Good Work (Beau travail) (Beau travail)

Under the burning African sun

Cochin-China, Madagascar

A mighty phalanx

Hoisted up our banners

Its motto, "Honor and Valor"

Makes for brave soldiers

Its flag, that of France

Is a sign of glory

Hello, Djibouti?

Marseilles, late February.

I have time to kill now.

I screwed up from a certain point of view. Viewpoints count.

Angles of attack.

My story is simple -

the story of a man who left France for too long...

a soldier who left the army as a sergeant.

Chief Master Sergeant Galoup.

That's me.

Unfit for life. Unfit for civil life.

Did you fish a lot in Sicily?

With my father, when I was a kid.

I fished with my Uncle Livio.

He moved to Turin. He taught me.

Careful.

You used bread as bait?

It's better than cheese.

That depends.

One day, a plane from France dropped off some new guys.

I noticed one of them who stuck out. He was thin.

Distant.

He had no reason to be with us in the Legion.

That's what I thought.

I felt something vague and menacing take hold of me.

Gilles Sentain was his name...

the name he gave to the Legion when he signed up.

Maybe freedom begins with remorse.

Maybe freedom begins with remorse.

I heard that somewhere.

My muscles are rusty.

I'm rusty, eaten away by acid.

Under the burning African sun

Cochin-China, Madagascar

A mighty phalanx

Hoisted up our banners

Its motto, "Honor and Valor"...

What counts above all

Is discipline in the Legion

Loving one's superior, obeying him

That's the essence of our tradition

Training, guard duty, washing, ironing, time off.

The routine.

How many stripes are there?

One, two, three, four...

- Are there 13 of them? - Yes.

Good. We always sit on mats with 13 stripes.

We're attached to the custom.

It's a tradition.

How much are you selling it for?

10,000.

Good price. Not long ago, they cost between 14,000 and 16,000.

Mine is 10,000.

Prices went up during the celebration.

It's so cheap. What did you pay for it?

I made it myself.

Bruno.

Bruno Forestier.

I feel so alone when I think of my superior.

I respected him a lot. I liked him.

My commandant.

A rumor dogged him after the Algerian war.

He never confided in me.

He said he was a man without ideals, a soldier without ambition.

I admired him without knowing why.

He knew I was a perfect legionnaire...

and he didn't give a damn.

Bruno.

Bruno Forestier.

And there was Ali.

Ali bought him his qat.

Night after night, Forestier chewed on it, alone...

with Ali or someone else, or at a friend's house.

I never touched those leaves. I liked to stay on edge.

Forestier, Sentain.

And me, Galoup.

Only one of us managed to stay in the family,

in the 13th Section, in the Legion.

There was something so strange that night...

a sort of harbinger of things to come...

of the circumstances that sent me far from the Red Sea and Djibouti.

Sentain walked ahead of the others.

Ramadan had just begun.

The arcades were all lit up.

My bastards are good kids.

They're your only family.

You're a father looking out for your sons.

Could be.

Guess how much a colored girl costs here.

You're a pain, Ali.

What are you thinking?

If it weren't for fornication and blood, we wouldn't be here.

That's all.

In triumph, they carried one of their own.

One of their own.

We're taught elegance in and under our uniforms.

Perfect creases are part of this elegance.

Good, Cosse.

Here I am, Commandant. Like a watchdog.

Looking after your flock.

- Tank top? - Yes.

What's this?

Shirt.

That's right.

- Boxers? - Underwear.

- Shirt... - Right.

Good.

Socks.

I can speak French.

Why did you join the Legion?

Commandant, you know what it's like in Russia.

No money, no work.

I was in the army there for two years.

I fought for Russia.

But it's impossible to fight just for an ideal.

An ideal that keeps changing.

You know what I mean?

What ideal?

How much?

1,000?

I'm rambling... ruminating.

Begging for a word...

a gesture.

My beautiful...

Rahel.

Sentain seduced everyone.

He attracted stares.

People were drawn to his calmness, his openness.

Deep down, I felt a sort of rancor, a rage brimming.

I was jealous.

He doesn't like you.

Beware.

Where's the baklava?

You should have lit them first!

We just want to eat it.

Blow them out!

Thanks, guys. So I'm 18 now.

First we just heard a deafening noise.

A helicopter was practicing emergency maneuvers above the sea.

For a reason still unknown to the experts...

it plunged headflrst into the sea.

It was then that Sentain's heroism came to the fore.

One person died.

Pierre, the Corsican.

That day, something overpowering took hold of my heart.

I thought about the end -

the end of me...

the end of Forestier.

Sentain, step forward.