Secret Mission

Synopsis: In this World War II suspense thriller, three British spies and a French resistance fighter sneak into occupied France to gather information about the German forces for a planned invasion.
Genre: Drama, Thriller, War
Director(s): Harold French
Production: Franco London Films
 
IMDB:
5.4
Year:
1942
94 min
17 Views

1

Yes?

- Major Garnett?

- He's inside.

-I've a message for him.

- All right.

- I'm going in, son,

I'll show you the way.

Right, thank you.

This way.

Come in.

Message for you, sir.

Please sign here.

- Thank you.

- Thank you, sir.

Go and find Private Clark,

and send him here at once,

will you?

Very good, sir.

(DOOR CLOSES)

Raoul?

But Mrs. Beaton says

stir slowly.

I have told you a hundred

times that your Mrs. Beeton

Was a savage. A barbarian!

To make this souffle...

Give me an egg,

I will show you.

An egg? Don't you know

there's a war on?

(SCOFFS) I seem to have

heard something about it.

Raoul? Just a minute.

Lunch is almost ready.

Would've been ready hours ago

if Captain Carnot had left it

to Mrs. Beeton.

Now I understand

why the English will never,

never learn to cook.

Well!

And who invented roast beef,

if you please?

What is it?

Mackenzie didn't get back,

so we're off tonight.

Just had this from HQ.

- We are taking Captain Gowan

and Private Clark with us?

- Sure.

I'd hate to go on a trip

like this without Nobby Clark.

Besides, he knows that part of

the country as well as you do.

Man's well-read. I believe

he's got Indian blood

in his veins.

He can smell his way about.

Should be a good party.

Yes, I'm looking

forward to it.

So am I, except

it's going to be a bit tricky.

It will be odd going back.

Seeing the Boche swaggering

about the place.

- I hope I shall manage to

keep my temper.

- I'll watch you.

- You sent for me, sir?

- PETER:
Yes.

- You know Saint-Antoine,

don't you?

- Yes, sir.

- Think you could find your

way there from the coast?

- Yes, sir.

Why?

Well, I haven't told you

before, but that's

where we're going.

We're never going to

Saint-Antoine.

Well, that's where

my old woman lives.

Yes, I know.

- Well, don't you want to

see her again?

- No, thank you very much, sir.

You see, it's one of the joys

of this here war that

I can't see her again.

- I'm sorry,

that's where we're going.

- Oh, it's not fair!

- Cigarette?

- Thank you very much, sir.

Of all the places

in the world,

they had to pick the one place

Where my old woman lives.

No, it's not right, sir.

- Well, don't worry about it,

I'll get somebody else.

- Yes, sir.

- Sir?

- Yes?

Sir...

It ain't safe to

go without me.

I suppose I'll have to go

with you.

It's a great sacrifice, mind.

- See, I'm putting my head

in a noose.

- Well, that's excellent.

- Hello, Red.

- Hello, Raoul. Hello, Peter.

Hello. You been telephoning

your blonde?

No, that's all washed up.

She's taking this austerity

business too seriously.

You know, you ought to have

joined the Air Force, they're

much more successful.

Oh, I get along, sir,

I get along.

I met a little redhead

last night,

and she's got everything.

At least I think she has.

- When will you know?

- She's dining with me tonight.

- No, she's not.

- No? Why?

Because we're going

on a little trip,

and it's a stag party.

(COUGHING)

Um, excuse me, sir?

If it's all the same with you,

I should like to be back for

the 3:
00 Saturday.

- I've got a cert running

at Newmarket.

- What do you know?

Gay Gabby.

Should start at any price.

I know a jockey.

Never trust a jockey.

You're speaking of

my late profession, sir.

You're a bit large for

a jockey, aren't you?

Well, I wasn't exactly

a jockey.

I used to lead the horses

around the paddock, and that.

Oh. I'm very sorry, Nobby.

Forgiven and forgotten, sir.

- Well, how are we?

- Fine.

I had much worse crossings

in the old days.

Yes, seems like a rather

long time ago now, doesn't it?

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Basil Bartlett

Sir Basil Hardington Bartlett, 2nd Baronet (15 September 1905 – 2 January 1985) was an actor, screenwriter and writer, and in the 1950s the head of the BBC's script department. In June 1921, at the age of 16, he became the second Baronet Bartlett of Hardington Mandeville, when he inherited the title after his grandfather, the building contractor Herbert Bartlett, as his father had died the year before. He was educated at Repton School in Repton, Derbyshire, before continuing to Corpus Christi College at Cambridge University, where he graduated with a Bachelor of Arts.Having started as a stage actor in the 1930s, he joined the British Army at the outbreak of World War II, and served as a captain during the retreat to Dunkirk in 1940. He was mentioned in despatches and wounded during the retreat. He published My First War: An Army Officer's Journal for May 1940, Through Belgium to Dunkirk. During his convalescence he worked as screenwriter of the war films The Next of Kin (1942) (which he later also turned into a novel), Secret Mission (1942) and They Met in the Dark (1943) before joining the Intelligence Corps, where he gained the rank of lieutenant colonel in charge of the kinematographic group of 21st Army Group. After the war, he briefly tried to take up his career as actor again, appearing in Captain Horatio Hornblower R.N. (1951), before joining the BBC, where he became head of the script department, but also translated a couple of French screenplays. He also participated as model in three of the six 15-minute programmes in BBC's first ever series in colour, Men, Women and Clothes, a history of fashion which was broadcast between 21 April and 26 May 1957 (available in the BBC on line archive).He was married to Mary Malcolm, one of the first two regular female announcers on BBC Television after World War II, from 1937 to 1960, and they had three daughters. When he died in 1985, the baronet title went to his younger brother, the Olympic fencer David Bartlett. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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"Secret Mission" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 13 Dec. 2019. <https://www.scripts.com/script/secret_mission_17707>.

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