Original subtitles

(MILITARY TATTOO PLAYS)

(EXPLOSION)

The great Somme Offensive had sputtered to a close

in the last months of 1916.

Patrol's still out, sir.

It was now the new year,

and the north European winter descended on the battlefield,

a battlefield turned into a moonscape by a million shells.

This desolate place marked where 300,000 British soldiers fell

for the gain of a few miles.

The guns were mostly silent now,

except for an occasional burst of hate.

The soldiers' energies were concentrated

on battling those old foes - rain and cold.

Few of us could ever forget the winter of 1916-17.

Also buried here were illusions and false hopes

for a quick end to the war.

Two mighty armies faced each other over a few yards of muddy ground

in a paralysing stalemate.

And while generals in warm chateaux puzzled to find an answer...

...front-line soldiers were united in a common misery.

Old Fritz was just as badly off.

(GUNFIRE)

(TENSE MUSIC)

They could have killed us.

Well, you could have killed them.

Yeah, but I didn't want to.

There aren't many I want to kill, mate.

Don't let the colonel hear you say that.

Stupid!

I was crazy to join up.

Ah, we all were, Roly.

(Voice wavers) I'm not any good at killing people.

Hey! You're good enough, mate.

I hate this war.

I hate the mud, and the lice.

The blokes being wounded and blown apart, killed.

But there's my mates.

The best.

What I mean is that...

...there's times...

...even now...

...when I've been so happy.

I love the war.

I wouldn't have missed it for quids.

And that's got to be wrong, hasn't it, Marty?

MAN: (Chuckles) Mother's boy, hey?

Hey, Barrington?

Mm-hm?

I brought you a new chum. New second lieuy.

(Laughs) Oh, my God. What's up?

He's so clean!

Lieutenant Armstrong's platoon?

That's right.

Take me to him, please.

Be seeing you, digger. Yeah.

Er, this way.

(MARTIAL DRUMMING)

G'day.

Your suggestion, Sergeant? Yes, Mr Armstrong.

I think if we can get through...

What do you reckon I could charge for this, Bill?

BILL: Oh, maybe 30 francs. What's the mark-up?

A new officer, sir.

100%. This is Lieutenant Armstrong.

Second Lieutenant Earnshaw reporting, sir.

Glad to meet you, Mr Earnshaw. This is Sergeant McArthur.

McARTHUR: Glad to have you with us.

First time to the front, Mr Earnshaw?

Yes, sir.

You can forget the 'sir'.

I think you had better show Mr Earnshaw around, Corporal.

And put the head down.

Er, better take a look at the trench maps, sir.

Need any help?

With what? That name. Earnshaw.

He's that joker from Parliament. That windbag politician.

Hey! That's right.

The 'Would To God'er. That's him.

"Now you are going forth to war. Would to God I could go with you."

Yeah. "Only someone's got to stay and run the country.

"Would to God it wasn't me." (Chuckles)

Er, perhaps we should look at the trenches now, sir.

That's my Dad, 'Would To God' Earnshaw.

Did you hear me?

Yes, I did. It's none of my business. Oh, yes, it is.

Talk about me all you like but not about my father, you hear?

And pass the word.

Yeah, I'll do that. Meanwhile, we've got a war going on here.

One moment, Corporal.

Lance Corporal, what's happening? Not a lot.

Let's have a look.

I can see them!

Well, of course you can.

Did you think they weren't there?

(BIRDS TWITTER)

Get back to it.

Who's on this thing?

Huh? What?

Send some bombs over on the trenches in the front.

Now, sir, that's utterly ridiculous. You heard me.

(Yawns) Oh, God.

Fire.

Fire.

(Men exclaim in German)

Look at the enemy, Lance Corporal.

Well?

Up a couple of yards.

We'll give them four. Sir, you don't understand.

The Germans... Four!

And keep a good lookout.

Fire.

Dead on.

Take cover! Look out!

Get down!

What the hell's going on, Flanagan? They want to play it rough, sir.

We'll give them eight. Give them nothing.

Not a bloody thing. What's going on, Mr Earnshaw?

We were instructed at Officer Training to be aggressive, sir.

You were, were you? Yes, sir.

And if the enemy fires, we fire back double.

Was ist denn los? What did he say, Kaiser?

He wants to know what's going on.

Tell him we are very sorry

but we have a new officer that didn't know the rules.

Entschuldigung.

Es tut uns leid, aber wir haben einen neuen Offizier

und er kennt sich noch nicht aus.

This way, Mr Earnshaw.

Now, this is not the Officer's Training School, Mr Earnshaw.

This is the real war!

We and Fritz have an arrangement.

NOBOD Y, Mr Earnshaw, nobody fires before 16:30 hours.

Now, for the past five months,

we have been shot at every hour that God sends.

Now we get shot at by arrangement, Mr Earnshaw.

We rather like it that way. We intend to keep it that way!

Now we can all get some sleep around here, eh?

Sorry, sir.

Yeah, well. It's alright, Mr Earnshaw, you weren't to know.

But just take it easy.

There's a lot of Germans left.

As you were.

He's going to learn the hard way, eh?

Don't worry. He'll get to know the ropes.

(KNOCK AT DOOR)

George? Oh. You're busy.

No, no. Please stay.

You're a most welcome interruption. Not much Christian comfort here.

What do you mean?

Oh, er, just some rather surprising responses

to the letter I wrote to the paper.

Not particularly savoury reading.

Never mind about that.

How have things been with you? Well, we've been in the city.

Rupert doing his war work. Now we're home for a while.

I've missed you, Thea.

I promised myself I wouldn't say that.

What's that?

Er, it's the coward's feather.

I've heard of these but I've never actually seen one.

Oh.

Have you had others?

Yes. 1916 was a good year.

1917 promises to be even better.

Oh, don't joke about it, George.

I wish I could.

I'm front-page news in the Catholic AND the radical journals.

Yes, I've read about it.

"Anglican Priest Speaks Out Against Conscription."

"The voice of reason in a sea of bigotry."

You're quite a celebrity.

The Archbishop calls it notoriety.

You're ruining your career, George. Why?

Because the rest of the Church of England is FOR the war

and I believe that MY church should be

more than just Empire loyalists at prayer.

Because... because I believe in the Sermon on the Mount.

Because...

Because I'm naive, because...

I don't know. George.

Most of all because this second conscription campaign has...

...has divided the country.

It's unleashed the bigotry and the sectarianism

that I thought we left behind us in the Old World.

I mean, what will become of the ideals of the new Australia -

dignity, equality for all?

George.

They've all gone.

What do you see, Pud?

Nothing.

Hmpf! What do you mean, 'nothing'?

They've all gone.

Is it over?

For God's sake, Pudden. Keep your head down!

See anything?

Nup. He's right.

Sergeant, inform battalion I'm sending a patrol out.

Sir.

(DISTANT RUMBLING)

See. I told you there was no-one.

Shut up!

Hang about.

Get back.

Now, don't touch anything, alright?

Thank God Cleary's not here.

Anyone home?

(RATS SQUEAL) Well?

Nup. Nothing but the rats.

Come on, let's get out of here.

Suits me, mate. Come on.

Move!

CLEARY: Two of us and her by herself.

(All laugh)

How did you know it was my birthday?

You told the bloke when you joined up, Pud.

Did I? Yeah.

Don't worry about it. We've got two reasons to celebrate.

First time out of the line for months and your birthday.

Ha. What are going to do?

Ooh! Hey, that's a big surprise.

Yeah, that's sounds alright. MAN: Aussie!

Shh! Hey!

Aussie, here! Quick! Down here.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

FLANAGAN: Hey! MAN: Oh!

HEY!

Ah! AH! Hey. Hey. Hey.

OFFICER: What do we have here then? Nosy parkers?

Mind your own business or you'll get some of the same.

What was he doing, robbing the Bank of England?

I asked the way to the knocking shop.

He tried to gain entrance to a blue light house.

PUDDEN: What's a blue light mean?

Officer's knock shop. Red light's for the troops.

Now, hop it. Quick.

Listen, why don't we take him back to camp with us?

No. We're going to make a few examples of you Australians.

You blokes are going to start a riot.

That'll be enough, laddie, or I'll nick you too.

Now, listen... No mate. No.

No, we don't want any trouble.

I'll go quietly.

Better get them out of sight.

(SNEAKY MUSIC)

Now we're really in for it.

Are you alright, mate? Yeah.

Go, nick off. Keep your head down!

What about us, then?

I reckon we better lay low too. Good idea.

Hey.

Let's not forget what we came for.

Ha, ha. Come on, birthday boy.

(French accent) I'm sorry, you cannot come in here.

Oh, that's a shame. Oh!

Well, perhaps.

Hey, this place is alright.

MADAM: Oh!

Hey Pud. Get this into you, mate.

PUDDEN: Ta.

I think perhaps we can use the private room.

Oh, this stuff tickles your nose, Pat.

MADAM: Mademoiselle Fifi.

Mademoiselle Collette...

...and Mademoiselle Claudine.

Are they all for me, Pat? Yeah. Happy birthday, Pud.

(Chuckles)

(ROMANTIC FRENCH ACCORDION MUSIC)

G'day.

(RUMBLING)

What's up?

FLANAGAN: Jesus!

(FOREBODING MUSIC)

What in heaven's name is that?

It's called the Hindenburg line.

You're right. The Germans didn't retreat.

They withdrew. Yeah.

We'll never take that. Never.

Not fighting the way our generals do.

Bill, my old mate. You should have more confidence.

Of course we'll take it. Tomorrow. Head-on like a bull at a gate.

You're not serious.

I heard the 4th Division will get first go,

and just to make it more exciting

there'll be no artillery barrage beforehand.

You must be joking.

They're going to surprise them.

Just infantry and tanks.

Tanks?

Haven't seen any of them around here.

Anyway, the bloody things haven't worked yet.

Neither have head-on infantry assaults

but that doesn't seem to worry old General Gough.

It's Pozieres all over again.

Oh, no, mate.

Pozieres was just slaughter.

This lot's...

This lot's premeditated murder.

(GUNFIRE AND EXPLOSIONS)

See anything?

The 4th are trying to pull out,

but Fritz has the whole area covered by fire.

Another bloody stuff-up.

Righto. Five minute warning to move.

Get your gear on.

Bloody heads.

Yeah. Too right.

We've been in the line nine months now.

Hey, there's a rumour going round

that the Frogs are telling their officers to nick off.

At gunpoint, if necessary. Shut up, Dingo.

That's not what I had in mind. Yeah?

What DID you have in mind, Corporal?

Nothing.

Come on, man. Out with it. In front of the platoon.

Look, none of us mind the risk.

It's just the stupidity and the bloody waste!

I see.

You may all have your own opinions on the higher direction of this war.

I can't stop that.

But they will not interfere with your duty as soldiers or Australians.

Now, in a few weeks, it will be Anzac Day.

Two years since this battalion stepped ashore

against all odds on Gallipoli.

There's scores of dead mates from this platoon

who thought that worth fighting for.

Mateship.

That's what's held the AIF together throughout this BLOOD Y war.

Now there's 10,000 of our mates in another division

going through bloody hell just over there.

I'll do what I can to help them and, by God, you're coming with me!

Alright, now that that's out of the way,

here's what we're going to do.

We're going out to gather

all the 4th Division wounded we can from no-man's-land.

(GUNFIRE AND EXPLOSIONS INTENSIFY)

Here!

(Men yell) MAN: You'll be right.

ARMSTRONG: Sergeant, up front. Flanagan, cover.

Right!

Can't move? My knee.

MAN: More field dressings over here.

We had it won.

We got in...

...but then, no ammo, no bombs.

MAN: Somebody help me with this man! You'll be right now we're here.

Stretcher!

What are our orders, sir?

The Lewis...

The Lewis gun will...

The Lewis gun will cover our withdrawal.

Tommy. Tommy! Stretcher!

Lhr seid umgeringt. Ergebt euch!

Get nicked!

(Men yell)

(GUNFIRE INTENSIFIES)

It's a bastard of a war...

...but it has its moments, doesn't it?

Oh!

By Jeez, they keep coming, eh? Just like old Johnny Turk.

We'll just keep them out of bombing range. We'll be sweet.

Mac?

MAC!

Look for the others. MAN: We're moving back!

Number two's gone.

Come on, I'll get you back.

Piss off, Flanagan! Mac!

I'll put you on a charge!

You could never make it stick, now come on.

I knew it was going to be today.

Get Bluey out of here while you still can.

Go on. Piss off, you sentimental prick!

Thank Christ you didn't change, McArthur.

Come on, mate.

(McArthur fires machine gun)

Bugger.

Number two's gone west, sir. Bluey's alright, I think.

McArthur's hurt bad. He won't be moved.

I'll take a look.

Kaiser, you're wasting your time.

Stretcher-bearers!

I'm covering you, Kaiser!

(BANG!)

(CONSTANT GUNFIRE AND EXPLOSIONS)

Arggh!

Arggh! Arggh!

Arggh!

Arggh! Get up, Pudden. We're leaving.

No! No! No!

Get up, for the love of God! No! No!

No!

Pudden!

Flanagan, cover Kaiser on the way in.

All accounted for, sir.

Well, Pudden - I haven't seen him.

He's out. I saw him run over that way.

For God's sake, let's go, then!

(ARTILLERY EXPLOSIONS)

Trying to write a recommendation for Tom McArthur.

Words just...

(Sighs) Here, have some of this.

Please.

What's that? (Chuckles)

Black Label at least, if I know Pat.

What would I do without you all?

(Sighs and chuckles) It's the other way round, Harry.

You got us through, minimum casualties.

It's all madness, mate.

Why don't we just pack up and march home?

(Chuckles) That's what I've heard some of the French have done,

but then, they've always prided themselves on their logic.

But it's not an Anglo-Celtic trait.

What, then?

Ah, you said it before - too many dead mates.

Is that sufficient reason to go on killing young Germans just like us?

(Sighs) If you'd asked me that back in 1913 when I was still at uni,

I would have had 10,000 answers.

And now?

None. Oh, come on.

Oh, a faint glimmer of reason, then.

Er, America's now on the same side as Britain and France,

all the great democracies.

Must be something, I suppose.

That's small comfort.

Oh, not to mention the other little ones -

Canada, New Zealand, Australia.

You expect to survive, Martin?

No. Do you?

No.

You know, just before the war,

I won a bursary to take geography at university.

Oh, yeah.

Great initiation here, eh? (Chuckles)

Do you know that Australia is two-thirds desert?

Well, no, the point is that...

...in such an unforgiving country like ours,

we're going to need the very best resilient people.

So?

Well, don't you see?

They're the ones being shot out here.

(REFLECTIVE MUSIC)

(RATS SQUEAK)

I hate the bloody fat ones. I know what they've been eating.

Oh, my God.

Hey, come on, Harry! It's not original.

An American Civil War general said it before.

Still, it can't be all bad.

I mean, that bastard Gough ordered the attack today.

Why, I bet he's having the time of his little life, with ours.

(Chuckles)

Yeah. (Chuckles)

Yep.

Well, here's to...

...that I'm still alive, and to hell with you, Barry.

(Chuckles)

(Sighs)

(Sings) The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling

For you but not for me

(Both sing) Oh, the angels all go sing-a-ling-a-ling

For you but not for me

Oh, death, where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling?

Skipper OK?

Yeah, Doc Barrington's in attendance.

Maybe I should send him a bill. After all, it's my medication.

You mean 'was'.

Oh, mate, they should make you a general.

(Chuckles)

(Sighs) I'm sorry, Thea.

That's alright, George.

I sometimes find myself going through the motions,

and what's the point?

Well, we all feel like that sometimes.

What good's it done to the thousands of mothers who've prayed in vain?

Oh!

The newspaper was filled with the Hindenburg battle.

"Heroic attacks by Canadians and Australians."

After three years, one knows that heroic is just another word for...

...heavy casualties.

That's when my imagination gets hold of me.

Martin wasn't in the last attack.

He's written to you again?

He hardly ever writes to me.

Yes, he has written to me again,

but you wouldn't want to read those letters, Thea.

In them, he... well, he tells the truth about the war.

It's his way of unburdening himself.

How is he?

Oh, he's remarkably stable, considering the circumstances.

Circumstances which, a few years ago,

would have taken an ordinary man to the brink of insanity.

How can they bear it?

They depend upon one another.

They have a fierce brotherhood,

in which each sustains the other.

It's something approaching the Christian ideal.

Ironical, isn't it, that war should produce that?

BILL: "We can't sit here," she said, "because it prickles."

I swear to God, I hadn't gone near her by then.

(All chuckle)

Hello, boys. Stay seated, lads. Just a few announcements.

Oh, crikey, skip.

No, we are not going back on the line, Dingo.

Even the powers that be feel nine months straight is enough.

They have declared leave for the whole battalion - Blighty leave.

ALL: Hooray!

Hooray! Beer and English women, eh?

(All laugh)

Right, lads, promotion list.

Not this time, Paddy.

The colonel has recommended

that Corporal Barrington be commissioned in the field.

Oh, Marty! Oh!

MAN: Good on you, Marty!

Until the commission comes through, you'll be Acting Platoon Sergeant.

Colonel Barrington. Officer Barrington, eh?

Lance Corporal Flanagan will go to Corporal.

Ah, you're slacking off, Flanagan. Ooooh, Flanagan!

Private Schmidt will go to Lance Corporal.

On you, Kaiser. Oooh, Kaiser!

There was another name on the promotions list,

but it was withdrawn at the man's request.

It's a pity. We need all the experienced NCOs we can get.

Lastly, I have the great pleasure and honour

of announcing the award of the Military Medal

to Lance Corporal Schmidt for his work on the Hindenburg line.

(Men cheer) Kaiser Bill, again! (Applauds)

Name out of a hat, that one.

Your mum'll be proud of you, Kaiser.

Sir? It's about Pudden Parsons.

I've a report he's been seen on the old Somme battlefield.

Isn't that where those bludgers...

Where the organised groups of deserters are believed to hang out.

The colonel's agreed if we find him, he'll be charged

with the lesser absence without leave,

not desertion in the face of the enemy.

A month in the jug rather than life?

Exactly, Flanagan. Now, I want you to take a party out and find him.

They say these deserters are a pretty desperate lot,

so you'll go fully armed.

Suits me, sir. I'd love a crack at those mongrel...

Just bring Pudden back as your first priority, Flanagan.

Yes, sir.

Now, report to Company HQ in 30 minutes for details...

...and good luck.

Mr Armstrong, er, what about you, sir?

Oh, yes, I almost forgot.

I've been promoted to Captain, and will take charge of the company.

Good on you, skip! That's the way, sir!

Thanks, Bill. Cheers, lads.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

Wait!

I might have known.

What's the matter - don't you reckon I can handle it?

I just wanted to see the ruthless streak at work.

Keep moving.

(MUSIC REACHES CRESCENDO)

(English accent) That's far enough for the moment,

thank you, gentlemen, unless you'd rather we started shooting.

Who's in charge?

Well, well, the sergeant AND the corporal.

How nice of you to drop in,

but I'm afraid you're a little off course.

The Germans are over that way.

We're a... peaceable lot here, as long as we're left alone.

You've got one of our blokes. We want him back.

Come, come, Corporal, that's no way to speak to a - what am I this week?

A major. High time I was a colonel, don't you think?

High time you were in the jug, you bludger.

You're alive. Try to be more polite, you may stay that way.

Is this the lot of you?

So few.

You have no chance, no chance at all.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

See what I mean?

What's your name?

Flanagan. What's yours?

Edward Kelly.

I see we share a common heritage, but you missed out on the charm.

I missed out on lots of things,

but going back on my word wasn't one of them.

This discussion is becoming tiresome.

Go back to your silly European civil war, for that's all it is.

If they insist on wiping each other out,

it's no business of Australians.

Now, listen, mate...

(Sighs) Surely you can see that peace dictated by Germany

would be a disaster for Australia too.

Well, the sergeant has a voice.

As to the question,

it's highly theoretical, therefore boring.

Oh, and don't appeal to my altruism.

I lost it on the Somme.

Nevertheless, if they win, they wouldn't take kindly to your sort.

We've been studying practical survival.

We're very good at it.

Now, go.

Not without Pudden.

(Cocks gun)

Goodbye.

You'll have to shoot us first.

Even then, we'll take a couple of you with us.

After that, they'll send out the battalion. Things could get messy.

You really care about Pudden, don't you?

He's our mate, and he needs looking after.

Well, ask him.

Come out, Pudden.

Martin?

Your friends - or so they say.

Do you want to go back to them, to the war?

Listen, Mr Kelly, you were real good to me when I wasn't feeling well,

but... I really miss them.

(Sighs) Idealism is the curse of the age.

Here in Europe, that can be lethal.

On your way.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

Come on, mate.

Here, Roly, give us a hand.

I remember an Australian actor named Edward Kelly.

One's public is everywhere.

He used to play English gentlemen roles

Still does, old boy. Still does.

(Grunts) Oh.

Um, they're not borrowed, are they?

No, unfortunately, they're quite, quite genuine.

So, it's official, now? What is?

That you're a gentleman, by act of Parliament.

Thank you very much.

Actually, er, I only did it to gain access to the nurses' mess.

Mm-hm.

Have you heard we're getting Blighty leave?

Yes.

I don't suppose you could arrange some?

No chance.

Damn.

But I'll tell you little secret. Hmm?

I'm going to be in London next week,

on a gas treatment course at St Thomas's hospital.

You won't tell anyone, will you?

(Chuckles)

(NEWSREEL WINDS)

(BELLS RING REPEATEDLY)

(English accent) Remember what I told you.

I haven't forgotten. No ladies.

I promise.

My sister knows you're coming. She'll meet you.

Brighton's nice this time of year, and she's a great cook.

Real home from home for you. Thanks, Bill. I'll never forget it.

You'll be in clover, son.

She's wanted for ages to meet my Australian mates.

I couldn't send her any of this lot.

You're a real mate.

Oh, only thing is is these three little girls of hers,

regular terrors, they were.

I don't mind. I got a kid sister. She doesn't bother me.

Oh, that's alright, then. Off you go and enjoy yourself.

Oh, and remember what I told you -

if you feel the urge coming on, go and paddle in the sea instead.

Don't worry, Bluey, she's got a nice tall friend who's dying to meet you.

See you, Bill. Ow!

(TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWS)

It's the blind leading the dumb.

(lmitates English accent) I'm off to my father's tailor for a uniform.

Oh.

See you, guys. Look after yourselves.

(Chuckles) Bill. See you.

What are you grinning at?

Nothing. It looks like it.

What's up, man? You're on leave. Leave?

Where do I go on leave in London with a name like Wilhelm Schmidt?

Appledore Farm, Chislehurst, Kent -

that's where you go.

Chislehurst? I don't know Chislehurst.

You will when we get there. It's where my mum lives, innit?

Do you think I'd be welcome?

Any mate of mine'll be welcome,

especially one like you that's house-trained, Bill.

Thanks, mate.

MAN: Look at that. MAN: Hmm.

8th Battalion. (Chuckles) Martin Barrington!

Mr Murdoch. How have you been since Gallipoli?

Well, thanks. And how's my gallant brother?

Oh, he's coming over next week.

Here. Thank you.

I didn't know you were a member. My father put me up.

When this war's over, we'll get back to real soldiering.

What's up with those two?

Some people don't like the idea

of officers being promoted from the ranks.

Ah. Well, it works for us, but then, we're getting shot at, aren't we?

What'll it be? Er, scotch and soda.

Make that two, please.

Staff.

Mmm.

Too thick to be anything else.

Alright, let's have it.

(Chuckles) I tend to be rather a bore about it.

You won't bore me.

Very well.

Our men are magnificent, and in my opinion,

our NCOs and junior officers are the best there are.

They have to be...

Thank you.

Go on.

...because time and again,

they're asked to lead their men into one bloody shambles after another,

watch them get blown to bits or blown to bits themselves.

But they keep doing it.

Because they keep doing it, they get the lion's share

of every hair-brain thrust some mad general dreams up

as this week's war-winning battle.

We'd be better off if we lost one. They'd pull us out of the line.

Believe me, Mr Murdoch, you can't break the stalemate in France

by pitting flesh and blood against machine guns,

despite what higher command says,

and no-one's seemed to come up with a better way.

What about morale?

Still good, so far,

but it's not an inexhaustible resource.

I mean, it can't be, not if they keep making us go on like this.

It's getting to the point where we'll end up fighting the staff.

Martin, er...

(Sighs) I'm sorry, you'll have to excuse me.

There's some men I must see.

I'm obliged to you, Martin.

Now, you enjoy your leave, and I'll see you again.

'Bye. Goodbye.

(POIGNANT MUSIC)

(KNOCK AT DOOR)

Come in, Keith. Good evening, Prime Minister.

Good of you to be available at such short notice.

Now, you know Hankey, of course. Mmm.

Er, General Wilson, Liaison with the French Command, Keith Murdoch.

General. Mr Murdoch.

Make yourself at home.

There's strong drink, if the other two haven't disposed of it.

No, thank you, sir.

Well, then, I would like to start these proceedings

with some pleasantries about such things as the weather,

but, er, these days, even the weather has sinister overtones

affecting young men's lives, so I'll come straight to the point.

I would like the Australian Prime Minister to join me

in the War Cabinet as soon as possible.

Can he do it?

Not for some months, I'm afraid, Prime Minister.

He's determined to push the second conscription referendum through.

It won't be an easy task.

Because of your losses on the Western Front?

There are some Australians who are strongly opposed

to conscripts sharing the burden that volunteers have endured.

Responsible opinion hopes he'll be successful in changing minds.

Pity, pity.

Our Commander-ln-Chief is deeply entrenched as a... as...

WILSON: The Germans in the Hindenburg line.

Yes, unfortunately.

Haig wants another offensive?

Another murderous frontal attack, like the Somme last year.

No, it's Ypres, this time, where the Germans MUST fight.

The Germans fight everywhere.

Haig must be stopped.

Another one of his victories, and there will be no young men left.

To be fair,

he has good strategic grounds.

Even old Marshal Foch has said that an offensive at Ypres

would be like a duck's march through a swamp.

But he wouldn't say that today.

The French Army has suffered serious mutinies.

Some 61 divisions refuse to attack.

Their generals are even worse than ours.

So far, it's the best kept secret of the war.

The French are pressing for a British attack, anywhere,

lest the Germans realise

they can win the war at a stroke on the French front.

The Americans are due in any moment, surely.

Oh, the Americans have magnificent raw material,

but they will not be an army for some time.

How long?

8 to 12 months.

My God!

(ELEGANT MUSIC PLAYS)

How do you think I'll go, Marty?

No worries, mate.

(Man announces) Lieutenant and Mrs Barrington.

You...

Well, I just wanted to hear what it...

No, I wanted YOU to hear what it sounded like.

PRIME MINISTER: You see what they do to me, these highly-paid advisers?

Hedge me in with verbiage, constrict my every move.

Meanwhile, in France, sits a man, Haig,

who has enshrined lack of imagination into a creed.

He calls it 'attrition'.

I call it the devil's arithmetic.

Haig still has the confidence of the press lords

and the man in the street, Prime Minister.

AND the Palace.

So, fate and the closed shop of the British upper class

have conspired to hand Haig all the aces.

Will you have me deliver a funeral oration for the entire generation?

If you remove him now, you risk dividing the Cabinet,

and losing the support of the people.

I cannot just stand by while Haig presents another butcher's bill!

There is... one way, Prime Minister.

You could agree to the offensive, but on conditions.

Such as?

That each step of the offensive be a success

before he can go on.

Cancelling his blank cheque.

Yes.

But supposing he continues regardless?

His supplies, his reinforcements, his ammunition

all come from Britain.

And that is under Cabinet control.

Hmm. Good.

Even VERY good, Wilson.

(HOOF BEATS APPROACH)

(Woman sings) When I told them how beautiful you are...

(Laughs)

(Sings) They didn't believe me

(Both sing) They didn't believe me

That from this great big world

You've chosen me...

(Laughs)

Thanks, Bluey. Thanks, Bluey.

Did you have a good leave?

Ah. Oh, that's good.

Hi, fellas. How's your leave, eh?

Get us a beer and a, er, cider, please, love.

Make that a double, boys. I'll be paying.

ALL: Oooh!

You look like a dog with two tails, sir.

He hasn't complained.

I wouldn't dare.

G'day, fellas.

Roly! (Men exclaim surprisedly and laugh)

And these are my cobbers.

I just love it when he says 'cobbers'.

(TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWS)

No good asking if you had a good leave.

Oh, it was the best.

A while since you've seen your sister?

(Clears throat) Oh, this is your Uncle Bill.

Kirsty, Fiona, Lindy.

(CHURCH BELL TOLLS)

MARTIN: That's enough from you two.

Alright, fellas, drink up. Time to go.

Here, where's Pat?

He took an extra day. He met an old friend.

There's trouble. Nothing he can't pay for.

I have to go.

I know.

(ROMANTIC MUSIC)

Take care of yourself.

(Laughs)

Silly thing to say.

I love you.

(RUMBLING, TEA CUP CLINKS)

(Plays relaxed piano music)

(Chuckles)

G'day, Pat. G'day.

Oh. Sorry.

What in God's name have they got to laugh about?

Roly kicked a goal over in Blighty.

Same again, love.

Make her get a move on, Roly,

or I'll tell her about you and my three nieces - Casanova!

Cognac. No, no.

You blokes have had it rough.

Yeah. North of here, 'Wipers'.

The big bloody push.

(Derisively) Ha, ha.

But I heard we were winning.

Not where we was. Sodding General Gough.

You heard of him?

Oh, yes, we have.

Threw us in like lambs to the slaughter, they did.

Our officers did the rest.

Led us head-on against wire and machine guns.

It's my shout.

The blues, Harry?

The old jimjams?

We all get them from time to time, you know.

No, Martin, it's not that.

No premonitions? I've had one or two and nothing happened.

Just dreams.

(Sighs) Lots of dreams.

(THUNDER BOOMS)

A sea of mud, endless battle in the mud.

(THUNDER BOOMS)

Sounds pretty normal, considering the circumstances.

(Chuckles) They say if we didn't dream, we'd all go off our rockers.

For all the good we're doing, we might as well call it off...

...and march on...

...before more of the lads cop it.

What sort of talk's that, mate? We're going to win this one.

When are they sending the Aussies up?

Soon.

You poor bastards.

I know what you're thinking.

We went where we was told - time and time again.

You were looking at 10 platoons. Just 3 of us now.

As for the staff... frigging staff!

Shooting's too good for them. They ought to be crucified!

Now, just a minute, mate... BARRINGTON: Sport...

Most of these diggers went through the Somme.

We can get the drift.

But save the rest for your memoirs, huh?

Anyway, fellas, cheers.

(Pianist plays gentle tune)

(THUNDER RUMBLES)

Not good, Wilson?

No, Prime Minister.

God in heaven!

That makes 80,000 casualties for the first three weeks!

Yes.

And where are we, then? About half a mile from where we started.

Ground was not necessarily Haig's aim.

Destruction of the enemy.

Spare me the more arid reaches of military abstractions.

I am the one who has told the people a hundred times

that we must win this war.

And I'm the one who now must look them in the eye!

"Oh, forgive me, voters and mothers.

"I didn't know that our general had a theory

"that if there were only three Allied soldiers left on their feet

"and one German,

"then - then - we have won the war."

Haig must be stopped now.

I wouldn't if I were you.

All hard-riders are bound to come a cropper before long.

When?

He has a big one planned next week.

And?

I think the results will be the same.

Menin Road.

He's using both ANZAC Corps.

MAN: Oi! This yours?

Bloody hell.

It's Pudden.

Seems to think it belongs to you lot. If it can think.

Yeah, he's ours. You're welcome to him.

Get yourself down, then. From now on, you walk.

(Shouts) Get down, I said! (Howls)

Touch him again like that and I'll break your neck.

What, in front of witnesses?

There won't be any witnesses, pal.

I warned you!

SERGEANT!

MAN: Arseholes. Get out of here.

Help Private Parsons down.

MAN: Supposed to be on our side.

Not like that!

(TENSE MUSIC)

Have you given up saluting?

You're doing a great job, mate.

We'd like to buy you a beer some time.

You right, Pud?

You'll be right, mate.

We'll clean you up. You'll be right.

The big push for 1917

had started nearly two months ago near a place called Ypres.

Whatever the high command lacked, it wasn't guns.

The whole area was devastated.

The offensive had bogged down,

with both the Tommies and Fritz taking a dreadful hiding.

Now it was our turn.

How long till the hop-over? About 20 minutes, Bill.

G'day, Pat.

Pud.

Fire!

Fire!

There were two things going for us, though.

For the first time, the Australian divisions were fighting side by side.

And secondly, we were commanded by an English general named Plumer

who left nothing to chance.

Every move was rehearsed.

It was a welcome change.

Now morale was sky-high,

even amongst the old hands who knew what we were in for.

(NEARB Y EXPLOSIONS)

(WHISTLE BLOWS) Let's go, fellas.

Come on, men.

The action was a complete success.

All objectives taken, and old Fritz was left groggy on the ropes.

Some of us even thought the end might be in sight.

As we found out later, it would've been better if we'd failed.

Your report to the Prime Minister, General.

Read it.

"My dear Prime Minister,

"It gives me great pleasure to inform you of the sweeping success

"of our latest blow struck across the Menin Road."

It gives me even greater pleasure

to imagine the expression on that Welsh conniver's face

when he reads this.

"...justified the hopes"?

He neglects to mention that this is the third bloody attempt!

(Sighs)

Oh, Wilson.

The wealth and blood of Britain are being poured out

over a few bleak acres of Belgium.

(Sighs)

"Our casualties have been relatively light."

(Laughs mirthlessly) Anything under 10,000 is a pinprick to him.

"I therefore propo..." Ah, here it comes.

"...to deliver a series of blows

"towards the ridge at Passchendaele..."

That name has an ominous ring.

"...with the aim of cutting German communications to Belgium

"before winter.

"I know I will have your wholehearted support."

Oh, he does, does he?

Where's that paper from Winston Churchill about a landing in Syria?

I think it's too late for that, sir.

The papers are already hailing an important victory.

Editorial comment is very flattering toward Haig.

Damn. Damn!

They can't replace me now, Kiggell.

No, sir.

The war must be won in the West. It can only be won in the West.

From the Palace, sir. I think you'll like it.

So, counting the 25 reinforcements, the company will be at 80% strength.

We're still short three officers.

Have you heard anything about officer replacements?

Has anyone seen anything of the new lads?

Oh, they're all good blokes, but the training unit in England

is still teaching them techniques we discarded last year.

How long have we got to bring them up to scratch?

A fortnight. Three weeks.

So if it's alright with you, sir,

we'll group them with Sergeant Flanagan.

If anyone can break them in quickly, it's him.

(Sighs) Harry.

Are you alright?

Yes, thank you, Martin. It's just a chill.

Bit of a spell hasn't done you any good at all, has it?

One salute.

One damn salute.

My name is Young. Who might you be?

Harold Armstrong. These are lieutenants...

I didn't expect to find you still here.

The colonel asked me to hand over personally.

Hand over?

What in the hell's going on, Harry?

And who are you, Lieutenant?

Barrington. Ah.

What battalion are you from?

Not a battalion.

The Australian Training Unit on Salisbury Plain.

Training Unit.

Martin, Captain Young is my replacement.

You will accord him all respect.

Damn it, Harry.

You know, after all you've bloody well been through,

they just can't send you away like a...

Piece of worn machinery?

It's a medical decision, Martin. I've been boarded unfit.

Disturbed action of the heart.

YOUNG: DAH.

Erratic heartbeat, high pulse-rate, general debilitation.

It starts in the mind, they tell me.

Listen, I know what DAH is...

Martin, please.

Just accept it. It's final.

They don't know what causes it, and unfortunately, they can't cure it.

Hey, skipper, what's going on?

They reckon they're going to take you away or something.

I'm afraid so, Pat.

FLANAGAN: Is there anything we can do, sir?

I wish to God there was, Flanagan.

You look after yourself. Yes, thank you.

Listen, skipper, as you're leaving, this coat of yours...

Oh, bloody Cleary!

Listen, let's call it quits for the time being, huh?

Come on, fellas. Alright.

Mr Earnshaw. Thank you, sir.

Don't go, Martin.

Captain Young, I'll see you in half an hour.

(Sighs)

Why didn't you tell me, Harry? I didn't have the courage, Martin.

The last thing I wanted to do was to leave them. Or you.

(TENSE MUSIC)

Oh, well. It's for your own good.

No, Martin, it's for the company's good.

There is a very big stunt coming up, and I'd just be in the way.

I'd be a risk to your lives.

The whole bloody battlefield's a danger to our lives.

Martin, I am coming apart at the seams.

Hey! Take it easy, Harry. Take it easy.

(POIGNANT PIANO MUSIC)

(ENGINE RUNS)

(Sighs) You're out of it, Harry.

At last you're out of it.

(MOMENTOUS MUSIC)

Sergeant Major! MAN: Sir!

All at company parade now. Sir.

Discipline.

Discipline, do you hear me?

You not only couldn't spell it,

you obviously have no notion of what the word MEANS!

Look at you!

Well, I will tell you...

...discipline is the thread that binds a military organisation together.

Do I make myself clear?

I'm not impressed by old soldiers

who fumble their way through a few battles.

From now on, we go by the rules, by the book,

which was written by cleverer men than you,

and if not, by the punishment clauses of the Army act.

Do I make myself clear?

He'll get us all killed, Bill.

Until you are fit for me to lead you

into the great battle which is about to commence,

from now on, there will be no Christian names.

Your Toms, Dicks and Harrys

will be Lieutenants, Sergeants and Corporals, as laid down!

The old, sloppy ways departed in a car 10 minutes ago.

DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?

MAN: Oh, go tickle your arse with a feather.

(All stifle laughter)

What did that man say?

What did he say?

He said, "Particularly nasty weather."

Did you say that?

No, I didn't say that. I just said what he said.

Who said it, then?

I don't know. Someone behind me somewhere.

Who gave you permission to speak? You did.

You said, "What did he say?" SILENCE!

I was just trying to say what he said.

Sergeant, charge this man.

What with, sir?

With saying that I... Oh, with insolence, damn it!

Take this rabble and give them two hours close-order drill!

Sir!

(MILITARY DRUMBEATS)

SERGEANT: Company... form to the left.

Left... turn!

On the left!

Quick march. Good one, Pat.

Left, right, left, right. Shoulders back.

(DOOR OPENS)

Kate.

(Sighs happily)

(ROMANTIC MUSIC)

(Clears throat)

(Laughs)

How did you get here all this way?

Oh, I borrowed a motorbike.

Borrowed?

Well, acquired.

Come along, Lieutenant Barrington. Has the cat got your tongue?

Oh, it's Harry. The poor devil's been evacuated...

Been evacuated with DAH.

There's not much happens in the 8th that we don't know.

I mean, he was part of us from the beginning.

To go out this... this rotten way...

It's just as much a casualty of war as a gunshot wound.

Quiet, conscientious man - backbone of the army.

He'll be missed.

Not like some high-flyers I know.

I think an inspection of the wards might be in order.

I didn't come all this way to get... Shh, shh.

Come along, grump. Lead on, Nurse Nightingale.

What about, uh, the other wards?

Every patient that can be moved has been evacuated further back.

So... it's definitely another big one.

Yes.

(Sighs)

Come on, love.

Ah. What's this one used for?

Senior officer casualties.

Generals and the like. (Laughs)

Lt'll never be used, then.

Oh... you never know.

(ROMANTIC MUSIC CONTINUES)

We've got all night.

Mmm. Yes, please.

(Chuckles) All in good time.

(Chuckles) No, not that.

I mean a cigarette.

Smoking?!

Sister Baker, you are a loose, loose woman.

(Chuckles)

Aren't you the lucky one, then? (Laughs)

So how long's this been going on for?

Oh, since you seduced me.

(Laughs) No. The smoking.

Ever since this awful war became bloody awful.

Why? Is the packet marked 'For Men Only'?

(Sighs contentedly)

I wonder what my mother will think

when the next mistress of Hereford Downs lights up a fag.

(MELANCHOLY MUSIC)

(EXPLOSIONS)

All platoons in position, sir. What?

Oh, right.

Wonder they didn't hear us in Berlin with the noise some of them made.

Yeah, it's still thirty minutes to zero...

I know that!

Never liked the idea of jumping off halfway across no-man's-land.

You lose the element of surprise.

What are we doing stuck out here? Simple, dummy.

Huns have got our trenches ranged to within a foot.

This way we survive the counterbarrage, see?

That's really clever, isn't it?

Did Marty think that up?

(EXPLOSION)

What the hell's that? The shells.

I know that, you fool! Ours or theirs?

Keep calm, men. Keep calm.

Runner! Fetch Mr Barrington.

How are you holding, son?

It's just what me dad used to call grand-final nerves, Corporal.

Not long now.

You'll make it.

I've been looking at your boots, Pat. They're pretty good.

Yeah, I had 'em tailor-made.

Listen, mate, when you get knocked, can I have them?

I'll tell you what. They cost me 100 francs.

You give me 20 francs right now and they're yours when I get killed.

Oh, OK.

Bargain.

What if you don't get killed?

Don't be such a bloody pessimist. Of course I'll get killed.

Seems like preparatory fire - German.

Rubbish!

Why doesn't the colonel call this off?

The men can never stick this out.

They'll break!

Break, huh? They bloody well won't.

Old hands will look after the new ones.

Got a new secret weapon.

If he gets near the Hun, he'll talk the buggers to death.

Just lie still, mate.

I need to field dress you.

Me leg - it's still there?

Yeah, no worries, son.

They'll have you back here inside a fortnight.

Keep your head down. Just lay still.

How are the boys?

Alright. But I reckon we've taken about 10% casualty so far, mate.

Bloody hell.

Five, four, three, two, one...

MAN: Fire!

Fire!

Fire! Fire!

You bloody beauty. They got it right again.

Blow the whistle.

I don't think we should blow until we know...

Just blow the bloody whistle!

(Blows whistle)

(UNDERSTATED MUSIC)

Don't shoot! Don't shoot! They're Australians!

Bullshit!

(Soldiers howl in pain)

Danke.

Frau Langer? Ja.

Naturlich.

Danke, Freund.

Ruhe mit Gott.

Tell them to keep going. No! We must get a message back.

There may be other attacks. We'll dig in here.

Captain Young, it's quite clear what's happened.

The Germans by a fluke have attacked the same time as us.

Our barrage is getting away from us. We can't stop here!

NO! I'm in command of this company!

Simply foolhardy to risk any more movement.

Anybody disobeying will be charged with mutiny!

Arggh!

Anyone see that?

See what?

I guess you're it now, mate.

Look after the platoon. Right.

Tim, drag this poor bloke into cover and get his maps and flares.

(Blows whistle)

Company, advance!

Fall in to the right!

Need any help? You can have the reserves.

No, platoon can do it. There's gaps in the wire.

We've got our work on the right. Go! Head down.

Bluey, up to the right, mate. There's a gap in the wire.

Cover when I yell.

Bill? Yes.

There's a gap on the left, mate.

Alright, Roly. Cover them! Go!

Go, Bill!

Go, Blue!

(Yells command)

Fire!

Stick with me, mate. OK.

Cover me! Run hard.

Go, go, GO!

Go!

(Cries out)

Bill! Bluey!

Stay down!

I owe you a beer for that, mate.

Couldn't leave you hanging there.

You haven't paid me for that Luger yet.

Come on, mate. Holding up the war.

Bluey!

Cleary!

Come on!

Come on, raus!

Raus, you bastards, raus!

Kaiser! Casualties.

Jones and Perkins will get back. McGill's a goner.

Detail an escort for this bunch.

BARRINGTON: Flanagan! Check the rear.

Flanagan, you were a bloody marvel - you and the men...

(GUNFIRE)

ROLY: Martin! Stay back!

(Cries out)

KAISER: Easy, Roly, easy.

MAN: Kaiser! Martin!

(SOLEMN MUSIC)

Pud!

Hell.

You mongrel bastard!

(Germans cry out and groan)

I'll shoot the next man who moves.

Kaiser! Sir?

Get them in position. We'll be moving in five minutes.

(Men speak softly)

(Groans)

Jeez! Come on, Roly.

Look after him! He's one of the originals!

You're now Company Commander, Mr Earnshaw.

(Sighs)

That hadn't occurred to me.

Look, the men would rather have you. You're the only officer left.

Come on, Max. The boys will follow you.

Very well.

Sergeant, you are now Second-ln-Command, so...

...appoint new platoon commanders as is necessary.

Right.

(THUNDER RUMBLES)

What are you doing, bludger? Get those prisoners back now!

Move!

You'll keep, Flanagan.

I'll be seeing you.

Say goodbye to your friends, Kaiser.

(Shouts) Up! Come on, you mongrels.

UP! Get up!

(THUNDER ROLLS)

FLANAGAN: You know, I reckon there's a chance of breaking through

if the heads keep going at it.

I don't think so.

Why not? The Germans' old ally has arrived.

General Mud.

This whole area used to be a swamp.

They drained it during the Middle Ages,

but it'll revert back to a swamp as soon as this winter rain sets in.

Oh, Christ.

First bloody time we get the edge on Fritz

and the damn heads throw it away

by having the Battle of the Bloody Bog, eh?

Brains are in their arses, Max.

Sergeant. Good on you, mate.

Your privilege, sir.

Success signal.

Two greens, isn't it? Two greens, Max.

(DISTANT RUMBLE)

(RUSHING ROAR INTENSIFIES)

MAX! (Groans)

Stretcher-bearers!

(SOLEMN MUSIC)

I'm alright.

I must've got some mud in my eyes. I...

...can't see for the moment.

Easy, easy.

Take over command, Sergeant. Sir.

(GRIM MUSIC)

(Screams) Stretcher-bearers!

Well, there's no question of moving him.

No. There'd be little point.

He's coming out of the anaesthetic.

Morphine? It may be kinder.

And who might you be?

Sister Baker, First Australian General Hospital.

You're a long way from home.

A friend?

Yes, sir.

I see.

(POIGNANT MUSIC)

Excuse me, please.

No. No more morphine.

Sister, remember where you are. No more morphine, ma'am.

You must understand, Sister.

Morphine is our only defence against pain.

Withdrawal of that may condemn your friend to a great deal of it.

Yes, sir, but I think that's better

than him falling into a sleep that he won't wake up from.

In some cases, that may be the more merciful course.

(SOLEMN MUSIC)

Let me try, sir. Please.

Very well, you may stay with him.

Doctor, this is highly irregular!

Matron, this whole damn war is highly irregular.

If we have a faint chance of saving one life

by... irregularity,

then we should try.

Thank you, Doctor.

Yes, well.

(SERIOUS MUSIC)

Martin. It's Kate.

Can you hear me?

Martin, I want you to open your eyes and look at me.

(Coughs) Come on, Martin.

Martin, just try and open your eyes the once.

Martin, you must wake up.

Come on, Martin. Wake up!

Martin, wake up. Come on.

Come on, wake up.

(Groans) Wake up.

(GENTLE MUSIC)

And then there was the time

we were bird-nesting up in that big old red gum.

You and Dick had a fight over the honeyeater's eggs.

Dick swung at you like an idiot and fell out of the tree.

Remember that?

Broke his arm. Never even told us about it.

Just walked home as if nothing had happened.

(ANXIOUS MUSIC)

(Sighs)

Martin, I know you can hear me.

Look at me!

(Pants)

Marty, it's me.

(Sobs) Oh, for God's sake, don't slip away from me now, please.

(Whispers) Please!

(GENTLE PIANO MUSIC)

(Wheezes)

Matron.

Come and see this.

(TOUCHING MUSIC)

(BUGLE PLAYS)

(Choir sings) Keep the home fires burning

While your hearts are yearning

Though the lads are far away

They dream of home

There's a silver lining

Through the dark clouds shining

Turn the dark clouds inside out

Till the boys come home.

(DRUMMING AND FIFE MUSIC)