Dog Soldiers (film)

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Dog Soldiers is a 2002 British horror film about a squad of British soldiers trapped in a remote farmhouse, fighting against a pack of werewolves.

Written and directed by Neil Marshall.
Six men. Full moon. No chance. (taglines)

Sergeant Harry G. Wells[edit]

  • I am not breaking radio silence just cos' you lot got spooked by a dead flying fucking cow.
  • We are now up against live, hostile targets. So, if Little Red Riding Hood should show up with a bazooka and a bad attitude, I expect you to chin the bitch.
  • I just didn't make it out this time, that's all. When I signed my life away on that dotted line, I fucking meant it. I am a professional soldier.


  • Every month, when the moon is full, they hunt as a team. Dedicated to the kill. During that time, at least fifteen people have vanished. Hikers mostly. In small groups or alone. They're caught out in the open, hunted down, torn apart and devoured. I've never witness the actual slaughter, but the next day, no bodies, no werewolves, just blood.
  • Up until today you believed there was a line between myth and reality. Maybe a very fine line sometimes, but at least there was a line. Those things out there are real. If they're real, what else is real? You know what lives in the shadows now. You may never get another night's sleep as long as you live.

Private Cooper[edit]

  • We are gonna make it through this. You know why? I don't scare that easy.
  • [to Captain Ryan, about failing to join Special Forces] Yeah, I failed. I'm bloody glad of it. Cos' given the choice of takin' orders from a toffee-nosed twat like you and sluggin' it out with these guys, I'll take the underdogs any time.
  • Ryan. Ya tried lickin' your own balls yet? [the werewolf Ryan slams him against the wall] I forgot, you don't fuckin' have any.
  • [last lines of the film] You think it's all over? It is now. [shoots Ryan in the head, killing him]

Captain Ryan[edit]

  • Of course, the real trick to survival lies not in running and hiding, but in removing your enemy's capacity to hunt you down.
  • We're on a different level here, Cooper. For that, I need men of action, not deeds.

Private "Spoon" Witherspoon[edit]

  • [to attacking werewolf] I hope I give you the shits, you fucking wimp.


Wells: If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya. Because we're firing blanks doesn't mean we have to be thinking nice thoughts. So you remember, you keep the fire down, right, you get stuck in and you kick their fucking teeth out, or I guarantee you, Joe, they will be eating your bollocks for breakfast, sunshine.
Milburn: Hard-boiled or fried, Sarge?
Wells: Scrambled.

[The men are camped around a fire in the Scottish Highlands]
Cooper: Go on then, Bruce, what scares you?
Campbell: The self-destructive nature of the human condition.
Spoon: You're just takin' the piss now.
Campbell: Oh, you think so?
Cooper: What about you then, Spoon?
Spoon: Castration.
Cooper: Hm, there's no argument there. Joe?
Kirkley: Only one thing guaranteed to put the shits up me: a penalty shoot-out.
Cooper: Figures. Terry?
Milburn: Watchin' a penalty shoot-out... with Joe.
Campbell: What about you, Coop?
Cooper: Spiders. And women. And, uh... spider-women.

Milburn: I want to know what scares the Sarge.
Spoon: Piss off, man, nothin' scares the Sarge.
Wells: I don't know about that, but the thought of never seeing my wife again scares the shit out of me. That and those little things that make your skin crawl and the hair stand up on the back of your neck.
Kirkley: You mean like Spoon? [Spoon makes an "up yours" gesture]
Wells: [chuckles] No, there's one thing, actually, in particular that I'll remember 'til the day I die. Yeah, it was back in '91, just before my unit was flown out to Kuwait to mop up the last pockets of resistance. Me and this young fella called Eddie Oswald decided to get a tattoo done to commemorate our first trip into the desert.
Campbell: I remember it, he was... he was a stocky hardcase with a broken nose and a bum eye, eh?
Wells: Yeah, that's him. Good-lookin' fella, big hit with the ladies. [the men chuckle] Anyway, me and Eddie, we went and had a few drinks - we had a lot of drinks - and we went down to the tattoo parlor, and I got a desert rat done. And Eddie, being Eddie, wanted something a bit more meaning. And being a bit of a believer, he said that his soul still belonged to God. But his flesh, oh, his flesh was way beyond redemption, and it was up to Satan to save his skin. So he got this fucking great laughing devil tattooed right on his arse. [the men laugh] Anyway, about six days later, we were making a regular sweep along the Iraqi border, and Eddie... poor fucker triggered an anti-tank mine.
[The men go quiet]
Wells: Yeah, we all saw it happen, I mean, he was on point. White, blinding lightning flash and a fucking deafening crack, and by the time we picked ourselves up off the deck, Eddie was... he was gone. Just bits and pieces of him, s'all that remained, this big fuckin' red circle, hundred meters. I'll tell you something, lads, it really puts things in perspective when you have to scoop your mate up with a shovel and stick him in a bin bag. Anyway, the thing that really did our nuts in that day was when you, uh... came across a bit you recognized. Bit of ear, toe, a nose, a tooth. But the thing that really freaked us out that day was when Lieutenant Charlie found a bit of Eddie with a tattoo on it. I mean, everything else was burnt to a crisp, covered in claret, all mushed up, pulped up. Not this bit. This bit was perfect. And there's old Nick, chortlin' his fuckin' arsehole off at us. So you could say that Eddie was right, that Satan did indeed save his skin. Just not all of it. Or you could say that Eddie was just unlucky. Either way, it taught me to keep a very open mind. Boom. Boom.

Wells: Right lads, ditch your ATs. From here on in the exercise is well and truly over. Anyone not carrying live rounds had better do so.
Ryan: It won't make any difference. They won't die.
Wells: [cocking his gun] Yeah, well, this gives me better peace of mind, sir.
Ryan: You want peace of mind? Run for lives before they tear your legs from under you.
Wells: Will you just shut up, like a good gentleman? You are scaring my lads.

[Cooper tries to push Wells' intestines back into his stomach]
Wells: My guts are out, Coop!
Cooper: We'll just put 'em back in then!
Wells: They're not gonna fucking fit!
Cooper: Of course they'll fit, man!

Megan: What happened?
Spoon: What happened? We were attacked by huge fuckin' howlin' things, that's what.

Spoon: You know what this reminds me of? Rorke's Drift. A hundred men of Harlech making a desperate stand against ten thousand Zulu warriors. Outnumbered, surrounded, staring death in the face, not flinching for a moment. Balls of British steel.
Kirkley: You're bloody loving this, aren't you? It's totally bone. That's all there is to say.

Cooper: [after Wells has had his intestines exposed] How are you feeling?
Wells: A touch of gas. And the fact that various body parts are trying to vacate the premises, fucking awful.

Cooper: What now?
Spoon: They shut down the generator!
Milburn: Why would they do that?
Megan: Because they can see in the dark.
Ryan: And you're afraid of it.

Megan: Tell me. Honestly, what are our chances?
Cooper: Morale seems good, considering. But that will only last as long as the ammunition holds out. Although high spirits are just no substitute for eight hundred rounds a minute, but I don't think that's what you wanted to hear.

Cooper: So either we all make a break for it and fight our way clear, or the rest of us keep them occupied while one of us goes for help.
Kirkley: And by the time the cavalry get here, they'll have to pick what's left of us from between their fuckin' teeth.

Cooper: Well, Ryan, you heard the score. Maybe one or two of us are gonna make it through this. I don't care much for our chances. D'ye like football?
Ryan: What, "they think it's all over" and all that crap? No, I don't.
Cooper: Well, Joe, you remember Joe? He liked football. Fuckin' lived for it.
Ryan: Is this relevant?
Cooper: He missed the most important match of his life for this bullshit exercise, and now he's dead along with two other mates I'd have readily given my right arm for. Too fuckin' right it's "relevant"!

Ryan: Ever heard of Special Weapons Division? They're the men in white coats who train dolphins to stick mines on submarines, and cute furry animals to tear your head off at the neck. They saw an opportunity and called me in.
Cooper: To do what? Catch one of these things?
Ryan: And to bring it back. Alive, if possible.
Megan: Only "it" turned out to be "them".
Ryan: We underestimated enemy numbers.
Cooper: Underestimated? I'd have a serious word with your head scheds about the quality of their intelligence.
Ryan: It may have been their invitation, but it was my party. I planned it, executed it.
Cooper: And you loused it up.
Wells: We lost good men, Ryan. Yours and mine. I want to know... [slides a tracking chip Campbell found in the radio over to Ryan] ...where we fit in.
Ryan: The reality is, you're expendable. And I had approval to put you at risk.
Cooper: [puts his knife to Ryan's throat] Get to the fuckin' point, Ryan!
Ryan: I made a gap in enemy lines. You were good enough to spot it, and predictable enough to go for it. That was your bait. You were mine.
Cooper: [steps back and stabs the knife into the mantel] You bastard.
Ryan: [sneering] I had to choose somebody. I remembered you. Monkey see, monkey do.
[Wells punches Ryan to the floor]
Wells: They were my men!
Cooper: Get up, ya shit! You know what we can do! Give us a fightin' chance!
Ryan: [eyes going yellow, beginning to transform] Live and learn, Cooper.

Cooper: Werewolves spend most of their time in human form, right? [holds up a picture of the family living in the house] And the only people for miles around live right here.
Spoon: So these things aren't about to give up the fight and go home...
Cooper: They are home.
Wells: Yeah, well, that makes perfect sense, don't it? I mean, think about it. We bust into their house, we eat all their porridge, we sleep in their fucking beds. No wonder they're pissed off.
Megan: But they're good people, they're kind people.
Cooper: More's the pity.
Megan: Why?
Cooper: Cos' we're gonna have to kill them all.
Wells: Too right, mate. [smashes the picture with a hammer]

[After planning to trap the werewolves in the barn and burn them, Cooper checks on Wells]
Cooper: You alright?
Wells: Oh yeah, I'm fine, Cooper. I mean, I feel... absolutely fantastic. That's the problem, isn't it, eh? What if she's wrong? What if they're not all in there, eh?
Cooper: Then we get some of 'em. It's a shitload better than none of 'em, and a marked improvement on all of us.
Wells: No no no, you listen to me. You get the fuck out now. I hold 'em back, I keep 'em occupied, and you get out.
Cooper: We've lost enough men for one night, d'ye think?
Wells: Let me show you something. [opens his jacket and removes his bandage, showing his near-disemboweling to have almost fully healed] Now do not tell me that that is fucking normal. What happened to Ryan is happening to me. It's just a matter of time, mate.
Cooper: Stop wasting time with this hari-kari crap. This fight isn't lost yet.
Wells: With Ryan, it only took a couple of hours, mate. It's a full moon. I mean, I don't know, maybe it's like when you need to take a piss or something, I don't know. When you gotta go, you gotta fucking go.
Cooper: Or maybe it's more like needin' a shite. Just cos' you need one doesn't mean you drop your kegs and pinch one off. [Wells chuckles] Anyway, fuck Ryan. Shifty bastard could've been one of those things from the start.
Wells: You know, Coop, there's one more thing you've gotta learn about command, mate: Sometimes the people that you kill... are your own men.

Megan: I'm sorry. When I found you out there tonight, I truly believed you were the best chance I had of getting out. But now we have no chance. There is no out, there never was. I came here to be at one with nature. Well, I got what I wanted... now I have to live with it.
Cooper: There is no house in the next glen.
Megan: No.
Cooper: And there were no werewolves in the barn when it blew.
Megan: Not one.
Cooper: And the reason you're not in the photograph is because you took it.
Megan: I never meant to..
Cooper: [disgusted] New women. Same old shite.
Megan: Being nice to women will get you nowhere, Cooper. Being nice to me will get you killed. You may think they're all bitches but... I'm the real thing. [she starts to transform but she painfully represses it] Do you think I like being part of this fucked-up family? You think I chose to run with the pack? No. I chose you. But now you're out of luck, and I'm out of time, and all we can do is let nature take its course. They were always here. I just unlocked the door. It's that time of the month.
[Werewolves appear behind her, she lifts her face up hissing with her fangs as her eyes glow yellow]
Wells: [shoots Megan in the face] Somebody had to put her out of her misery.


  • Six men. Full moon. No chance.
  • A Bitch of a Werewolf Movie
  • Imagine you're leading a six man squad on a routine army exercise...and it all goes horribly wrong....


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