Chard: Mr. Witt! When I have the impertinence to climb into your pulpit to deliver a sermon, then you can tell me my duty.
Bromhead: Don’t throw those bloody spears at me.
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.
Chard: I came here to build a bridge.
Private: Why us? Why does it have to be us?
Sergeant: Because we’re here lad.
Reverend Otto Witt: 1,000 British soldiers have been massacred. While I stood here talking peace, a war has started.
Chard: What’s our strength?
Bromhead: 7 officers including surgeon, commercaries and so on, Ardndorff 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.
Bromhead: Damn the levies man… Cowardly blacks!
Ardndorff: 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?
Bromhead: 60!, we got at least 60 wouldn’t you say?
Ardndorff: That leaves only 3,940.
Bourne: It’s a miracle.
Chard: If it’s a miracle Colour Sergeant, it’s a short chamber Boxer Henry, point 4-5 caliber miracle.
Bourne: And a bayonet sir, with some guts behind.
Bromhead: You mean your only plan is to stand behind a few feet of mealie bags and wait for the attack?
Chard: Do you think I could stand this butcher’s yard more than once?