I Am Soldier

What's your name?

Tomlinson, sir.

Number and rank?

25897. Sergeant Tomlinson, sir.

Where have you come from?

I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot

answer that question.

Where have you come from and

who are you working for?

I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot

answer that question.

This is not a game, son.

So who are you f***ing working for?

I'm sorry, sir, but I...

You better start answering

my f***ing questions,

before I start to get irritated,

and believe me you do not want to see

me when I'm not my usual happy self.

What unit are you?

- I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot...

- How many men in your command?

I cannot answer that.

What are you talking

about, you f***ing idiot?

You just told me your

name, number and rank.

Now what unit are you?

And how many men in your command?

I cannot answer that question.

You must f***ing love hanging

there like a piece of dead meat!

You are gonna f***ing die in here.

I promise you that.

You all right, mate?

JJ.

Mickey.

What reg are you?

I'm a chef, mate.

- 2 PARA.

- I'd never have guessed.

Feel ready for it, you?

Guess I'll find out.

'Scuse me, love. Are you

gettin' off at the next stop?

Yeah, I am.

Me and my mate here

were heading there...

for a drink.

Yeah, that's right.

Know any good pubs?

Yeah, if you come out of the

station and turn right,

keep going straight and the

Maypole is on your right.

Will we need to get a cab?

It's only about half a mile.

Thanks.

My pleasure.

Me old man was in the SAS.

It's all I've ever wanted to do.

Is he still in?

Nah, nah, he beat the clock.

What do you mean,

he beat the clock?

Oh, you'll see.

Here we go.

Oh, for f***'s sake!

She's taking the piss.

- 'Brecon Taxis. '

- Hello mate, can I get a cab, please?

'Yeah, we've got one standing by.

Where are you, mate?'

- The Maypole.

- 'That's been shut for ages. '

Yeah, I can see that now, mate.

- They wanna stare a bit more, don't they?

- All right, don't worry about it.

Yes, gents?

Um, two pints of larger, please.

JJ.

- Thanks.

- That's 6.40, please.

- Well, I'll get the next ones.

- Course you will.

- I will.

- There you go.

- I needed that.

- Same.

Thanks.

This will be the last pint

you and I have for a while.

Depends on how far we get.

Can I get a bottle of Pino

and three glasses, please?

- That's her.

- Can I start a tab?

I'm going for a piss.

- Good evening.

- Evenin'.

Mickey.

Hello, Mickey.

Didn't fancy a night

at the Maypole then?

- Nah, it's not really my scene.

- I'd have swerved it too, if I'd known.

You shouldn't trust

everyone that you meet.

I'm usually a solid

judge of character.

That depends on what

you're thinking with.

Right, fancy some shots?

What we havin'?

- Tequila.

- Two tequilas, please.

Wouldn't do that if I were you.

Says who?

Come on, J.

Let's go.

Have a good evening.

What the f*** was that all about?

Who cares.

We've got a heavy day tomorrow.

You can trust me, I know.

F***!

Special Air Service is only as

good as the training it delivers.

Those of you here

for the first time

who think you have an idea of

what you're about to go through...

you don't.

Just ask anyone here who is on

their second and final attempt.

You will decide who passes

this course, not us.

All we do is lay out each phase

of selection in front of you,

and after that it's

really very, very simple.

All you have to do is complete it,

and if you don't...

you're binned.

Follow me.

You will be smashed, both

physically and mentally.

And when you believe you're at

breaking point, there will be more.

You'll start to wonder why

you decided to do this,

and most of you will

choose to leave.

We don't make selection

hard for the fun of it.

It's about changing

your perception.

Training your body and

mind to become elite,

and make no mistake... the S.A.S. is the

most elite fighting force in the world.

You're f***in' binned.

- So what reg you lads in then?

- 2 PARA, you?

Rifles.

So what about you, Mickey?

I'm a chef in the RLC.

F*** off! What reg you really in?

I'm in the Royal Logistics Core...

and I'm a chef.

F***in' hell, mate.

The cake baking course

ain't for another month.

Geezer's only a

f***ing slop jockey.

Tabbing with weight

is what we're experts in.

This is so we have the

strength and ability

to carry our kit and survive over

tough terrain and long distances,

even when behind enemy lines.

You will start off light.

That's good.

This is so we build your base

fitness up to a decent level.

Come on, let's go!

You will need all the

muscular endurance you have,

to complete the

missions we undertake.

Where's the fight?

Come on, Jackson, get him down,

you're in f***ing 2 PARA now,

you'll get us in f***ing sh*t.

Go, go!

Get off your f***ing chest!

At this point will we increase

the weight you carry.

This is so we build your base

fitness up to a decent level.

Only you can decide how much

pain you're willing to take.

Troopers use close quarter fighting

a lot more than one might think.

This could be a stealth operation

where you are required to

kill in complete silence.

You could have run out of ammunition,

or maybe your just evading capture.

Chris, step up.

Take me down, any way you can.

Whatever the situation...

knowing how to disarm and take out

an opponent without a firearm,

is not only a lifesaver,

but it's an expertise required

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