Last question.
Fifty years from now, some youngster's
gonna pull this disc out of a box
and maybe make a judgment
about becoming a journalist.
What would you want that youngster
to know about Marie Colvin
and about being
a w*r correspondent?
Very difficult question.
It's like writing, uh,
your own obituary.
I suppose to look back at it and say,
you know, I cared enough
to go to these places
and write, in some way,
something that would make someone
else care as much about it
as I did at the time.
Part of it is you're never
gonna get to where you're going
if you acknowledge fear.
I think fear comes later,
when it's all over.
- Are you stuck?
- Yeah.
Struggling with the end.
The hero always
gets the girl.
It's a book
about naval warfare,
but I will
keep that in mind.
We should get married again.
It didn't work so well
last time, did it?
We can go sailing.
I was looking at Antigua.
It's beautiful.
I wanna try for a baby again.
I don't think
that's a good idea.
Why not?
We tried.
You're not 35 anymore.
- Zoe?
- Yeah.
- Is Simon in Palestine?
- No.
Oh, for f*ck's sake.
The Telegraph are already there.
We're gonna lose the scoop
on Arafat.
Who else could go?
Oh, shit.
Blue screen of death.
Let me, um...
You just control, alt
and then delete,
and then you just hold it down for,
like, three or four seconds.
There you go.
Thanks. Are you new?
Yeah, I am.
I'm Kate Richardson.
Just started on
the foreign desk last week.
- Oh, great. Marie Colvin.
- Yeah, I know who you are.
I'm your biggest fan.
I'd love to pick your brain sometime.
Well...
My first word of advice
is don't do anything
he tries to get you to do.
Who?
Hey, Marie. I need you
in Palestine, not Sri Lanka.
Sean, there is
an unreported w*r there.
Yes, because journalists have been
banned for more than six years.
I can't let you go.
Thousands
of starving children.
If the government catches you,
they'll k*ll you.
Look, I have an interview
with a Tamil rebel leader.
Find someone else.
Sri Lanka.
The government refuses
to let UN aid through their siege lines.
Well, the government's denying
there's an embargo on the Vanni.
The government lies.
You have a reputation for speaking honestly,
Miss Colvin.
People listen to you.
You must let the world know
the Tamil Tigers are willing
for a political settlement.
We only demand equal rights.
Look, that all goes back
to British colonial rule.
I can't fix that. Anyway,
that's not why I'm here.
Then what will
you write about?
Half of the people
living here are starving,
and the other half are sick.
Sure, the government
is blockading aid,
but what little gets through is
stolen by your own Tiger army.
There are people dying here and
nobody knows it's happening.
In w*r zones,
parents go to bed at night
not knowing if their children
will see the morning.
That is a measure of fear
that I can never feel.
But when
you're covering a w*r,
you have to go to places
where you could be k*lled,
or where others
are being k*lled...
Go there.
...and put one foot in front of
the other, no matter how afraid you are,
to make that suffering
part of the record.
Is it safe?
Is it safe to walk through?
Only this way out.
Only this side.
- Is this the only way out?
- This way.
Okay.
Marie, be careful.
Stay down.
I'm not armed!
Journalist! American!
Get your hands off me.
I can't see.
Where am I?
I can't see.
- Get your hands off me. I can't see.
- Calm down. It's okay.
Where am I?
Oh, my God. I can't see.
- You must rest, Miss Colvin.
- I need my notebook.
Conc...
Conciliatory words do not
come easy to Thamilselvan,
the second in command
of the Tamil Tigers.
The walking stick he carries
is a legacy of the three times
he was shot in battle
since the beginning of the
bloody w*r for independence.
David. Door.
I've got it.
He's looking at me with
such tenderness and concern
and I just can't stand it
anymore, and he says,
"We can try
to save the eye."
And I said, "Not until you turn
off that f*cking whale music."
- Whoa, whoa!
- Hey, babe, let me.
No, don't help me.
Don't you dare f*cking help me.
All right, this is our last bottle.
Get it right.
The table has had
more wine than I have.
Go on. Go on.
- Oh.
- Oh.
Oh, here's one.
"We Tamils are so proud of your brave
foreign correspondent, Marie Colvin.
- Aw.
- "We appreciate her visit to the Vanni area
"to bring the news
to the outside world,
"and we wish her,
'Get well soon.'"
- Wow.
- Sting and Trudie wish you well, too,
and they said there are lots of famous
people who are blind in one eye.
Um, Sammy Davis Jr.
The bloke from Radiohead.
- James Joyce.
- Moshe Dayan.
Moshe Dayan.
Oh! They all
wore eye patches.
Eye patch.
What an amazing idea.
That is the worst idea
I've ever heard.
- Babe.
- I'm not a f*cking pirate.
You'd look great.
You would look so sexy.
- For me, my darling.
- This is absolutely happening.
Here's Amy.
You look great, Marie.
You look amazing.
- So good to see you.
- You, too. You, too.
Congratulations.
On behalf of the newspaper,
a very large thank you.
- Hey.
- Hi.
- Can I get you another drink?
- No. Let me.
I will leave you two
to talk shop.
Thank you.
- Don't stand there. I can't see you.
- Oh, sorry.
- Is that better?
- Yeah.
- Was that the best you had?
- Yeah.
- People are calling it stupid.
- The picture?
No, you going in.
Well, I think stupid
is writing a column
about the dinner party
you went to last night.
The paper will do anything you want.
You know that, don't you?
Anything?
Yeah,
you were our best asset on the foreign desk.
Were?
I'm not hanging up
my flak jacket, Sean.
Good.
Glad we got that cleared up.
Ladies and gentlemen,
our Foreign Correspondent of the Year,
known for racking up the largest sat
phone bill in Sunday Times history,
our very own living legend,
Marie Colvin.
Do you ever have nightmares?
- What?
- Nightmares.
From when you were
in the field.
Yeah.
Bosnia.
Serb soldiers posing
with decapitated heads.
They seemed very pleased
with themselves.
Still have it sometimes.
When were you
gonna call her?
Who?
The girl.
I'm guessing
you got her number.
Thank you. Keep it.
Yeah, yeah, okay,
I got her number.
I was gonna
call her tomorrow.
Or maybe the day after.
Or maybe I wasn't. I don't know.
That's the level of respect
you have for me.
Oh, come on, you are constantly
leaving me for some faraway place.
Despite that,
I've always been here for you.
- I never asked you to be.
- You shouldn't have gone to Sri Lanka.
I told you to stop
all this so long ago,
and you are like
a moth to a bloody flame.
I mean, look at you.
You were so beautiful.
Well, f*ck off.
Go on. f*ck off,
back to your novels.
Hey, get your hands off me.
Hands off.
Miss Mary.
Mourad.
Oh.
- You came in the potato truck!
- I came in the potato truck.
- Nice. Nice eye patch.
- Oh, thank you, Mourad.
And how are you?
Ah, I made it to lunchtime
in one piece, so I'm thankful.
Shit. You know,
we're gonna be late.
I wanna pick something up in the
Green Zone before we go to Fallujah.
Okay. Yalla. Yalla.
So good to see you, Miss Mary.
Am I glad to see you.
While here,
you are considered guests of the
Coalition Provisional Authority.
Refusal to cooperate with
the rules as we've outlined
for embedded reporters
will result in an immediate
revocation of press privileges.
You must remain with that unit for the
entire duration of the assignment.
God, we used to go
wherever we wanted.
Hey, Norm.
It's like they're drugging
the f*cking journalists.
- Yeah.
- You will be disembedded.
- How you holding up?
- I still can't measure distances.
Who knew your left eye
was so important?
- When was the last time you slept?
- Ah, I don't sleep.
Where you headed?
God, you gotta be
more subtle than that.
Oh, come on. After everything
I did for you in East Timor?
- What have you got?
- East Timor? Sure, I remember you.
Riding off into the sunset
with the UN.
At least
I saved you a seat.
- You were in East Timor?
- Yeah.
Back when you were
still in college.
Ah. Never went to college.
Oh, God. I'm f*cking
done after this.
Oh, Norm, you wouldn't
know what else to do.
And you couldn't live
with the fear of missing out.
All right,
let's have television media head this way,
print media,
back of the hangar.
Well, welcome back.
Hey, we missed you.
See you at the Hamra, Norm.
- Save me a seat at the bar.
- You bet.
I'm not getting angry.
You're not letting me
do my job.
What's your name?
- Paul.
- I'm Marie.
- I know.
- So, you're freelance?
- Always.
- Any good?
The best.
- Come on.
- What, now?
I need a photographer.
I've never found one I like.
Let's see how you do.
- Now?
- Yeah.
You don't think I subscribe
to all that bullshit, do you?
- Where are we going?
- Fallujah.
- We can't just drive to Fallujah.
- Why not?
- 'Cause we'll be targeted.
- Are you scared?
- No.
- Good.
Feras says
he personally drove
a truck full of bodies to a desert
camp overlooking Lake Habbaniyah.
Now, listen to me.
Listen, Marie...
Six hundred people k*lled
by S*ddam in 1991,
buried in trenches
60 miles west of Baghdad.
We won't get to it if we're behind
the American advance.
- It's not an option.
- Well, no.
- We're going to Fallujah.
- It's too dangerous.
Everywhere's too dangerous.
What about the Ramadi story,
S*ddam's men working with Al-Qaeda?
There's no source on that yet,
but trust me on the mass grave.
People have been searching
for this for years.
Okay, well, then,
I need you to find bodies.
I'll call you when I do.
f*ck.
Miss Mary.
They're not American.
They're either S*ddam's police
or his militia.
They're not gonna want us here
either way.
He wants to know who you are.
Sir, we're aid workers.
We're here to help the doctors
in Lake Habbaniyah.
See? I'm a nurse.
This says "health."
"Health."
f*ck me.
Was that your gym card?
All right. Here we go.
Yeah, yeah,
yeah, yeah, yeah.
He wants to know
where your medical equipment is.
Tell him it's gone ahead.
Turn around. Turn around.
What's he saying?
He said we don't need doctors
where we're going.
Yalla.
Shall we go?
f*ck.
Jesus Christ.
Your f*cking gym card.
You burned me
with your cigarette.
I'm sorry. f*ck me.
What's he saying?
He's just apologizing
for being late.
- No problem. No problem.
- Thank you for coming.
I wanna start over there.
Is that okay?
What if you don't
find anything?
And I want to know the
stories of individual people.
I want to tell their stories.
Can she tell me about her father?
Don't f*cking touch me.
Paul, he wants the camera
and wants you to stop.
No.
There are hundreds of people
buried here.
Miss Mary,
they're going to arrest us if we don't stop.
Ask him whose side he's on.
Tell me in Arabic.
I'll tell him.
Have some respect.
Have some respect.
Allahu akbar.
...allied forces
targeted key locations in Baghdad,
the northern Mosul area
as well as southern Iraq,
near the Iraq-Kuwait border.
US officials have told us
that S*ddam Hussein
and some of his highest-ranking
officials are among the targets...
- Paul, are you okay?
- I can't stop thinking about it.
Get another drink.
- You want one?
- Not when I'm working.
Are we selling
a phony w*r?
Paul, what we saw,
was it phony?
No.
"w*r is not so terrible
for governments.
"For they are not wounded or
k*lled like ordinary people."
While on patrol
today with the Seventh Brigade,
we encountered fierce enemy fire from
insurgents on the outskirts of Baghdad.
Meanwhile, it seems as though
we hit very strategic...
But she's calling
US forces "we."
- Don't worry about it.
- Why not?
Because it doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter what type of
plane just bombed a village.
What is important
is the human cost of the act.
People connect with people,
so you find their stories,
tell their stories,
forget about the other stuff.
You mean close your eyes?
- She's already got one eye closed.
- It's not funny.
Thanks.
Look, this is
the rough draft of history.
You have to find
the truth of it.
If you lose that,
you're not helping anybody here.
You're just making
yourself feel better.
I'm going to bed.
Right. Night, Kate.
Sleep tight.
f*ck off.
Oh, f*ck.
Paul, do you know
how to recover a file?
Give it over.
I don't know why I bother.
I should just go back
to dictation.
- This is weird.
- What?
I've always looked up to you,
and now here I am,
saving your work
from your own folly.
Have you saved my work?
Wait.
I'm not good under pressure.
- Ta-da.
- You're a bloody genius.
Night, Marie.
Night.
Bones and decomposed robes emerged
amid the dirt of the machine's jaws.
A small pelvis
that was unearthed
appeared to have been that
of a young teenager.
Limbs severed,
dirt and rock and flesh torn alike.
The knowledge of the fragility of
the human body never leaves you
once you've seen...
Once you've seen
how easily flesh can be rent
by hot bits of metal.
Once you've seen...
f*ck.
Hey. It's Marie.
Leave a message if you want.
Although I never
actually check this.
It's just as well,
to be honest.
I'm up to my neck
in politics
and we need to report
on the recovery of the euro.
Forget it.
Go with the mass grave.
Have you actually spoken to her
since she got back from Baghdad?
Of course I have.
It's pretty grim
for a Sunday front page.
Yeah. Is it provocative? Yes.
Will it make people
choke on their cornflakes
when they're reading
about these poor sods? Yes.
We're onto a bloody winner.
f*ck the bloody euro.
Listen, I don't think I can come
and see you all this weekend.
Oh,
I really want you to see Chloe.
She's almost started walking.
And I just
saw that girl again.
Who?
That child's lifeless body.
I can't get it out of my head.
- I can't get her out of my head, Rita.
- Which child, Marie? Marie?
The girl
who's always on my bed.
Oh, go on, f*ck off.
Go on, f*ck off.
God. Okay.
Just tell Sean
to stop f*cking calling me.
- I wanna be alone.
- Right, okay.
Done.
Marie,
can we talk now, please?
If you hold the sheet steady.
You have been avoiding
this conversation for months.
Do you think
you might have, you know,
post-traumatic
stress disorder?
No.
PTSD is what soldiers get.
Come on, we both know you can get it
from just witnessing a car accident.
I think you need
to talk to someone.
- I'm not crazy, Rita.
- I'm not saying you're crazy.
Sean doesn't have the balls
to stand up to you,
or he doesn't want to because
you're his prize pig, but...
You're not well.
We just want you
to get help.
Thanks for letting me
come and visit.
If you're not f*cking crazy when
you come into a place like this,
you definitely will be
if you get out.
So is this
where you grew up?
Huh.
Yeah, that's the north shore
of Long Island.
Oyster Bay.
Not the ritzy part.
Who's this? Your boyfriend?
No, that's creepy.
That's my dad.
Oh.
Sorry.
Marie, when bad shit happens,
your brain goes into shock.
It... It locks the trauma in the
same place you process emotions,
which isn't where
memories are meant to live.
That's why
it feels so present.
Is that why
you left the army?
No. I was court-martialed.
Planted some hashish
in my locker to get out.
How long did it take you
to get better?
A long bloody time.
Marie, you've seen more w*r
than most soldiers.
You have to take it seriously.
You want psychobabble?
Right, I'll give it to you.
I...
I really looked up
to my father.
I was tormented
when he died
because he never understood the fact
that I might have opinions of my own.
I love my mother,
but I struggle with her
because I can never be the suburban
housewife in the safe f*cking life.
I diet fiercely because
I don't wanna get fat,
but I also have seen so many
people in the world go hungry,
so I... I like to eat.
I, um...
I wanna be a mom, like my sister,
but I've had two miscarriages
and I have to accept the fact
that I might never be that.
I fear growing old.
But then I also fear
dying young.
I'm most happy with a
vodka martini in my hand,
but I can't
stand the fact that the chatter
in my head won't go quiet
until there's a quart of vodka
inside me.
I hate being in a w*r zone.
But I also feel compelled,
compelled to see it
for myself.
Because you're addicted to it.
You're all right.
Hey.
Hey.
You're all right.
Sorry.
It's all right.
It's allowed.
Who did you say
my father looked like?
Aww.
- What do you think?
- Suits you.
Yeah, well, black seemed
so grim suddenly.
Do you, um... Do you need
some more flowers?
Thank you.
That's very sweet of you.
Iraq, Afghanistan,
Blair, Bush.
Now, we're struggling
to cover it all.
- Thank you.
- Thank you for what?
For trying to flatter me.
I didn't come here to flatter you.
I came here to see how you're doing.
And to, um...
You can speak freely.
Paul and I became
quite close in Iraq.
Can you give us a moment,
please, Paul?
Sure.
Are you okay?
Mmm.
We miss you, Marie.
You have a God-given talent
to make people stop and care.
Where do you see yourself
in 10 years, Sean?
Haven't really
thought about it.
Don't be English.
Be honest.
Well, in that case,
I wanna be the most highly regarded,
well-respected, award-winning
editor Fleet Street's ever seen.
Then get me back in the field.
I can't do that.
And you're not ready,
are you?
Well, then, maybe I just
have to find a shrink in here
who'll testify to my sanity.
Well, you got Yasser Arafat to
give you his life story, so...
Look, I've got a lunch, but...
Don't worry, your position on the
foreign team isn't going anywhere.
- Doesn't look good.
- Oh, my God. Oh, no.
What is it? IED?
Yeah, must be.
- Is that Norm?
- Yeah.
Is someone helping
this little boy?
- Guys, can we get a medic?
- I'll take care of him.
You'll be okay, all right?
w*r is the quiet
bravery of civilians
who will endure far more
than I ever will,
of those asked to fight and those
who are just trying to survive.
Mothers, fathers,
sons and daughters,
traumatized families,
bereft and inconsolable.
Checkpoint outside
Lashkargah's been hit.
Taliban's opened fire on
civilians. It seems risky.
That's nowhere near where
we're supposed to be going.
What shall we do?
We have to go.
Norm. Hey, Norm.
If I ditch the babysitters,
you got room for two?
Sure.
In covering w*r,
can we really make a difference?
The real difficulty is having
enough faith in humanity
to believe that
enough people will care
when your story
finally reaches them.
Oh, Danny boy
The pipes, the pipes
are calling
From glen
to glen and down the mountain side
Oh, Danny boy
Oh, Danny boy
I love you so
Beautiful. Fantastic.
Please pick a sadder song next time.
f*ck.
Ladies and gentlemen,
I would like to thank you
for braving the cold
and joining us for our fourth annual
"End-Of-Dry-January" party.
Four Decembers ago, an associate
and I, after a very good year,
decided to take
our best shipping client,
uh, for a celebratory dinner
in Milan.
After much booze
and, um, other substances,
I have no f*cking idea
what happened.
Anyway, I decided that it was best
to pump the old brakes in January.
I'm very glad
to have you here
to celebrate the end
of that wretched month
and to being alive.
Being alive!
Cheers.
Being alive!
Being alive!
Hey, Rita. Rita.
Don't go. It's still early.
Darling, it's 2:00 a.m. I have to be
up early to make breakfast for Chloe.
Well, stay and then
I'll come with you.
- Not like that, you won't.
- What's that supposed to mean?
We're not having
vodka for breakfast.
No, I'm fine.
Everything's fine.
When did you
get so crusty?
When did you become
an alcoholic?
Well, I've been drinking since I was 15,
so it's been a while.
What do you hear
when the music stops?
I don't hear
anything at all.
Shit.
My minicab's here.
Look, I'm sorry.
I'm tired.
Why don't you skip all this,
come back to mine for a cup of tea?
No. You give your little angel
a kiss in the morning
from Aunt Marie, the pirate.
Take care out there
on the high seas, all right?
Bye-bye.
Love you.
- Hi.
- Hi.
- Thanks for having us over.
- My pleasure.
- Marie.
- Tony.
- Nice to meet you.
- Nice to meet you.
- Can I bum one of those?
- Certainly.
Where'd you get that
eye patch, Marie?
Uh, Treasure Island.
Really?
I heard...
I heard you got it
in Sri Lanka.
- You did?
- Which is hard to say sometimes.
I asked Amy.
And you, uh...
You background-check all of your
potential one-night stands?
I don't have
one-night stands.
- Oh.
- I don't. No, I don't, I don't.
I have sexual adventures.
One-night stands, no.
I always end up
with psychos.
Perfect.
How do you take it?
- Black.
- Mmm-hmm.
Mmm.
- You work in the city?
- Yeah.
Sometimes.
But I travel a lot, so...
Your apartment looks like
Patrick Bateman's London nightmare.
Thank you.
And you look like a cleric
I met in Tehran.
Oh, yeah.
I just had to dry my hair.
That one.
Is that who you were
shouting at last night?
What do you mean,
shouting about?
I think you were
having a nightmare.
I wasn't.
- I don't have nightmares.
- Okay.
Look...
I'm a single father
who was a really shitty husband,
and when I'm not working hard,
I just like to...
- Live hard.
- Yeah.
I had a great time with you last night
and I would like to see you again.
As the Arab Spring continues to
sweep across the Middle East and North Africa,
it is intensifying in Libya,
where thousands of Libyans
took to the streets
to voice their discontent
over their leader,
Muammar Gaddafi.
According to witnesses,
dozens of civilians have been k*lled
in protests that have erupted
in multiple cities across the country.
- Sean.
- Yes.
Rebels are mobilizing across Libya.
Gaddafi's still not budging.
- Okay. Did Kate make it in?
- I'm checking.
Simon's in, too,
and so is Marie, last I heard.
Last you heard?
The officers r*ped
the girls first, even had music playing.
They called me down
and they ordered me to r*pe a girl.
She didn't move much
when I r*ped her.
She said in a low voice,
"There is Allah.
He is watching you."
I said, "Gaddafi is Allah."
He said,
"Gaddafi is Allah"?
Where are you
taking us, Abdallah?
To find the other soldiers
who r*ped the girls in Tawergha.
- How many girls?
- I don't know.
I know.
Abdallah, come on.
I need to know
what we're dealing with here.
I can't be sure.
Maybe a thousand. Maybe more.
One thousand?
Gaddafi's punishment
for the uprising.
Allahu akbar!
I feel that we've failed
if we don't face what w*r does,
if we don't face
the human horrors
and tell people
what really happens
when all sides try
to obscure the truth.
Stay down.
Go on.
- Come on, let's go.
- No, wait!
Down, down.
Come on, come on.
Please listen to me
next time.
f*cking listen to me.
Listen to me.
I spoke to the rebel leader.
He said the rebels are pushing west.
- They're pincering Gaddafi's forces.
- Marie...
No, we're turning up
w*r crimes, Sean.
You f*cking sent
Kate in here, too?
There's a lot
to cover in Libya.
You're worried I can't deliver you
a front-page splash?
I'm not having this conversation with you.
Did you get my text?
The next thing I know,
you'll be putting me in the
f*cking gardening section.
- Don't tempt me.
- Marie.
Rmi? What happened?
- RPG attack.
- RPG attack?
- Did you get my text?
- Your text? What?
Marie?
Marie?
Marie?
Marie?
Why don't
we go back inside, eh?
Paul, it's all gone quiet
up here.
It's all gone quiet.
Come on.
Stop f*cking around.
Marie?
- There.
- Mmm.
You scared
the shit out of me.
I would call you a p*ssy,
but pussies are tough as shit.
In East Timor,
Norm made me this T-shirt.
It said, "Don't sh**t me.
I'm a w*r reporter."
He was always
first in, last out.
He was invincible.
There are old journalists
and there are bold journalists.
There are no old
and bold journalists.
You said that.
He had a red line
and he crossed it.
Norm knew what he was doing.
Mmm, yeah, I guess he did.
Can I have
a cigarette, please?
f*cking hell.
I gotta get cleaned up.
I gotta go.
Where?
Faruq got me face time
with an old acquaintance.
- Now?
- Yeah.
Well, in two hours.
Can I ask you
a personal question?
There are
no personal questions.
What's with the fancy bra?
You're calling this a bra?
This is not a bra.
This is La Perla.
I mean, if anyone's gonna
pull my corpse from a trench,
I want them to be impressed.
Right. The tough
w*r correspondent.
Jesus Christ.
You okay?
- Mary.
- Colonel.
You remember the first time
you came to interview me?
I do. You tried
to take my blood.
You were very pale.
I was young and nave,
and you scared the shit out of me.
Today's
presidents who say I should leave,
I tell them,
"You might finish your time,
but you will retire.
"But I will still be
leader of the revolution."
What about the Libyan people,
persecuted, tortured, m*rder*d?
Al-Qaeda, Al-Qaeda.
They drug the Libyan
youth to make them rise up against me.
So you're prepared to sink
your country into civil w*r.
Thousands will be k*lled.
The superpowers don't consider
you strategically important enough
to care about you.
All you have is oil.
Al-Qaeda, Al-Qaeda.
Not my people.
So you finance bloodshed
to be noticed.
You funded the IRA,
the Shining Path in Peru,
Sword of Islam
in the Philippines.
- All to gain international recognition...
- Al-Qaeda, Al-Qaeda.
...that will never come.
The only people
who did believe in you
wound up at the wrong end
of your rockets.
Was it really Al-Qaeda
who brainwashed Libyans?
Or was it you?
Of all the women in the world,
I like spending time
with you most.
More than Condi Rice.
Even though she's a strong
woman of African origin.
He called his enemies rats.
He targeted
women and children.
Yet it was
Colonel Muammar Gaddafi
who was cornered
in a sewer pipe.
Having never fought a w*r
until now,
his cruel dictatorship ended
in ignominy and death.
A big-game trophy
brought down in the wild.
Marie.
- Zoe. Is she in there?
- Yeah.
Hey. Sorry, sorry.
It's been bloody m*rder today.
Shall we go?
I am starving.
- Where do you fancy?
- Anywhere.
You've been
very quiet recently.
What's that
supposed to mean?
Your last story
was in October.
My knees aren't
what they used to be.
Have you
fallen in love again?
Tony.
We're going sailing in Antigua.
That's wonderful.
But you're up there
with bloody Martha Gellhorn.
Everyone's holding
their breath
for how you're gonna
follow up Libya.
Sean, I have nightmares
every night.
- I can only imagine.
- I'm running, trying to get to this house.
It used to be a nice house,
but it's gone now.
All that's left now
is mutilated bodies and rubble.
- Marie...
- Are you completely gutless?
Are you drunk?
No, I'm not drunk.
How does it feel to be the person
pushing us all around the world
for that piece of tin
to put on your f*cking shelf?
- You can't smoke in here.
- f*ck off.
You knew I had Libya covered
and you still tried to f*ck me.
You sent Kate in
as insurance, didn't you?
'Cause you didn't trust me
to do my f*cking job.
What do you
want me to say?
That you were wrong
and you're sorry.
I was wrong and I'm sorry.
Can you put the cigarette out, please?
I'm finished.
Why am I always
the f*cking bad guy?
I had to cover myself in Libya because
you are totally unpredictable.
God knows everybody
loves you, Marie,
but you are a pain
in the f*cking arse.
- David Blundy.
- Who?
- David Blundy.
- What about him?
He left for The Telegraph
before you joined.
- I took his job.
- What is your point?
And then he was k*lled
two years later in San Salvador.
Joo Silva lost both legs
at the knee in Kandahar
while working
for the New York Times.
I was with him
in Afghanistan.
- Safa Abu Seif.
- Who did he work for?
She was a 12-year-old
Palestinian girl
k*lled by a stray b*llet
that pierced her heart.
I watched her parents hold her
as she bled out.
She was wearing
pearl earrings.
She probably thought
she looked pretty that day.
I see it,
so you don't have to.
How about
the gardening section, Marie?
Would that make you happy?
One word to Watkins
and you're there.
Is that what
they all died for?
- I don't know what they died for.
- Yes, you do.
You see it so that
we don't have to, yes,
but also because you couldn't
imagine a world in which you didn't.
No one in their right mind
would do what you do, Marie.
But if you lose
your conviction,
then what hope
do the rest of us have?
Maybe I would have liked a more normal life.
Maybe I just don't know how.
Or maybe this is where I
feel most comfortable.
f*cking hell.
Paul, what the f*ck
are they singing?
I think they're celebrating
our arrival.
Allahu Akbar!
Allahu Akbar!
Allahu Akbar!
Jesus Christ, Marie.
f*ck. Way worse
than I thought.
Here.
Wh... Where's Abu Zaida?
Abu Zaida, Marie Colvin,
Sunday Times.
One of the FSA fighters told me
he'd counted 47 explosions a minute.
Shelling starts
at 6:30 every morning.
They start with one location,
they sweep the neighborhood
with everything they have,
mortars, a*tillery, missiles.
- Right. I heard 5,000 troops.
- Hell.
4th Armored Division
led by Assad's brother.
- How many civilians?
- 28,000 trapped.
- Mostly women and children.
- Where?
Where are they?
Tell me where they are.
It's too dangerous
to go out right now.
The main offensive
can start at any moment.
Which is why you have to
tell me where they are,
so I can go out there
before it starts.
For what?
People are seeing us being butchered
and they still call us t*rrorists.
You deserted.
- Deserted who?
- You deserted Assad's army.
- Yes.
- Why?
You wanted to be free.
Let me tell your story.
- You'll translate for me?
- Yes.
I want people
to know your story.
Yes, she was
under the rubble.
How old was her daughter?
Five years old.
You're connected now.
We have
to stay away from the sat phone.
Assad's drones can locate the signal
and we become a m*ssile target.
Although who knows
if that's even secure.
I don't think it's Israel.
Well, the Israeli embassy was hit
by bombers in Georgia and in India.
I was thinking more about
the Arab Spring going to shit.
Muslim Brotherhood
in Egypt or Syria.
- We've got Marie trying to...
- She made it into Homs.
You know, it's okay,
the decor.
It's a shame
about the f*cking banging.
I told you we should
have gone to Aleppo.
I should have
f*cking listened.
Last time I book a f*cking
vacation on the Internet.
f*ck me.
Holy shit.
- Did she file?
- I've got it. It's here.
- It's printing.
- Okay, go get it.
Marie's story's
a pretty strong rebuttal
to Assad's claims
that he's bombing t*rrorists.
What's the plan now?
She needs to get
the hell out of there.
There's an as*ault coming.
We need to go now. Now, now, now!
- Stop.
- What are you doing?
I gotta go back. There are
28,000 people there.
- We can't abandon them.
- No, no. Listen to me!
You're brilliant and brave,
and, f*ck, you've got
an amazing nose for a story.
But you don't have
a military brain, all right?
- Hey, hey, hey.
- Let me go.
We will f*cking die
if we go back, okay?
- We will f*cking die.
- I gotta go back.
- You go.
- No.
- Save me a seat at the bar.
- No. Which bar?
Where?
Marie!
f*ck!
Come on. Come here.
Sean, she's back.
- Can everyone shut up?
- Shh.
Quiet.
Hey, what are you doing?
I thought of an item
for the gardening section.
I'm about to have a stroke here.
Can you be serious?
- I want to broadcast.
- All good?
- Yeah, okay.
- You don't have to do this.
You've already given us
more than we need.
- No. I want to broadcast.
- It's not safe.
And then I wanna go back to the hospital.
I wanna get more video.
Marie, listen to me.
You do not have to do this.
Okay, but I...
f*ck!
f*ck.
- Signal's gone down.
- No shit.
- The phone.
- Hey.
I already told you
if you use the sat phone,
those drones will know
where we are.
- They'll blow us out of here.
- We don't have time.
- Let me see if I can fix it.
- We don't have time!
Wait. Let me see...
Channel 4, BBC, CNN,
all want to broadcast.
Okay.
Fine, but then you leave
at the first opportunity. Agreed?
Hello? Hello?
We're gonna
patch you through to CNN.
Putting you on
in five, four, three, two...
...Marie Colvin
of the Sunday Times of London,
who joins us now from Homs.
Why is it important, do you think,
to see these images?
Why is it important
for you to be there?
Right now you may be one of
the only Western journalists in Homs.
Our team has just left.
For an audience for which
any conflict is very far away,
this is the reality.
There are 28,000 civilians,
men, women and children,
a city of the cold
and hungry,
starving, defenseless.
There are no telephones.
The electricity has been cut off.
Families are sharing what they have
with relatives and neighbors.
I have sat with literally hundreds
of women
with infant children
who are trapped in these
cold, brutal conditions,
unable to feed their children
anything other than sugar
and water for weeks on end.
That little boy was one of
two children who died today.
It's what happens every day.
The Syrian regime is claiming that
they're not hitting civilians,
that they're just going after
t*rror1st gangs.
But every civilian house
has been hit.
The top floor of the building
I'm in has been totally destroyed.
There are no military
targets here.
It is a complete
and utter lie.
Well, thank you
for using the world "lie."
I think a lot of people
wanna thank you
because it's a word
we don't often hear,
it's not often used,
but it's the truth in this case.
The Syrian regime, their representatives,
have continually lied.
They've lied on this program
to us directly.
Marie, I mean, you have covered a
lot of conflicts over a long time.
How does this compare?
This is the worst conflict
I've ever seen.
It's the worst because
it was a peaceful uprising
that was crushed by v*olence.
President Assad is sitting in his
palace in Damascus in panic, the entire
security apparatus his father
built crumbling around him,
and he is responding in the
only way he's been taught how.
When he was a child,
he watched his father
crush opposition by shelling
the city of Hama into ruins
and k*lling 10,000
innocent civilians.
He watched,
as we're watching,
a dictator
k*lling with impunity.
And the words
on everybody's lips here are,
"Why have we been abandoned?"
"Why?"
I don't know why.
Marie Colvin, um, I know it's impossible
to stay safe, but please try.
Thank you for talking to us.
Marie. Marie,
we need to get out now.
- We have to go back to the clinic.
- No.
- There'll be more casualties.
- We got the f*cking story.
- You did it. It's enough.
- We can get more.
- They're bracketing.
- What is that?
They're trying
to find their range.
They've found us.
Marie, come on,
let's go.
Paul.
Marie.
Very difficult question.
It's like writing, uh,
your own obituary.
I suppose to look back at it
and say, you know, I cared enough
to go to these places
and write, in some way,
something that would make
someone else care as much about it
as I did at the time.
Part of it is you're never gonna get
to where you're going
if you acknowledge fear.
I think fear comes later,
when it's all over.
A Private w*r (2018)
Moderator: Maskath3
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