepared.
Where's the tunnel?
You'll see tonight, after roll call.
So you're digging a hole...
Like Monte Cristo. What a laugh!
- Thanks for the wash. - You can't do it with your arm.
Mind if I ask you something?
Go ahead.
What's a "cadaster"?
- Maréchal. - Present.
- Boeldieu. - Captain de Boeldieu.
- Cartier. - Here...we go again!
Good night, Arthur!
- Whose turn is it? - Cartier's.
What's that for?
For breathing. These are to extend the line.
And the bags?
For removing earth.
This is the alarm.
If I start to suffocate, I yank on the string...
The can falls...
And the boys pull me out by the feet...
The feet...
What are you waiting for?
Watch me play the mole...
Is the tunnel safe?
It's shored up with wood from the theater.
And the earth?
Stuffed under the floorboards.
But there's not an inch of space left.
Now we fill bags and empty them during exercise.
Hear that?
I'm sure I heard something.
It's nothing.
We'll send someone out to check.
You've got an innocent face. Go take a peek outside.
I'll pretend to go to the latrine.
Say, Arthur, what happened?
The fellow tried to escape.
We caught him in the garden behind those buildings...
We opened fire.
Behind the buildings?
- Is he dead? - I think so.
And you, what are you doing out?
Going to the latrine.
- What was it? - Someone tried to escape.
He got as far as the garden behind the buildings.
A sentry shot him.
He's dead.
The alarm!
- No answer. - Pull him out.
Hurt bad?
Drink some cognac.
From Fouquet's.
Here's mud in your eye. Don't drop the bottle.
Who goes down tomorrow?
You do, sir... if you don't mind.
My pleasure. I understand crawling is fine exercise.
I remind you it is strictly forbidden
to receive non-military clothing.
Good news?
It's from my aunt in Bordeaux. People are swarming into town.
What do you think?
They'd better watch out,
the Germans are claiming a major breakthrough.
There's been no bell-ringing so it can't mean much.
Up for some gardening?
I hate the way German bulletins exaggerate.
And our papers don't?
Remember the "Russian steamroller"?
Isn't it time we got down to serious business?
Sure, but not all at once.
And that famous General "Winter",
so lethal to the nasty Krauts
but so tonic to the Allies...
And do you remember "Turpinite"?
A flask the size of... a radish that could blow up a whole battalion.
They even tried it on a flock of sheep.
Too bad they didn't stop at that.
- What're you guys planting? - Dandelions.
I'm dreaming of dandelion salad.
The war'll be over before your dandelions grow.
This singular exercise will give us workman's hands.
The trunks are here!
- The costumes? - At the theater.
There should be a trunk with women's clothes.
Coming, sir?
My theatrical skills are questionable. Besides, I'm engaged.
- Playing patience? - Exactly. I'm a realist.
Find anything, Arthur?
Well, gentlemen, enjoy yourselves.
Where will we put all this?
I asked for hangers.
Be careful...
These things should be handled with care...
with your eyes closed.
Looks like a little girl's dress.
Dresses are short now.
just below the knee.
So I hear. I'd love to see that!
Then put it on.
Not him, he never shaves.
- You have an angel face, Maisonneuve. - Anything to amuse.
We have to take inventory.
The corset, too!
Take it easy.
It's not only the dresses. They wear their hair short, too.
Short hair!
It's like sleeping with a boy!
When we're not around, women act foolish.
I'm sure my wife hasn't cut her hair.
That's for high-class floozies.
How would you know, with that mug?
- Shoes! - How small they are!
Stockings of sheerest silk!
Hey, fellas, I'm ready!
Let us dream a bit first.
You'll only stifle our imagination.
Look at that!
Black stockings!
Looks like a real girl!
Funny, huh?
Doesn't it look funny?
Yeah, sure looks funny.
Poor boys.
Enjoy yourselves.
Out there, children play soldier...
In here, soldiers play like children.
I wish I knew what's going on back home.
- No news? - Nothing.
I don't care what my missus is up to.
I want out 'cause I'm bored stiff... bored!
So you want to escape for the fun of it.
For me, it's the spirit of contradiction.
They won't let me fight, so I'm dying to.
I hate being here when others are biting the dust.
For me it's simple.
A golf course is for golf. A tennis court for tennis.
A prison camp is for escaping.
And you, Rosenthal, the sportsman...
Him? He was born in Jerusalem.
No, in Vienna. To a Danish mother and a Polish father, naturalized French.
Old Celtic aristocracy!
Yet for all your French roots, none of you owns an acre of your country.
In 35 years, the Rosenthals have acquired
three chateaux with hunting preserves,
farms, orchards, warrens, stud farms,
and 3 galleries of bona fide ancestors.
If that's not worth escaping to fight for!
I'd never considered patriotism from such an unusual angle.
With all those game preserves,
your lackeys must really stuff themselves.
I got into the war in a funny way.
I became a soldier because I'm a vegetarian.
That's right. My brother and I had stomach ailments.
The doctor warned us against eating meat.
I turned vegetarian and got well.
My brother went on eating meat,
got sick and was invalided out.
Your citations show vegetarianism didn't interfere with duty.
Or stop my wife from cheating on me.
You have to admit it's stirring.
I loathe fifes.
Still, it gets to you.
It's not the music that gets to you...
It's the marching feet.
Thanks to your dumb talk I ruined my pants...
What about our show? Do we still put it on?
You bet we do! All the more reason.
In fact we should invite the German Officers.
Although I won't join in your artistic endeavors, Maréchal,
let me congratulate you... That's the spirit!
Have you met Marguerite She's neither tall nor petite
With eyes that glow, skin like snow And lips in a cupid's bow
Well, when this divine creation Heard my ardent declaration
She gave me a rose, tweaked my nose Saying, "I'll give you joy"
I said, "Thanks all the same But that's not why I came"
If you want to give me joy
Marguerite, Marguerite
If you want to give me joy
Make me your loverboy
'Neath her window I waited
And then I serenaded:
"My soul's apyre since your eyes set my heart on fire!"
So this sweet and caring dame To put out my raging flame
Did a bucket spill from her sill Asking, "Is it burning still?"
I said, "Thanks all the same But that's not why I came"
If you want to give me joy
Marguerite, let me be your loverboy
All together now!
And now... direct from Paris!
Get it, Arthur?
Stop the show! Stop the show!
Stop, fellas!
We've retaken Douaumont! It's in the German papers.
A little hole, to escape.
Isn't that awful?
Can't be much left of it!
Get off my back! I can't take it any more! I'm fed up!
I want to see some light!
It stinks of shit in here! Hear me? It stinks of shit!
And I want to hear a voice.
I want to hear a French voice.
What was he yelling about?
The war's too long.
If my calculations are right,
we should be under the garden wall in four days.
That's a lot of dirt!
Now that we may get away
and reach home again, I'm afraid of what's waiting for me.
There's more than one woman on earth!
Not for me.
That's why she cheats on you.
One thing upsets me: leaving Maréchal behind.
It weighs on me as well.
In fact... it disturbs me.
But that's war. No room for sentiment.
Glad to see you, old man.
We are, too. Wait until you hear why.
You old dog!
Got anything to eat? I'm hungry.
Have a seat. Rosenthal's getting some grub ready.
What time is it?
11 o'clock.
Time's dragging today.
Sure, but tonight it's aufwiedersehen!
So, we meet in Amsterdam?
I'm keen to see Holland, for the tulips.
What about the cheese? Don't you like Dutch cheese?
Sure, but they say the tulip fields stretch for miles.
You have the instincts of a shop girl.
Assembly at three o'clock.
All Officers are to change camps.
Get your things ready.
Gentlemen, I wish you a pleasant journey.
I hope you will see your wives again soon.
We ought to alert them.
About the tunnel.
Sir, there's a tunnel in Barrack 7.
Open the window. It stinks in here!
Sir, may I point out there are only two pairs of white gloves left.
We can't get any gloves here.
Try to make them last.
Yes, sir... More coffee, sir?
If you call this muck coffee, I have to accept it.
At least it warms my insides.
The list of new prisoners, sir.
Three new officer POWs reporting, sir!
Delighted to see you again, Boeldieu.
But I'm sorry to see you here.
We feel the same.
Sit down, gentlemen.
No, thank you, sir.
As you wish.
Captain de Boeldieu,
four escape attempts:
Through a heating duct, in a garbage bin,
via the sewers, in a laundry basket.
One must lower oneself, at times.
I understand.
Lieutenant Maréchal, five attempts at escape:
Disguised as a chimney sweep...
Correction, sir: heating engineer.
Disguised as a German soldier,
disguised as a woman.
Amusing, very amusing.
But less so when an NCO tried to pick me up. That I didn't like!
I assure you.
Lieutenant Demolder, three attempts...
Gentlemen, I respect your patriotism and courage.
But the situation is completely different here.
No one escapes from this fortress.
You understand me, don't you?
So as not to be accused of German barbarism,
I have decided to apply French regulations.
Look them over.
They make good bedtime reading.
And now, gentlemen, if you will follow me...
Oswald! My coat.
My soldiers aren't young,
but they enjoy playing soldier.
We have 25 more guns like this one.
I suppose you know the Maxim gun?
Very well, sir.
But I prefer the restaurant.
12th century.
Excuse me, sir...
Was this villa built specially for Captain de Boeldieu and myself?
Are we your only boarders?
Your comrades are back there.
13th century.
A 120-foot drop.
So kind of you to show us around the grounds.
It's such a nice castle, sir.
It's so old...
And so cheerful.
Sorry I can't give you a room to yourself.
I'm touched, but I'd never have accepted.
I hope our walk didn't weary you too much.
Not at all, sir, we're fine.
- 14th century. - Pure Gothic.
If you don't mind, gentlemen...
Your friend Lt. Rosenthal, from the Hallbach camp, is here.
- Not old Rosenthal! - He wasn't any luckier.
The commandant has put you all in the same room.
That way you'll eat better.
That's very nice of him.
A mere formality.
- I caught it with a brunette. - Who can you trust?
A friend of my mother's. Quite respectable. She did charity work.
In good society it's usually the pox.
Right, Boeldieu?
The pox used to be our privilege. But we've lost it.
Like so many others.
Everything is popularized.
Cancer and gout aren't working-class diseases,
but they will be, believe me.
How about intellectuals?
With us it's tuberculosis.
Here's Mr. Pindar.
And the middle class?
Liver and intestinal ailments... They eat too much.
We'd each die of our own class diseases,
if war didn't make all germs equal.
Your dictionaries are in my way.
Excuse me,
but Pindar has always been so badly translated.
A lamentable oversight. I'm so sorry.
Not that I care, but who's this guy Pindar?
Go on, joke! But Pindar means more to me than anything...
More than you, the war, my life!
Pindar is the greatest Greek poet.
The greatest Greek poet?
You don't say...
There! My map'sj ust about finished.
See... this is where we are...
16 miles above this bend in the Main River.
To reach Switzerland above Lake Constance
and avoid the Rhine, we'd have to travel...
- 200 miles. - No kidding!
That means walking 15 nights on 6 lumps of sugar and 2 biscuits a day.
You and your map, you're as crazy as him and his Pindar. To escape...
There! My picture's finished.
"Justice Pursuing Crime."
It came out all right.
Look, to reach this Constance place...
Will it hold?
It can hold 10 of you and 5 like me.
They're searching the rooms!
- Under the mattress, quick! - No, under mine!
That won't do.
It's childish.
May I?
Now there's an idea!
A convenient little gutter.
Here they are!
Gentlemen... inspection.
"Louise wrote to Victor:
I am as weary as a girl after 22 nights of love."
22 nights of love, imagine that!
Not that corner!
Give me your word that you've nothing in here against regulations.
You have my word.
But why my word and not theirs?
The word of a...
and a Maréchal?
It's as good as ours.
No, not that!
It's very rare.
Poor old Pindar!
They really are stupid.
Everything go all right in here?
- Not bad. - For us, too.
And how is your cousin, Edmond de Boeldieu,
the military attaché I met in Berlin?
He's doing well. He's very happy.
He lost an arm and married a rich woman.
A truly fine career.
Recognize her?
Sit down.
Let me tell you something...
Believe me,
my present functions
revolt me as much as they do you.
That's being harsh.
I used to be a combatant.
Now I'm a bureaucrat, a policeman.
But it's the only way
I can still appear to be
serving my fatherland.
I have burns all over... That explains my gloves.
My spine is fractured in two places.
A silver plate.
In my kneecap, too.
I owe these riches to the misfortunes of war.
- May I ask you a question? - Of course.
Why did you make
an exception of me
by inviting me here?
Because your name is Boeldieu, career officer in the French Army.
And I am Rauffenstein, career officer in the German Imperial Army.
But my comrades are Officers, as well.
A Maréchal and a Rosenthal, Officers?
They're fine soldiers.
Charming legacy of the French Revolution.
Neither you nor I can stop the march of time.
I don't know who will win this war,
but whatever the outcome,
it will mean the end of the Rauffensteins and the Boeldieus.
We're no longer needed.
Isn't that a pity?
I admire the way you tend your geranium.
Don't think I've become a botanist,
but it's the only flower in the fortress.
Nothing grows here but ivy and nettles.
I'm glad I'm leaving with you.
With us.
Sure, I like Boeldieu, but...
With him...
I never really feel at ease.
Different backgrounds... There's a wall between us.
He's a terrific guy.
Sure, and he's on the level, but...
Suppose you and I were on the skids.
We'd just be two bums.
If it happened to him,
he'd still be "Monsieur de Boeldieu."
Anyway, you've been terrific, too,
feeding us with your parcels.
That's all vanity.
I'm really proud to come from a rich family.
Inviting you to my table is my way of showing it.
Most people think we're stingy.
Wrong. We're often generous.
Unfortunately, along with that quality,
Jehovah gave us an overdose of pride.
To hell with Jehovah!
All I know is you've been a real pal.
We've received a large crate,
a gift from our Czarina.
Please come and share it with us.
From the Czarina? Must be caviar.
- Coming, Boeldieu? They've got vodka. - Vodka? Lead on.
Now we can pay you back for all your kindness.
The Czarina is always good-hearted.
Quite a lady, your Czarina.
Think of what's in store!
"Principles of Algebra"... "Elementary Ethics"... "Grammar"...
A cook book!
Something to sink your teeth into!
What a farce!
Let's go before something happens.
Goodbye, thanks anyway.
- The Cossacks aren't happy! - Let's get out of here!
You have no right to burn books!
It's crazy sending us books!
The sentries are busy with the Russians.
It's a long drop here, but it's unguarded.
If only we'd been ready! What a chance!
- Especially at night! - We'll try again.
It was kind of them to hold a rehearsal for us.
Now we know if one man can divert them for 5 minutes,
his comrades can escape.
- Too risky! - You're exaggerating.
It would amuse me.
When do you want to go?
Why us? You're in it, too.
Why not? Don't you trust us?
- That wouldn't stop me. - Well then?
A plan like yours can only work with two men.
And I know your preference.
- It's not fair. - What's fair in war?
We can't accept that.
I'm not asking you...
I'm telling you.
The arts aren't forbidden here.
You like music?
So-so... I like a good waltz.
I love the flute.
Here's the program: We buy flutes for everyone.
On the given day: concert in all the rooms at 5 p.m.
That's when night falls.
Five minutes later, they confiscate our flutes.
At 5:15,
another concert with anything at hand:
saucepans, animal noises,
grinding teeth, whatever...
Result: assembly in the courtyard.
Then what?
That's my concern. You'll have five minutes...
to clear the walls and reach the woods.
Look, Boeldieu,
I don't know how to put it, but I feel awful about this.
- Come now! - Yes, awful.
I'd like to say something...
Pour some warm water over my gloves, will you?
Whatever happens, I want you to know that...
I'm not doing this for you personally.
So we needn't get mawkish.
Go on.
But there are times in life...
Let's avoid them, shall we?
Excuse me...
So you'll be wearing those?
Any objections?
No, but white gloves for this sort of thing, what an idea!
To each his own style.
You can't do anything like other people.
We've been together eighteen months,
and you still stand on ceremony.
I'm the same with my mother and my wife.
In that case...
No thanks, English tobacco gives me a sore throat.
No doubt about it: gloves, tobacco...
We've got nothing in common.
Say what you like,
but where there are Germans, there is order.
Sure, the old man is a bit mad
with his flower pot and all...
A good thing I'm here to keep those scoundrels in check.
I was a teacher back home.
Lieutenant, confiscate those damned flutes at once!
I advise you not to start again!
We'll do just that in 15 minutes.
Order executed, sir.
You see? It worked.
Put them on bread and water for three days. And no parcels.
Ready, boys... Two seconds...
I understand my students now. What a lark!
While it lasts.
De Boeldieu!
I beg you! Come down!
Lieutenants Maréchal and Rosenthal have escaped.
So that's why.
Search lights!
Send out patrols with dogs!
Alert all military and civil authorities!
Report back to me every quarter hour!
Your orders have been carried out, sir.
No sign of the fugitives yet.
Forgive me.
I would have done the same.
French or German, duty is duty.
Are you in pain?
I didn't think a bullet in the stomach hurt so much.
I aimed at your legs.
It was 500 feet, with poor visibility...
Besides, I was running.
Please, no excuses.
I was clumsy.
I'm not the one to be pitied.
For me it will all be over...
But you'll have to carry on.
Carry on a futile existence.
For a commoner, dying in a war is a tragedy.
But for you and me,
it's a good way out.
I missed my chance.
You shouldn't be talking so much.
We should've avoided the road.
We couldn't sleep in the reeds.
He's gone.
Didn't you see it was a woman?
- Let's get going. - Wait till dark.
I'm freezing, I have to move.
Want your sugar?
There's not much left.
And we've a long way to go.
- What about you? - I ate mine, I was hungry.
You keep it, so I won't be tempted.
You poor thing... You ate your buttons, too?
Does it show?
So we're not waiting till dark?
No, we'll skirt the village first.
Your foot hurt?
It's nothing... a nerve.
Let's go.
You coming?
You coming or what?
I'm doing the best I can.
You and your foot!
It's not my fault! I slipped.
You slipped! That's all I hear.
If you get us caught, you'll explain you slipped?
We're out of food. Might as well give up now.
- Gladly. I've had enough too. - Had enough of me?
Damn right! If you only knew how you make me sick!
Well, the feeling's mutual.
You're a dead weight, a ball and chain.
I never could stomach Jews!
A bit late to realize that! Clear out, you're dying too.
You said it!
Get lost! I'm sick of your ugly mug!
I'm going! You're on your own now! So long!
So long! Go ahead!
I'm so happy I could sing...
There once was a little steamboat
Which had ne-ne-nevergone to sea
After five or six weeks at sea
The supplies were al-al-almost gone for good...
Why'd you come back?
Come on.
Let's go, fella.
- Had enough? - It's okay.
- Want to rest in that shed there? - Too risky.
- I can't see any smoke. - Even so...
When the ship's on fire, you go overboard.
Right. Overboard we go!
Let's go, old man.
- Someone's there. - The window! Run for it.
I'll draw them off.
Don't move! Keep quiet.
Stay where you are!
We're not thieves.
Prisoners of war?
You speak German?
I sprained my foot. We're exhausted. We're not thieves.
I'm not afraid.
Go on, call the police. I won't walk another step!
You sprained your foot?
She says to come into the house.
No, I don't trust her.
She says she's alone here.
She says her child's asleep, so don't make any noise.
Come and sit down here.
I'll be right back.
Hungry? Yes.
- She asked if you're hungry. - Yeah, I understood.
What about you?
I just want to sleep.
Excuse me, but how far is Wölfisheim?
Eight miles.
I'd sooner stay here than slog up there!
But duty's duty. Thanks and good night.
Hush! My child's asleep!
My husband.
Killed at Verdun.
My brothers...
Killed at Liège... Charleroi... Tannenberg.
Our biggest victories.
The table's too big now.
Relax, it's only me!
You don't mind if a Frenchman feeds you.
You smell like my grandfather's cows. A good smell.
You're a cow from Würtemberg
and I'm a working man from Paris, but we can still be pals!
You're a poor cow, I'm a poor soldier.
We each do our best.
You're a bright little girl.
Mommy and I know everything.
Then how much milk does the cow give each month?
Mommy knows that. I know I have ten fingers.
She asked for water.
I know.
For 18 months, I never understood the guards. But her I understand.
- Nice, but it looks cheap. - I did my best.
I was talking to Santa Claus.
Joseph's got a nice beard!
Here's the Virgin Mary.
Isn't my little donkey cute?
And my ox?
And the infant Jesus...
An ancestor of mine.
"Touché!" as poor Boeldieu would say.
- Think he's dead? - Let's not talk about it.
We're ready. Go get the kid.
Hold on... The gramophone and the candles.
Lights out!
Lotte! Baby Jesus has come.
I knew he would!
Is it for me?
I want little Jesus.
To take to bed?
No, to eat.
He's not for eating.
She wants to eat Baby Jesus!
Strictly forbidden, my sweet!
Then I'll eat Joseph.
All right, but in bed.
She wants Joseph? There you go.
You're a good little girl.
Your gramophone's on the blink.
How do you say: "Lotte has blue eyes"?
Go to sleep, pumpkin.
I don't know how to thank you.
Thank us?
We owe you so much.
Well... good night.
I'll make some coffee.
The coffee's ready.
Say it in French.
Have you told her we're leaving?
Not yet.
It's high time.
You tell her.
- We must be going. - I knew it.
Maréchal couldn't bear to tell you.
I always knew he'd have to go.
Come on in.
There's hot coffee.
You should eat something before you go.
Do we wait until dark?
Let's say good-bye to the cow.
I've been alone too long.
I've waited so long.
If you knew how happy I've been
to hear your footsteps around the house.
Elsa... Listen.
When war over...
if me not dead...
I... come back here... no?
And you... after... come...
with me... to France.
With Lotte... no?
For the journey.
Go quickly. It's better that way.
- Not looking back? - If I do, I might never leave.
- Let's move. - We're not waiting till dark?
We'd lose our way.
The woods will hide us. But in the valley, we'll have to stay low.
You're sure that's Switzerland?
- Positive. - It all looks the same.
You can't see borders. They're man-made.
Nature couldn't care less.
I want to see an end to all this.
Then I'd go back for Elsa.
- You love her? - I think so.
Even if we do make it,
you'll go back to flying and me to gunning, we'll keep fighting.
Like the fellas. We've got to end this damn war...
and make it the last.
Don't delude yourself.
Let's come down to earth. What if we run into a patrol?
We split up, and try our luck.
just in case, let's say goodbye and see you soon.
- So long, you dirty Jew. - So long, you old dog.
Don't shoot! They're in Switzerland.
Good for them!
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