Original subtitles

So, we have Captain Tietjens,

whom the War Office wanted transferred

to the command of the 19th Division's horse lines,

going instead to the trenches to take over as second-in-command

of the 6th Battalion Glamorganshires.

And we have Captain McKechnie,

who detests Tietjens because he considers

the second-in-command of the 6th Battalion Glamorganshires

to be his by right,

going instead to take charge of 19th Division's horse lines,

which he sees, correctly, as a humiliation,

and finally, we have Major Perowne,

last heard of attempting to enter the bedroom of Mrs Tietjens,

allegedly at her invitation,

being sent back to his battalion as a punishment.

And all I can say is

that it takes a Movement Order of some genius

to send these three officers up the line sharing transport.

Odd. Shouldn't we get out of the train while it's stopped?

Why?

The Huns are aiming at the train.

They never hit what they're aiming at.

Think of those two pretty sisters with the tea shop in Poperinghe.

- What about them? - Blown to bits.

The Huns couldn't have been aiming at a tea shop.

Please note, the seal is unbroken.

After the raid, I'll translate your sonnet

into Latin in under three minutes.

I suppose you believe I've not read your sonnet?

You don't perhaps imagine that I've opened it and made a copy?

Yes! No! I don't care.

You can be witness. Latin hexameters in under three minutes.

Teach him to come the sonneteer with me!

He sells his wife to generals for promotion.

You take that back, you swine!

You're speaking of a lady you're not fit to...

Not that it's for me to defend her.

What's this?

- What's this? - McKechnie, control yourself!

Or the first thing I'll do is report you to the MO

and you'll find yourself under the care of the mad-doctors.

Report me to Terence? Terence is my pal.

We're all pals in the battalion.

Best battalion in the line. How we worked at it!

But now I'm banished to a horse-coper's job in Transport.

And poor old Colonel Bill's got you as his number two.

Poor old Bill.

You're no soldier.

Do you think you're an infantryman?

You're a bolster, a big baggy bolster.

Poor battalion, poor bloody old pals.

Oh, God, are we going to die?

Poor old Bill, he sweated for the battalion.

What do you think it's like, Tietjens?

When you stop one? When you know this is it?

Death!

Your faculties are numbed.

You feel no pain.

No apprehension.

Thank you, Tietjens. Thank you.

Now he's got you. Poor old Bill!

Oh, thank God, we're moving.

I can smell bacon!

And snowdrops!

Oh.

Happy birthday, darling!

Oh!

Where did you find the snowdrops?

Oh, I didn't pick them, I'm afraid.

Well, I picked them in Shepherd's Market.

- Thank you for my Valentine card. - Me?

And...

there's a telegram for you.

Someone's remembered your birthday.

It's in Latin.

Must be from Christopher!

"...Octobris."

It's from Edward. Glasgow postmark.

He must be on shore.

That's... That's good, anyway.

"Happy birthday, comrade."

"Let live... Commutatio Octobris."

"Long live the October Revolution."

I suppose he thought it might not get through,

now the Bolsheviks have made peace with Germany.

Is my son a Bolshevik now?

Well, it's enough to make anyone Bolshevik,

sending men and boys to murder each other in millions!

I don't want a birthday if he's lying dead.

He's not dead.

He's in Glasgow.

I meant...

You are surely not in love with Christopher Tietjens?

You mustn't be. He's a married man.

But when he comes home, he will make me his mistress.

Or he won't.

But you wouldn't! And he wouldn't!

You've always thought he was infallible.

He'll keep some of his principles. He... He won't divorce his wife.

I don't care. I...

I've always thought love was a kind of literature.

But every word Christopher Tietjens and I have ever said to each other

was a declaration of love.

Captain Tietjens reporting for duty.

Netting. I'm the adjutant.

The CO's inspecting our trench.

- Hmph! - Aubrey!

The battalion is down to a third of its full strength,

328 at last count.

Call it 75 per company.

Nothing for you to do except wait for the German push.

They send over a few shells before breakfast, after lunch.

There's always a chance they might rush a trench just for the fun of it.

So you've got to keep a sharp lookout.

The RSM will show you around when it's quiet.

Come on, dig, let's go.

Bennett, sir.

Carry on. Carry on.

Here.

Colonel Williams, sir,

Commanding Officer.

What's he doing? Isn't that...

No man's land, sir, and then the hump.

Where the hell is he?

Can't see him, sir.

Have a care, sir, for snipers.

They'd be shooting at the CO.

I'm Captain Tietjens, sir.

Nobody at home, Regimental Sergeant Major.

Girls, slow down.

"The case of Mrs G is not exceptional."

"Her husband was accustomed to pet her and have relations with her frequently"

"but yet he never took any trouble"

"to rouse in her in the necessary preliminary feeling"

- "for mutual union."

"Because she shyly asked him,"

"Mrs G's husband gave her one swift unrepeated kiss upon her bosom."

Come along! Didn't you hear the bell?

Quickly, girls.

You have to report it to the Head. There's no question about that.

- Is it really so terrible? - Yes, it is. It's the vilest...

Exposing young woman's minds to...

- How much of it did you read? - Quite a lot of it.

- Read us some more, Mrs Ferguson. - Buy your own.

Would it be too wicked if Miss Wannop told the Head

that she just found it somewhere, in the pavilion or something?

I've decided. I'm going to put it back.

You will not!

Why not? It's a proper book. It's not trash.

But it's not for children.

I was a suffragist when I was at the age of our senior girls.

I thought that getting the vote for women

was the only thing that would make me happy.

And now we've just got the vote... Well, some of it.

Some of us.

And about time, too!

But it's got nothing to do with happiness.

I've found out that much.

- It's a book for married women. - No, it isn't.

Yes, it is, by George!

It's a book about married love.

Girls want to be married and some of them will be, and soon.

So it's for them, too. And according to Dr Stopes,

most of them will be unhappy out of sheer ignorance,

or their husband's ignorance.

We want them to be happy, don't we?

We do!

Put it back.

I'll answer for it to the Head, if any of you care to sneak.

Good for you, Miss Wannop.

You've just got time.

Don't let them cross the wire!

Keep your fire steady, men!

Aubrey, get down, for God's sake!

Stretcher bearer!

Take the Hun first. He's alive.

Our man's dead.

Damn cool you were, sir!

Damn cool!

Do you think Rupert Brooke was the handsomest man in England?

Do you hear that?

The miners.

I don't.

I think Pamela Chaney's chauffeur was. Hmm.

And God bless Mummy and Daddy and Granny and Granny and Grandpa in heaven

and Aunt Effie and Uncle Arthur and Marchie and everybody.

And God bless me.

Hop in.

And stay in.

Hmm?

Mummy will be up to see you.

She says to bring him down.

Who's she? The cat's mother?

Dressing gown!

Did you hang something from the tree, Evie, so the wood sprites don't get you?

The wood sprites won't catch me.

Oh, give me bombs any day. Bombs are natural.

It has stood for 200 years, it will stay standing

until Michael is master of Groby.

He can decide whether to cut it down or not.

You miss the point exactly.

I want the tree gone before Michael has any say in the matter.

He'll grow up a Tietjens, backward-looking and sentimental.

It's paganism, hanging up their bits and bobs like savages.

The land steward will certainly inform Mark

if you order the cedar to be cut down.

Well, let him. Brother Mark has abdicated from Groby.

He's chosen the life of a London clubman with an actress in the Gray's Inn Road.

And Christopher, for all I know,

will live in sin after the war with his little games mistress.

That's all it is. You want to make Christopher suffer. Poor boy!

Between you and the Germans...

Anyone would think you were his mother, not mine.

I pray even more fervently for you,

- as we are taught to do for all sinners.

That's what I get for keeping myself chaste all these years.

You mean since you bolted?

Potty Perowne deserved me.

I chose the path of charity, as Jesus would have done.

They say he died with a smile on his face.

Potty, I mean.

Well, I'll spare the Groby Tree for the duration.

But if my husband thinks he can throw me over

for that scrub-faced ladies' champion of the regular bowel movement...

He's the only man who perhaps wouldn't.

And he'll go to heaven for it.

You say that because you think of God as an English landowner,

on a colossal scale, who never leaves his study, so is invisible.

Well, if Christopher's not in heaven when the war's over,

he won't be in Gray's Inn,

not with little Miss Hockeysticks on my furniture.

I'll strip the place!

What is it? I said I'll come up!

I'm sorry, madam.

Come on.

For the sake of your soul,

will you go into a retreat for a week or two?

You need to reflect on what to ask of God.

I thought perhaps...

India.

India?

The Commanding Officer of B Company trench, sir.

Sir!

Sir!

Please!

Sir!

Stretcher bearer!

I'll get Colonel Bill over to the MO.

Report to me the first sign of gas.

Two observers in every company.

Everyone else in platoon dug-outs.

- I'm taking over temporary command. - Sir.

Bill!

And Bobbie?

She married quietly abroad.

Oh, so congratulations are due?

- When? - September.

But how lovely for Bobbie.

The only person who comes well out of this is Johnny Pelham

for letting Bobbie divorce him.

I hope you know, Lady Glorvina,

that Bobbie asked me to get Johnny out of the house

when he was being miserable,

and that's all there was to that.

I suppose you told Christopher?

I went to visit Christopher in France two months ago.

They're working him dreadfully hard,

in an enormous camp commanded by General Campion.

If you've come to ask me to do something for Christopher,

I should tell you that Bertram is simply overwhelmed at the War Cabinet.

No, it's the General.

He's like a war-horse in a paddock.

He simply can't be allowed to end his career like that.

He can, and he probably will.

That's pillow talk, mind you.

Sylvia, excuse me.

Oh, no, please stay if you can, Bertram.

Stay at your peril.

Sylvia has a bit between her teeth.

...Well, if I can have a drink...

For a few minutes.

- I'm concerned for Edward. - Campion?

Hmm. Why has he got a glorified quartermaster's job

fitting out troops for General Perry's command?

Because it's a vital job and Campion does it superbly.

But General Perry's command is the only fighting command

that might become free.

He's taken to getting his friends to write to The Times

about being starved of troops.

Edward Campion should have the sort of job

which brings a hero's welcome and a peerage at the end of it.

And from that, who knows?

Perhaps India.

India?

- Viceroy of India? - Why not?

The General served with great distinction in India.

Actually, that's well said.

And I must leave you.

I'm so glad things are settled with Bobbie.

Thank you, my dear.

A carpet seller's son from Turkey or somewhere

with the beastliest newspapers in London as a son-in-law...

- is a turn of events.

Just the man to put the public behind General Campion.

How long is your leave?

It isn't leave.

I ordered myself home to be at the War Office first thing in the morning

to ask whether anyone there understands that if they don't do something about it

there'll be nothing behind us but the sea.

I'll probably be relieved of my command,

but then there's not much career left for a man of 60

unless he's given a fighting army.

We'll see. Can you come to Groby for the weekend?

Oh, it'll be very quiet, just Bobbie and her new husband.

You don't know Lord Beichen, the Press Lord.

I might do that. I'd love to see Groby.

- How's Christopher? - Don't you see him?

Uh, no. He's at the Front now.

I had no choice, after...

Of course you didn't.

A chance of glory, then?

Absolutely. A chance of glory.

Lucky beggar.

...Oh!

There ain't no beastly snipers, is there, sir?

A skylark nearly walked into my mouth.

There's been a skylark singing on the morning

of every strafe I've ever been in.

Wonderful trust in humanity, sir.

Wonderful instinct in the feathered breast by the Almighty,

for who is going to hit a skylark on a battlefield?

I don't know about the Almighty.

It's all one to a skylark, whether it's high explosive or a lough.

Thirteen minutes, if the barrage is punctual.

They're a good lot of chaps, sir.

The best.

Give 'em the right sort of officers, they'll beat the world!

They know what they're doing.

Don't think it matters too much who gives the order.

No, sir.

They've been frightened these last few days.

They're better now.

What the devil is that row?

0 Nine Griffiths, sir.

Captain McKechnie promised to hear him after breakfast

and recommend him to play in the Divisional Follies.

Captain McKechnie is with us again?

- Carry on. - Yes, sir.

Carry on.

Come past the next traverse, sir. I want to speak with you.

The strafe is due in seven minutes.

You'll have to put a tin hat on if you're staying here.

How dare you give me orders!

It wouldn't look well with the Divisional Transport Officer

dead in my lines in a parade hat.

The Transport Officer has the right to consult the CO

of the battalion he's supplying.

I'm commanding here. You haven't consulted me.

This is what it's come to with the old battalion?

The bloody, bloody old battalion of pals!

What are you going to do about Bill?

The MO has authority to send the Colonel

on sick leave for a couple of months.

I know what you're up to.

If you got poor Bill cashiered, they'd put in another pukka colonel,

but if you send him sick you're pretty certain

to get the command as a stop-gap.

Captain McKechnie, you can fall out!

Return to duty. Your own duty.

In a proper head-dress.

Oh, well, I suppose if you're in command.

It's usual to say sir when addressing a senior officer on parade.

You're attached to Divisional Headquarters.

- Get back there now! At once! - Sir!

- Sir...

I haven't forgotten about your sonnet, sir.

Please note, the seal is unbroken.

Orderly Room says would you look through these, sir?

So the Petrarchan sonnet is different to the Shakespearean sonnet, sir?

Of course. A final couplet after three quatrains

would be an abomination in the Italian sonnet.

Captain McKechnie, are you still here?

I'll tell the cornet to report to you tomorrow for the entertainment.

His name is Griffiths. Find him for me, Corporal.

Yes, sir.

By the way,

General Campion is to take over this Army the day after tomorrow.

We got word at Division HQ.

So Campion is back?

That means the French have single command.

It means we'll get reinforcements.

Captain McKechnie told me

that you wrote a sonnet in two and a half minutes, sir.

It's just a trick.

# There was a lady...

# Fair and kind #

Miss Wannop.

Mr Tietjens.

How's your flame in the...

linen shop, Lieutenant Aranjuez?

Nanette?

It's... It's Minette, sir.

If I stop one, sir, will you tell Minette that...

Little nippers like you don't stop things.

Besides, the wind's on our backs. They won't set off without gas.

I remember that Hun in our trench who got shot in both eyes.

Your girl naturally won't look at you if you let her down, sir,

by losing your beauty.

# I did see her

# Passing by

# And yet I'll love her

# Till I die #

Yes, well...

Griffiths, you and your cornet

are to report to Divisional HQ tomorrow night.

For the entertainment.

- Think you can hold a tune by then? - Yes, sir.

Very good.

Fall out, then.

Right on time.

I don't want to leave my battalion

to a man that would knock it about while I'm on sick leave.

I won't let discipline go to ruin, sir, if that's what you mean.

...I should go.

Netting will tell us if anything's wanted.

I suppose I could get rid of you with a bad report.

Or perhaps I couldn't.

They say you're Campion's bastard.

I'm his godson.

I'm not going to bring a general on my back.

...No, stop where you are.

This isn't the strafe.

This is only a little extra Morning Hate.

You can tell by the noise.

That's 4.2s.

The really heavies don't come so fast.

They'll be turning on the Woosters now

and only give us one every half-minute.

That's their game.

If you don't know that, what are you doing here?

You hear?

So you think you can command this battalion?

I'm not in a condition to do it myself.

The men appear to like you.

They're tired of me.

Well...

Take the battalion with my blessing.

Brigade want to know if we're suffering any.

Well, we aren't suffering any, are we?

No, not in particular.

A shell in the entrance of C Company dug-out, one man dead.

This officer is taking over from me.

Oh, tell Brigade we're all as happy as sand-boys.

You may as well make a cheerful impression to begin with.

They knocked, sir, but they didn't come in!

They may oblige us tomorrow.

You'll have to get your trench restored by morning.

Just make sure the men keep their heads down.

Yes, sir.

You three, over here!

Go and tell B Company that I'll come and take a look at them,

say 10 minutes. Keep blindside of that mound as you go.

Sir.

Go ask A Company for the favour of a sandwich

and a coffee with some rum in it.

Sir.

Let's have a look at this, then.

Sir.

Thank you, Corporal.

Mmm.

- Did you get a bite to eat, Corporal? - Yes, sir.

Half a tin of warm mutton and haricot beans

while I was cutting the sandwiches.

Hmm.

Middlesbrough?

Nearly right, sir. Me mother is Middlesbrough.

I'm from Batley.

- Good grief. - That's right, sir.

I've walked to Groby of a Sunday afternoon many a time.

My father goes down Batley pit.

Oh.

I'd sometimes hear the picks at night,

in my grandfather's time and my father's.

Chip, chip.

It came back to me the other night.

I thought it was the Germans mining.

Me sister had a comb hanging from the Groby tree.

They say the old cedar will have to come down one of these days soon.

Do they, by God.

I'll prop up the house if I have to!

I'll help you, sir!

- It wouldn't be Groby.

I'll remember your sandwiches so long as I live.

Thank you.

Those German shells seem to be coming back.

My compliments to the RSM,

and would he get his fatigue party under cover as soon as they get close?

Right, sir.

So that no toast less noble may be drunk from it!

Then there must be someone you love, sir!

Is she like Minette?

Not exactly like her, but I'm sure with Minette's best qualities.

Then you'll get her, sir!

You'll certainly get her.

Yes. Yes, I probably shall.

That's enough time for B Company to get themselves tidied up.

The Germans did over their trench

like a dog we once had would do over a drawing-room.

Stand to!

Don't leave your shovels about to get in the way when the attack comes.

Yes, sir. Sorry, sir!

Corporal!

- Sergeant! Stretcher bearer!

Stretcher bearer!

You! You're disgustingly filthy!

I suppose you have an explanation?

Where the devil is the commanding officer of this battalion?

I am in command, sir.

I was mad when I sent you out here. I shall send you back.

You can fall out.

Gerald. Don't pretend you haven't seen me.

Sylvia. No, I...

I've quite got over you, you know.

Well, that's love, I suppose.

No, I mean hating you. I got over loving you years ago.

You haven't changed at all.

I'm here with a ghastly set.

Would you like to take me on somewhere?

You always were such a brute.

Oh, don't think I'm complaining.

If I told you how long since, you wouldn't believe me.

I'm sure I'm safe, but...

So why?

My husband may not be returning to me after the war's over.

I don't see why I shouldn't get something

out of people taking me for a whore.

I didn't know you hated me.

Why ever not?

Funking a divorce and leaving me to hold the baby?

But Michael's growing up into a Tietjens,

so it may have been a panic over nothing.

Hmm.

How does one know?

Tietjens turned out all right.

He was up for a decoration

but General Campion told him

there were only a certain number of medals to go around

and no doubt Tietjens would prefer it to be given

to someone who would get more advantage from it.

Good Lord, you didn't know.

Wounded saving life under fire, months ago.

How typical. He never tells me anything.

Why aren't you in France, by the way?

Too valuable. I've been in Washington.

American troops are coming over in force now,

which means the war is over.

Really over?

By Guy Fawkes Day, I'd say.

Really? So Christopher will be coming home.

Will you come back to bed?

No.

I can't go through all that again.

Penny for the Guy.

Penny for the Guy?

Penny for the Guy.

Thank you.

I saw your note too late.

But you came in time.

The doctors can't be sure how long I have left.

Hold my hand, darling.

Your note about the tree.

Oh, the tree.

Well, I tried to warn you.

Where were you all this time?

Your brother fixed your release from the army weeks ago.

You should have been here to take charge of the estate!

And if you won't, needs must,

and...

let the chips fall where they may.

Couldn't you tear yourself away from your mistress?

I was in hospital.

Goodbye, Sylvia.

Oh!

Safe!

Safe, forever.

Oh!

Oh, no more torpedoes.

Edith!

When I think of the millions that died

and that imbecile Tietjens strolling home without a scratch!

Guggums!

I was absolutely counting on the Germans.

- Guggums! - Supposing he calls in his loans.

It would be our ruination.

Tietjens, impossible as it may be for you to understand...

Then don't try to make me!

You sponged off him for thousands and now he's got you by...

By what you singularly lack.

Since the wife has chosen to reject

the hand of friendship I extended to that harlot,

it's time to bring the mistress back into the fold.

Edward! Oh!

Is that you, Valentine?

It's Lady Macmaster here.

Edith!

Edith said he has no furniture.

He appeared to be a bit mad.

He's alone.

- He asked about me. - But he didn't ask for you.

Darling,

Christopher wouldn't ruin you amongst your own people,

not if you begged to be ruined, Valentine!

I'd ruin myself gladly to make him happy for an hour.

Oh, I've waited and waited.

I cannot...

I will not renounce the schooling of my whole life.

But this is mine.

Miss Wannop.

- Did you send for me? - No.

But I am glad you came.

I heard you were ill.

Not too bad, all things considered.

- What is that? - I'm taking it to Mark.

You can come with me.

How dare you bring Miss Wannop here?

Are you and Sylvia divorcing?

- No. - What the hell is that?

Sylvia had the tree felled.

I know.

She asked me. I don't give a damn about the tree.

Now, perhaps God will change sides.

I will not divorce the mother of my child

and Sylvia will not divorce me.

I don't care.

I have to bathe and change into my uniform.

If my friends arrive,

you might entertain them.

Darling.

I'm awfully sorry,

rotten timing for you...both.

I came to tell you that they're going to operate on me

tomorrow for a cancer and...

Liar!

You haven't got a cancer! You're lying!

Well, really!

This is what you do, isn't it?

What can you mean?

Do you know what she means?

Miss Wannop means

pulling the strings of the shower bath.

Oh, Christopher.

Christopher...

you can't mean it.

Look at her!

Is she a Girl Guide or something?

Perhaps you do mean it.

Well...

I wish you both nothing but happiness.

Please remember me to your charming mother.

I must see that fellow Tietjens. It's an urgent matter about a sonnet.

Oh, but it's not necessary to shout.

Please, come in.

I'm Captain McKechnie,

formerly second-in-command of the 6th Glamorganshires.

The Pals!

...Excuse me.

Good evening.

- Hello. - It's my CO.

Good old Colonel Bill, you brought the hooch!

McKechnie! I thought I'd got rid of you!

Oh, hello.

- The Pals! - Good Old McKechnie!

You're the Captain's dear friend. He saved my life.

Wasn't it splendid of Minette to marry me like this?

We shall all be such friends.

Hello!

- Aubrey! - It's our only VC.

- Music man! - Get yourself over here.

They say you're receiving for Tietjens.

Well, he seems to have been sold up!

He's a good fat old beggar, old Tietjens,

a good officer, one of the best.

Here he is!

Good old fat man!

Here he is. Here he is!

Good old Tietjens!

Miss Wannop looking after you?

Bit chilly in here.

Want a fire?

# Mademoiselle from Armentieres Parlez-vous

# Mademoiselle from Armentieres How do you do

# Mademoiselle from Armentieres What a surprise to find you here

# Tell me what to do with you... #

Latin hexameters in under three minutes.

Whenever you're ready.

# How do you do

# Mademoiselle from Armentieres What a surprise to find you here

# Tell me what to do with you

Come on, lads!

# Mademoiselle from Armentieres Parlez-vous... #

If I divorce Christopher, will you marry me?

Battalion! Slope arms.

There will be no more parades.

Battalion, dismiss!