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.