Foyle's War

How was it, sir?

Well, 26 revisions to the Police War Instructions,

a briefing from the regional commissioner's office,

- "brief" not being the word. - Ready to go then?

I was ready shortly after We got here, you know.

This is Red Leader. Angels 1-5 heading 0-95.

Roger, Red Leader, I'm right behind you.

See if you can keep up this time, Foyle.

Don't want to leave you behind.

That's France straight ahead, Red Leader.

Try not to get lost.

You see, the trouble with war is committees,

and the trouble with committees is people who take half an hour

to say what you or I could in a couple of minutes.

Mm. I had an instructor at the MTC.

We called "Chloroform" because when he'd finished talking,

there'd be nobody left awake.

What did he teach?

Road safety.

Now you tell me.

Any more, mate?

This is good, eh.

It's lucky we're not in a hurry.

They seem to be everywhere, sir.

I don't think the Home Guard have anything better to do.

Can I see your identity cards, please?

This is Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle.

Thank you, Sam. I'll look after it.

What's going on?

We've had reports of a boat landing near St. Leonard's.

That's all in order, sir.

- Nothing yet? - No, sir. Thank you.

Thank you.

What the...

Where the heck is he going?

- You up for this? - You bet I am!

Ugh.

Wait here.

Be careful, sir.

You got it?

The van was privately owned, sir.

It was registered to a man called...

- Fred Pierce? - Yes.

Yeah, I recognized him.

Burglary and assault, 6 years ago.

Yep, I arrested him.

Where was he going to, sir? Why didn't he stop?

Well, he recognized me

and must have thought I was part of the roadblock.

And he panicked.

What about?

Well, I'd say he was carrying a heck of a lot of fuel,

wouldn't you, couldn't you smell it?

End up like the Crystal Palace, Milner.

Really.

You'd have thought he'd have used some sort

of metal tank, sir, not wooden barrels.

He was also, uh, carrying enough petrol coupons

to fuel half of Sussex.

NNV. Private cars and goods vehicles.

Stolen or forged?

Where did he get the petrol from, sir?

That's the question.

In June, the entire south coast

became what we call the pink area.

You see, we'd learnt from the mistakes of France.

In particular, the ease with which the invaders

were able to collect supplies of fuel.

We at the Petroleum Board cut the number of pump sites

by 40% and reduced stocks.

If by any chance the Germans do land in England,

they'll find only the very minimum supplies

of petrol available.

There's now only one fuel depot in the immediate area.

Here, at Bexhill.

The general manager's a man called Michael Bennett.

Has he reported any irregularities?

We went 3% down last month.

But that was down to a leaking underground tank.

We're having new tanks built now.

3%. How much fuel is that?

Too much.

Fuel supply is of paramount importance.

I need hardly tell you

the entire war effort depends on it.

I think we should launch

an immediate investigation into the procedures at Bexhill.

The possibility of that might just frighten them off,

do you think?

What do you suggest?

I was wondering, perhaps planting somebody in there.

- Might tell us something. - Undercover?

As a driver, perhaps.

I could have had him, I know I could.

He was coming straight at you.

But I had the advantage. He was right in my sights.

You two been in a scrap? I thought it was a just recce.

Stray 109. I saved his bacon.

Listen to the bloody line shooter!

I had a perfectly good fix on him,

and then Foyle came screaming out of the sun

and snatched him right out of my teeth.

- Did you down him? - I don't know.

He was limping back in low cloud the last I saw.

- You didn't go after him? - We were nearly out of fuel.

Should have left him to me. I'd have seen to it.

If I'd left him to you, we'd be pulling you out of the drink.

- Like hell! - If we could find you.

Excuse me, chaps.

I don't think he's too pleased.

That would have been his 10th kill.

He'll get his chance.

I've missed you, darling.

I've been thinking of you every minute.

Every time I hear a plane, I jump out of my skin.

You don't think Jerry's going to catch me, do you?

Am I going to see you tomorrow at the Flamingo?

Eight o'clock.

I love you.

Yeah?

Tea, sir?

Thanks.

Is there a problem, sir?

Um...

Yeah, there is, a bit.

Sir, I've just spoken to Freddie Pierce's widow.

She couldn't tell me what he was doing

or where he was going with the lorry,

but she did tell me who he was working for.

- Yeah? - Frank Gannon.

Oh, well, no surprise there.

- Who's Frank Gannon? - He has a club

here in Hastings called the Flamingo, and a couple

of bars and a hotel, even has his own brewery.

Is he a racketeer?

Calls himself a businessman.

Who's it going to be, sir?

I've no idea, Milner.

It is a problem, isn't it?

- What is? - Just trying to think of

who we can put into this Bexhill fuel depot.

We're seriously short of men.

Yes, I know what you mean.

Does it have to be a man?

I've driven a tractor on my uncle's farm.

Even a three-tonner during training.

Only on fields, mind.

Well... thank you, but I don't...

Any racketeer worth his salt

would spot a policeman a mile off.

No one would suspect me.

She does have a point, sir.

I'd be completely invisible!

Like a sort of... secret agent.

Um...

I'll think about it.

Let her through.

Righto! Thanks.

Not now, Sean.

Had a bad day?

I'm not feeling well.

I just want to get home and have a bath.

Will we be seeing you at the weekend?

Are you buying?

I don't know about that now.

The amount you're earning, you should be.

- 20 minutes! - I'll meet you at the gate!

Now, there's a pretty girl.

Keep your eyes off her, Sean. She's spoken for.

I know, Mr. Elliott, I know it should have been with you.

But you have to speak to the Petroleum Board, not me.

It's all controlled out of London now.

Tomorrow. Latest.

Good-bye.

- Yes? - It's Friday, Mr. Bennett.

I came for my wages.

And what are you doing this weekend?

I'm going out with some of the girls,

Mr. Bennett, we're going to the Flamingo.

Dancing, eh? I might go down there myself.

Fancy a bit of a dance?

I'm meeting my young man.

All you young girls!

You're all at it, aren't you?

I don't know what you mean, Mr. Bennett.

Come on then. Come over here.

And sign for your wages.

Violet!

I came for my wages, Mrs. Bennett.

That's right. It's none of your business.

She was just signing for them.

Thank you.

Miss Davies, if you don't mind,

I have a letter for the Tanker Tonnage Committee.

I'm afraid it has to go out tonight.

Can you type it for me, please?

Yes, Mrs. Bennett.

That's all, thank you!

Right.

What's wrong with you?