Zulu

Lieutenant John Chard:
The army doesn't like more than one disaster in a day.

Bromhead:
Looks bad in the newspapers and upsets civilians at their breakfast.

Colour Sergeant Bourne:
A prayer's as good as bayonet on a day like this.

Lieutenant John Chard:
I came here to build a bridge.

Colour Sergeant Bourne:
Because we're here, lad.

Reverend Otto Witt:
One thousand British soldiers have been massacred. While I stood here talking peace, a war has started.

Private Henry Hook:
Rourke's Drift... It'd take an Irishman to give his name to a rotten stinking middle o' nowhere hole like this.

Lieutenant John Chard:
What's our strength?

Lieutenant Gonville Bromhead:
Seven officers including surgeon, commissaries and so on; Adendorff now I suppose; wounded and sick 36, fit for duty 97 and about 40 native levies. Not much of an army for you.

Reverend Otto Witt:
There are 4,000 Zulus coming against you. You must abandon this mission.

Lieutenant Gonville Bromhead:
Damn the levies man... Cowardly blacks!

Adendorff:
What the hell do you mean "cowardly blacks?" They died on your side, didn't they? And who the hell do you think is coming to wipe out your little command? The Grenadier Guards?

Lieutenant Gonville Bromhead:
Sixty! We got at least 60, wouldn't you say?

Adendorff:
That leaves only 3,940.

Colour Sergeant Bourne:
It's a miracle.

Lieutenant John Chard:
If it's a miracle, Colour Sergeant, it's a short chamber Boxer Henry point 45 caliber miracle.

Colour Sergeant Bourne:
And a bayonet, sir, with some guts behind.

Lieutenant John Chard:
Mr. Bourne, there should be 12 more men working on this redoubt.

Color Sgt. Bourne:
They're very tired, sir.

Lieutenant John Chard:
I don't give a damn! And I want this wall nine feet high, firing steps on the inside. Form details to clear away the Zulu bodies, rebuild the south rampart, keep 'em moving! Do you understand?

Color Sgt. Bourne:
Yes sir... very good, sir.

Surgeon Maj. Reynolds:
You know this boy?

Surgeon Maj. Reynolds:
Well, he's a dead paper hanger now.

Lieutenant Gonville Bromhead:
Now there's a bitter pill. Our own damned rifles!

Surgeon Maj. Reynolds:
Orderly! Keep the flies away. Damn you, Chard! Damn all you butchers!

Reverend Otto Witt:
The way of the Lord has been shown to us!

Bromhead:
You mean your only plan is to stand behind a few feet of mealie bags and wait for the attack?

Lieutenant John Chard:
Do you think I could stand this butcher's yard more than once?

Lieutenant John Chard:
Mr. Witt! When I have the impertinence to climb into your pulpit to deliver a sermon, then you can tell me my duty.

Mr. Witt:
Oh, Lord in heaven...

Margareta Witt:
What is it, father?

Mr. Witt:
A thousand British soldiers have been massacred. While I stood here talking peace, a war has started.

Cpl. William Allen:
Heave! Put a bit more weight on that rope, you men!

Pvt. John Williams:
He's even got a voice like a corporal!

Pvt. Fred Hitch:
Yeah, sort of like a female hippopotamus in labor.

Sgt. Robert Maxfield:
You're no good to anyone, except the Queen and Sergeant Maxfield!

Pvt. Henry Hook:
Well thank you very much, the both of you!

Lt. Bromhead:
The entire column? It's damned impossible! Eight hundred men?

Adendorff:
Twelve hundred men. There were four hundred native levies, also.

Bromhead:
Damn the levies, man, more cowardly blacks!

Adendorff:
What the hell do you mean, "cowardly blacks"? They died on your side, didn't they? And who the hell do you think is coming to wipe out your little command? The Grenadier Guards? [Adendorff begins to walk away]

Lt. Chard:
Adendorff, are you staying?

Adendorff:
Is there anywhere else to go?

Lt. Chard:
Talk to our levies, will you? Tell them whose side they're on.

Reynolds:
You've got a fine handsome boil, my friend. There's one glistening boil for every soldier in Africa. You may not win any medals on this campaign, but you'll certainly get more boils. For every gunshot wound I probe, I expect to lance three boils.

Hook:
Uh, a spot of medicinal brandy would set me up, sir.

Reynolds:
Brandy's for heroes, Mr. Hook. The rest of you will make do with boils in your skin, flies in your meat, and dysentery in your bellies. Now - this will hurt you a lot more than it will me, I'm happy to say.

Bourne:
They'll know my voice when they hear it, sir.

Witt:
Let them hear it now, in praise of the Lord. Call upon Him - call upon Him, man, for your salvation!

Bourne:
Well, as far as I can remember, sir, it goes something like this: "He maketh wars to cease in all the world. He breaketh the bow and snappeth the spear in sunder." Do you know it, sir?

Witt:
"I shall be exalted among the heathen, I shall be exalted in the earth. The Lord of Hosts is with us."

Bourne:
That's it, sir. [to troops in work detail] All right, nobody told you to stop working! You lead back-sided-- get sweatin'!

Maxfield:
Pick up the rifle, Hook. And get to it! I'll make a soldier of you yet.

Hook:
And what for? Did I ever see a Zulu walk down the City Road? No! So what am I doing here?

Maxfield:
You're here because you were a liar, a coward, and a thief. Now you can be a soldier- like what they pay you for.

[Colour Sergeant Bourne and several other soldiers have brought a drunken Mr. Witt and his daughter to their wagon to get them away before the Zulus attack.]

Lt. Chard:
Keep driving with the sun at your back. Should make it safely.

Mr. Witt:
Sergeant!

Margareta Witt:
Father!

Mr. Witt:
Leave me alone!

Lt. Chard:
Try to understand him, Miss Witt.

Mr. Witt:
Death awaits you! You have made a covenant with death and with Hell you are in agreement! You're all going to die! Don't you realize? Can't you see? You're all going to die! [Chard whips one of the horses. They start, pulling the Witts and their carriage away.] DIE! Death awaits you all! Die! Die!

Private Cole:
He's right. Why is it us? Why us?

Colour Sgt. Bourne:
Because we're here, lad. Nobody else. Just us.

Lt. Chard:
Colour Sergeant.

Colour Sgt. Bourne:
Right. Now, get back to your posts! On the double!

[At the ruins of the garrison hospital]

Lt. Chard:
Who was left in here?

Lt. Bromhead:
I don't know.

Lt. Chard:
They had names, they had faces, they were our men. What do you mean you don't know?

Lt. Bromhead:
Chard!

Lt. Chard:
All right. Well, you've fought your first action.

Lt. Bromhead:
Does everyone feel like this afterward?

Lt. Chard:
How do you feel?

Lt. Bromhead:
I feel... sick.

Lt. Chard:
Well, you have to be alive to feel sick.

Lt. Bromhead:
You asked me, I told you. There's... something else. I feel ashamed. Was that how it was for you? The first time?

Lt. Chard:
The first time? You think I could stand this butcher's yard more than once?

Lt. Bromhead:
I didn't know.

Lt. Chard:
I told you. I came up here to build a bridge.

Lt. Chard:
Thank you, for what you said.

Lt. Bromhead:
Hm? Oh, you mean about our needing you? Don't bother, old boy, it's true.

[Adendorff sees the Zulus re-forming on a hill.]

Adendorff:
Damn you... God damn you!

Lt. Chard:
Adendorff, what are they doing? Answer me!

Adendorff:
Haven't you had enough? Both of you?! Can't you see your damned egos don't matter anymore? We're dead.

Lt. Bromhead:
[shouting at Zulus] Well, what are you waiting for? Come on! Come on!

[The Zulus begin another musical war-chant.]

Bromhead:
Those bastards! They're taunting us!

Adendorff:
[Realizing what the Zulus are really doing, he begins to laugh] No, you couldn't be more wrong! They're saluting you. They're saluting fellow braves!

Cpl Allen to Pvt Hitch when he drops his bayonet "

"You slovenly soldier"

Sgt Bourne to Hitch while standing in line :

"Button up that tunic man..where do you think you are ?"

Sgt Bourne to a drunken Mr Witt in the stockade :

Mr. Witt ..now be quiet ..there's a good gentleman..

we don't want to upset the lads "

Lieutenant Gonville Bromhead:
Still, a chap ought to look smart in front of the men, don't you think?

Lieutenant Gonville Bromhead:
[At an extreme peak in the battle, Lieutenant Chard starts to buckle under the pressure and becomes unresponsive] Stay in the fight, man! We need you, damn it! We need you!

Lieutenant Gonville Bromhead:
At one hundred yards, volley fire present! Aim! FIRE!

Lieutenant Gonville Bromhead:
Volley by ranks! First rank, FIRE! Second rank, FIRE! Third rank, FIRE!

Colour Sergeant Bourne:
Right- nobody told you to stop workin'.

Private Henry Hook:
What do you think? It's Mr. Flamin' Bromhead shooting flamin' defenseless animals for the flamin' officers' flamin' dinner.