♪ ♪
(birds chirping)
(footsteps approaching)
SANDERS: Blake.
Sorry, Sarge.
Pick a man.
Bring your kit.
Yes, Sarge.
(sighs)
(grunts softly)
SANDERS: Don't dawdle.
No, Sarge.
Did they feed us?
No. Just mail.
(bell clangs)
MAN (in distance): Time for some tea!
-(bell clangs) -Tea's up!
(chuckles softly)
Myrtle's having puppies.
You get anything?
No.
Oh, I'm bloody starving. Aren't you?
Thought we might get some decent grub out here.
It was the only reason I decided against the priesthood.
What you got there?
Ham and bread.
Where did you find that?
I have my uses.
-(bell clangs) -Here.
(bell clangs)
Ugh.
Tastes like old shoe.
Cheer up.
This time next week, it'll be chicken dinner.
Not me.
My leave got canceled.
They say why?
No idea.
It's easier not to go back at all.
(men shouting orders in distance)
MAN: Coming through.
(men continue shouting orders in distance)
Something's up.
-Did you hear anything? -No.
Has to be the push, right?
Ten bob says we're going up.
I'm not taking that bet.
Why? 'Cause you know I'm right?
No. Because you haven't got ten bob.
(chuckles)
In your own time, gentlemen.
BLAKE: Is there any news, Sarge?
-SANDERS: News of what? -BLAKE: The big push.
It was supposed to happen weeks ago.
They told us we'd be home by Christmas.
SANDERS: Yes, well, sorry to disrupt your crowded schedule,
Blake, but the brass hats didn't fancy it in the snow.
BLAKE: More's the pity, Sarge.
I could've done with some turkey.
SANDERS: Well, I'll make sure
to relay your displeasure to command.
SCHOFIELD: So what's on the cards, then, Sergeant?
SANDERS: The Hun are up to something.
SCHOFIELD: Any idea what?
SANDERS: No. But it's about to ruin our weekend.
Now, listen.
Erinmore is inside, so tidy yourselves up.
Never know.
Might be mentions in dispatches for this one.
If you don't bugger it up.
Must be something big if the general's here.
Lance Corporals Blake and Schofield, sir.
Which one of you is Blake?
BLAKE: Sir.
You have a brother, a lieutenant in the 2nd Devons?
Yes, sir.
-Joseph Blake. Is he... -Alive.
As far as I know.
And with your help, I'd like to keep it that way.
Sanders tells me you're good with maps.
That true?
Good enough, sir.
So...
we are here.
The 2nd Devons are advancing here.
How long will it take you to get there?
♪ ♪
I don't understand, sir.
SCHOFIELD: Sir, that land is held by the Germans.
Germans have gone.
Don't get your hopes up.
It appears to be a strategic withdrawal.
They seem to have created a new line,
nine miles back here by the looks of it.
Colonel Mackenzie is in command of the 2nd.
He sent word yesterday morning
he was going after the retreating Germans.
He is convinced he has them on the run.
That if he can break their lines now,
he will turn the tide.
He is wrong.
Colonel Mackenzie has not seen these aerials
of the enemy's new line.
Come around here, gentlemen.
Three miles deep, field fortifications, defenses,
artillery the like of which we've never seen before.
The 2nd are due to attack the line
shortly after dawn tomorrow.
They have no idea what they're in for.
And we can't warn them.
As a parting gift, the enemy cut all our telephone lines.
Your orders are to get to the 2nd at Croisilles Wood,
one mile southeast of the town of Écoust.
Deliver this to Colonel Mackenzie.
It is a direct order to call off tomorrow morning's attack.
If you don't, it will be a massacre.
We will lose two battalions--
1,600 men, your brother among them.
You think you can get there in time?
Yes, sir.
Any questions?
-No, sir. -Good.
Over to you, Lieutenant.
GORDON: Supplies, gentlemen.
Map, torches, grenades, and, uh, a couple of little treats.
Leave immediately.
Take this trench west up on Sauchiehall Street,
then northwest on Paradise Alley at the front.
Continue along the front line until you find the Yorks.
Give this note to Major Stevenson.
He's holding the line at the shortest span of no-man's-land.
You'll cross there.
It'll be daylight, sir. They'll see us.
ERINMORE: There's no need to be concerned.
You should meet no resistance.
Sir, is... is it just us?
"Down to Gehenna or up to the Throne,
He travels the fastest who travels alone."
Wouldn't you say, Lieutenant?
GORDON: Yes, sir, I would.
Good luck.
Blake, let's talk about this for a minute.
Why?
(sighs)
♪ ♪
(men chattering quietly)
Blake.
We just need to think about it.
BLAKE: There's nothing to think about.
It's my big brother.
SCHOFIELD: We should at least wait until it's dark.
BLAKE: Erinmore said to leave immediately.
SCHOFIELD: Erinmore's never seen no-man's-land.
We won't make it ten yards.
-If we just wait... -BLAKE: You heard him.
He said the Boche have gone.
SCHOFIELD: Is that why he gave us grenades?
(busy chatter)
-Oy. -(grunts, exhales sharply)
-(grunts) -MAN: Watch where you're going.
SCHOFIELD: Sorry.
(panting)
(exhales sharply)
All I'm saying is that we wait.
Yes, you would say that, 'cause it's not your brother, is it?
Look, the last time I was told the Germans were gone,
it didn't end well.
You don't know, Blake. You weren't there.
-Excuse me. Excuse me. -(busy chatter)
Excuse me.
You're going up the down trench, you bloody idiot.
Orders of the general, sir.
(grunts)
All right. Say the Boche have gone.
Nine miles will take us, what, six hours?
Eight at the very most.
So we've got time to wait until the sun sets.
-It's enemy territory. -Otherwise, we'll be wide open.
We've got no idea what we're walking into.
Blake, if we're not clever about this,
no one will get to your brother.
I will.
We're here. This is the front line.
Now we need to find the Yorks.
♪ ♪
(men chattering quietly)
♪ ♪
-BLAKE: Sorry, mate. -MAN: Jesus!
STOKES: Watch who you're shoving.
BLAKE: All right, get out of the way, then.
STOKES: Hey, who the fuck do you think you are,
pushing wounded soldiers around?!
BLAKE: Let go! Let go of me!
Arsehole knocked down our sergeant!
The man's fucking wounded!
All right, I'm sorry. All right? I'm sorry!
-We're on commission. -Just let me through.
-Orders from the general. -Just let me through. (panting)
Get out of the way.
Fine.
Just watch where you're going.
(panting)
(sighs): Yorks.
(dog barks in distance)
It's bloody quiet.
Was it like this before Thiepval?
Don't remember.
You don't remember the Somme?
-Not really. -MAN: Hey, mind us.
Come on.
Well, you did all right out of it.
At least wear your ribbon.
Don't have it anymore.
What? You lost your medal?
MAN: Heads down, boys.
MAN: Come on, lads. Keep digging.
Stay low.
For God's sake. Careful there.
You're stepping on the dead.
That's our sergeant.
Be better washing them out of this dugout with a bloody hose.
Do you know where the Yorks are?
The next bend,
you'll be standing on top of half of them.
Shot to hell two nights ago.
(panting)
-SCHOFIELD: Yorks? -Yes, Corp.
BLAKE: Where's Major Stevenson?
He was killed, couple of nights ago, Corporal.
Lieutenant Leslie has command.
Where can we find him?
Next dugout.
(crows cawing)
Here.
BLAKE: Sir?
-Lieutenant Leslie, sir? -What is it?
We have a message from General Erinmore.
-Are you our relief? -No, sir.
Well, when the fucking hell are they due?
We don't know, sir, but we've got orders to cross here.
That is the German front line.
We know, sir.
If you'll just take the letter.
Settle a bet. What day is it?
-Friday. -Friday. Well, well, well.
None of us was right.
This idiot thought it was Tuesday.
-MAN: Sorry, sir. -(man coughs)
Are they out of their fucking minds?
One slow night, the brass think the Hun have just gone home.
SCHOFIELD: Do you think they're wrong, sir?
We lost an officer and three men two nights ago.
They were shot to bits patching up wire.
We dragged two of them back here. Needn't bothered.
Sir, the general is sure the enemy have withdrawn.
There are aerials of the new line that...
Shut up. We fought and died
over every inch of this fucking place.
Now they suddenly give us miles?
It's a trap.
But chin up. There's a medal in it, for sure.
Nothing like a scrap of ribbon to cheer up a widow.
All right. (clears throat)
(man coughing)
Where's the nearest way through, sir?
Our wire's a mess, but there is a path through of sorts.
Rushworth, let him look.
(crows cawing)
Straight ahead to the left, past the dead horses.
There's a gap directly behind them.
Useful, because if it's dark, you follow the stench.
When you get to the second wire,
look out for the bowing chap.
There's a small break just beside him.
The German line is 150-odd yards after that.
Watch out for the craters; they're deeper than they look.
You fall in, there's no getting out.
This way.
Wake up, Kilgour.
Bloody waste of space.
Any cover, sir? Anywhere to jump off from?
No, the sap trench was blown to hell weeks ago.
It was full of bodies anyway.
Your best bet is to pop over here.
If you do get shot, try to make it back to the wire.
We won't come after you, not till it's dark.
And if by some fucking miracle you do make it,
send up a flare.
Don't have any, sir.
Well, get him one, Kilgour. Make yourself useful.
Yes, sir.
(Blake grunts quietly)
Through this holy unction,
may the Lord pardon you your faults
and whatever sins thou has committed.
I do hate losing these to the Hun,
so when they start shooting at you,
could you be so kind as to throw it back?
There's a good chap.
Cheerio.
(Blake grunting quietly)
You sure?
Yes.
Age before beauty.
♪ ♪
(flies buzzing)
(flies continue buzzing)
♪ ♪
(metal creaking)
(grunts)
(panting)
You all right?
Look for cover.
(grunts)
(panting)
Sap trench.
(panting)
(both grunt)
(footsteps splashing)
(grunting)
♪ ♪
(planes approaching)
Stay still.
(plane engines roaring)
They're ours.
Keep going. We're halfway.
♪ ♪
(crows cawing)
(crows cawing in distance)
BLAKE: There's a gap, in the wire.
(grunts)
♪ ♪
(grunts)
(panting)
Sco.
(grunts)
There. That's the front line.
♪ ♪
(both panting)
Fuck me.
They really have gone.
Your hand all right?
Put it through an effing German.
Patch it up.
You'll be wanking again in no time.
Wrong hand.
(birds calling in distance)
(sizzling)
They're not long gone.
♪ ♪
SCHOFIELD: No good.
Blocked.
This might be a way through.
(switches click)
Jesus.
Look at this.
It's massive.
They built all this.
♪ ♪
Here's our way through.
BLAKE: Sco.
How about this?
-(springs creaking) -(chuckles)
Bloody hell.
Even their rats are bigger than ours.
What do you think's in the bags?
SCHOFIELD: You cannot be that hungry.
BLAKE: Look at him, cocky little bastard.
You could eat this, though.
-What is it? -Boche dog meat.
BLAKE: What's in the other boxes?
-What's wrong? -Trip wire.
Don't move.
Where is it?
Goes from here to the door.
Oh, Jesus!
BLAKE: Oh, no.
(coughing)
Sco!
(coughing)
(Schofield groaning, muffled)
-(low rumbling) -(wood creaking)
-Sco? -(Schofield grunts, muffled)
-(wood crackling) -(low rumbling continues)
Sco!
(muffled grunting)
Sco! Sco.
-(grunting) -(wood creaking)
Sco! Sco.
(Blake panting)
(sobs): Sco.
Sco! Wake up!
Wake up!
(Blake grunting)
Sco! Sco!
(coughing)
-(gasping) -Stand up! Stand up!
-(coughing, gasping) -Come on. Stand up!
-Up! Up! Up! -(grunting)
-Come on! -(panting)
-Stand up! -(coughing)
(rumbling grows louder)
The whole thing's coming down!
-(coughing) -Come on.
(panting)
(grunting)
You keep hold of me!
(coughs)
(grunting)
(rumbling continues)
We need to keep moving!
Come on!
I can't see. I can't see!
-(metal object falling) -Oh! Stop, stop, stop, stop!
Stop!
It's a mine shaft!
Right, we'll have to jump.
Come on!
(grunts)
You're going to have to jump.
-Just jump! -I can't.
-I can't see! -You need to trust me.
-Jump! -(grunts)
(both grunting, panting)
(rumbling continues)
Don't let go of me! Don't let go!
Light. There's light.
(rumbling continues)
(grunting)
SCHOFIELD: Stop. Stop.
Just let me stand.
(coughing)
-(groans) -Dirty bastards!
-(rumbling fades) -(coughing)
Careful. They may have left other traps.
(Schofield grunting)
♪ ♪
Jesus.
(both panting)
(canteen opens)
Dust.
So much dust in my eyes.
(grunts)
(panting sharply)
(grunts)
(sighs)
Here.
Have some of mine.
I wish I'd shot that rat now.
I wish you picked some other bloody idiot.
-What? -Why in God's name did you have to choose me?
Well, I didn't know what I was picking you for.
No, you didn't.
You never know. That's your problem.
All right, then, go back.
Nothing's stopping you.
-You can go all the way bloody home if you want. -Don't.
Just don't.
I-I didn't know what I was picking you for.
I thought they were going to send us back up the line
or for food or something.
I thought it was going to be something easy.
All right?
I never thought it would be this.
So do you want to go back?
Just fire the fucking flare.
Up yours, Lieutenant.
(flare pops, sizzles)
(grunts)
Do you know where we are?
Écoust is directly southeast.
And if we keep that bearing, we should make it.
Come on, then.
♪ ♪
(stifled coughing)
Look at that.
They destroyed their own guns.
SCHOFIELD: They destroyed their own trenches, too.
What do you mean?
I think they wanted us to go that way.
They wanted to bury us.
You bastard rats.
(coughs, sniffs)
Hey.
Did you hear that story about Wilko?
-How he lost his ear. -I'm not in the mood.
Keep your eyes on the trees.
Top of the ridge.
Bet he told you it was shrapnel.
What was it, then?
Well, you know his girl's a hairdresser, right?
And he was moaning about the lack of bathing facilities
when he wrote to her.
Remember those rancid jakes at Arras?
Yeah.
Anyway, she sends him over this hair oil.
Smells sweet. Like Golden Syrup.
Wilko loves the smell,
but he doesn't want to cart it around in his pack.
So he slathers it all over his barnet, goes to sleep.
And in the middle of the night, he wakes up,
and a rat is sitting on his shoulder,
-licking the oil off his head. -(chuckles)
-Wilko panics, and he jumps up. -(laughing)
And when he does, the rat bites clean through his fucking ear
-and runs off with it. -(laughs): No.
Oh, he made a hell of a fuss--
yelling, screaming.
The best of it was he put so much bloody oil on himself
that he couldn't wash it off.
He was like a magnet.
The rats left us alone,
but they couldn't get enough of him. (chuckles)
Poor bastard.
(plane engines buzzing)
Heading back home.
I wonder what they saw.
Watch the ridgelines.
Well, that's your medal sorted, then.
What do you mean?
"Lance Corporal Blake showed unusual valor
rescuing a comrade from certain death."
Blah, blah, blah.
You reckon?
I do.
Well, that'd be nice.
Since you lost yours.
I didn't lose mine.
What happened to it, then?
-Why do you care? -Why do you not?
I swapped it with a French captain.
-Swapped it? -Mm-hmm.
For what?
Bottle of wine.
Well, what did you do that for?
I was thirsty.
What a waste.
You should've taken it home with you.
You should've given it to your family.
Men have died for that.
If I got a medal, I'd take it back home.
Why didn't you just take it home?
Look, it's just a bit of bloody tin.
It doesn't make you special.
Doesn't make any difference to anyone.
Yes, it does.
And it's not just a bit of tin.
-It's got a ribbon on it. -(chuckles)
I hated going home.
I hated it.
When I knew I couldn't stay,
when I knew I had to leave and they might never see...
♪ ♪
(sighs)
(birds chirping)
Jesus.
They chopped them all down.
Cherries.
Lamberts.
They might be dukes.
Hard to tell when they aren't in fruit.
What's the difference?
Well, people think there's one type.
But there's lots of them.
Cuthberts, Queen Annes, Montmorencys,
sweet ones, sour ones.
Why on earth would you know this?
Mum's got an orchard back home.
Only a few trees.
This time of year, it looks like it's been snowing.
Blossom everywhere.
And then in May, we have to pick them.
Me and Joe.
Takes the whole day.
So these ones are all goners?
Oh, no.
They'll grow again when the stones rot.
You'll end up with more trees than before.
It looks abandoned.
Let's hope so.
We have to make sure.
♪ ♪
(crows cawing in distance)
♪ ♪
(quietly): I'll take front. You take back.
♪ ♪
(broken glass tinkles under footstep)
Anything?
Nothing.
-Did you find any food? -No.
I don't like this place.
♪ ♪
(cow moos in distance)
(cow moos)
(gasps softly)
(sighs)
Map says get over that ridge,
and it's a straight shot to Écoust.
Good.
(planes buzzing in distance)
(rapid gunfire in distance)
(rapid gunfire continues in distance)
BLAKE: Is that our friends again?
SCHOFIELD: Looks like it.
Dogfight.
BLAKE: Who's winning?
SCHOFIELD: Us, I think.
Two on one.
-(explosion in distance) -(engine buzzing)
BLAKE: They got him.
(engine sputtering)
(pilot screaming)
(pilot grunting)
(pilot pleading in German)
-(grunts) -(coughs)
(speaking German)
We should put him out of his misery.
No. Get him some water. He needs water.
It's all right. It's all right. Steady.
-St-Steady. Stay still. -PILOT: Nein.
(pump creaking)
Stop. Stop!
-(Blake grunting) -No, no, no!
(Blake screams)
No!
You bastard!
(groans)
You bloody bastard.
(groans)
-(gasps) -Oh.
-Oh, God, no. -Oh.
My God, no!
(groans)
Jes... Jesus, no!
-Oh, Je... -We have to stop the bleeding.
(cries out) Stop! Stop it! Stop it!
It's all right. It's all right. It's going to be all right.
Ow. (groans)
-We're going to stand up. -(groans)
-Yes. Yes. -Right?
-Okay. -(grunting)
No! I can't. I can't.
Ow! (panting)
-We have to get to an aid post. -I can't!
I'll carry you. It isn't very far.
Just bring a doctor here.
We can't. We have to go together.
(panting, groans)
We're going to get up. We're going to get up.
(both grunting)
Stop.
Please stop!
Put me down!
Put me down, you bastard!
Please! Put me down!
(both grunting)
-(Schofield panting) -(Blake groaning)
(Schofield sighs)
You have to try to keep moving.
Let's just sit.
-Let me sit. -No, we can't.
We have to find the 2nd, remember?
Your brother. We have to go now.
You can start on without me. I'll catch up.
No.
You can't stay here.
We have to move. All right?
We have to move.
Come on. Come on!
-(groans) -Come on.
That's it. Come on.
-Come on. Come on. -(groans)
(crying out)
Your brother.
We have to find your brother.
(both panting)
You'll recognize him.
He looks like me.
And he's a bit older.
(wood creaks)
(panting)
What are they?
Are we being shelled?
They're embers.
The barn is on fire.
I've been hit.
What was it?
You were stabbed.
Am I dying?
Yes.
Yes, I think you are.
(panting): Oh. No. No.
(panting softly)
This?
Inside.
♪ ♪
Will you write to my mum for me?
I will.
Tell her I wasn't scared.
(sobbing softly)
Anything else?
(panting)
I love them.
I wish that...
Talk to me.
Tell me you know the way.
I know the way.
I'm going to head southeast until I hit Écoust.
I'll pass through the town and out to the east,
all the way to Croisilles Wood.
It'll be dark by then.
That won't bother me.
I'll find the 2nd,
I'll give them the message,
and then I'll find your brother.
Just like you.
A little older.
(wind whistling softly)
(exhales softly)
(metal clinking quietly)
(sighs)
(grunting)
PARRY: You all right, mate?
Hey, it's all right. It's okay.
Come on, help him.
(men grunt)
Jesus. What happened to him?
Was it the plane?
-We saw the smoke. -Yeah.
(all grunting)
(Schofield panting)
SMITH: Go and fetch his things.
-PARRY: Sir. -ATKINS: Sir.
SMITH: A friend?
What are you doing here?
I have an urgent message for the 2nd Devons.
Orders to stop tomorrow morning's attack.
And where are they stationed?
Just beyond Écoust.
Come with me.
Come with me, Corporal. It's an order.
We're passing through Écoust.
We can take you some of the way.
Sir.
♪ ♪
(man coughing)
(engine idling nearby)
COLLINS: Oh, come on, Sergeant!
Put more men on the base.
At the trunk. It'll be heavier there.
Might be a tight squeeze.
COLLINS: No, you're not going to be able to just lift it.
Pivot the front end to the left.
Jesus, they don't make things easy, do they?
They could at least have retreated with a bit of grace.
Bastards!
Sir.
-You're not one of mine. -No, sir.
He has an urgent message to deliver to the 2nd Devons, sir.
COLLINS: Can you get past it?
-HARROP: No, sir. -Oh, for God's sake.
Just move it!
There's room in the casuals' truck, sir.
-He has orders. -Yes, yes, all right.
Come on, now. You can get through there sideways.
(engine revving)
How did you get here, sir?
Crossed no-man's-land, just outside Bapaume.
Took us the whole night.
Bumped into a couple of Hun stragglers on the way
who made a nuisance of themselves.
You're going up to the new line?
Attempting to.
The Newfoundlands have pushed forwards
and requested reinforcements.
I'm sorry about your friend.
May I tell you something that you probably already know?
It doesn't do to dwell on it.
No, sir.
Hop on.
(men chattering)
Make some space there.
Come on, in you get.
♪ ♪
(Schofield grunts)
All right. Here we go again, boys.
Welcome aboard the night bus to fuck-knows-where.
Is that a dead dog?
-You got a fag? -Yeah. There you go.
♪ ♪
-Butler. -BUTLER: Oy.
-Carry on with that story. -Oh, yeah. Right.
So, when we get off the train, Beaufoy comes up to us,
and he's having a right go.
(lisping): "Lance Corporal, whatever one does,
-one never lets standards slip." -(chuckles)
Then Scott comes out the latrine.
He wipes his hand on the back of Beaufoy's jacket.
-Shit all down his back. -(laughs)
Was that meant to be Captain Beaufoy?
BUTLER: Oh, piss off, you. You can't do any better.
(lisping): "Men, your rifle stocks are
an embarrassment to the entire Expeditionary Force."
-BUTLER: Nah. -MALKY: No.
JONDALAR: You're both bloody awful.
You don't know. You barely even speak the bloody language.
MALKY: He's got a better grasp of it than you, Cooke.
Well, go on, then, Jondalar. Give it a go. Let's see it.
(others murmuring encouragement)
"Rossi! Never in my 200 years as a soldier
have I seen such a sorry excuse for a latrine pit."
-(laughter) -Shite.
That is total shit.
Oy. Could've taken my teeth out with that.
MALKY: You could do with a new set.
BUTLER: You got somewhere you need to be?
-(truck creaks) -(men groan)
-No. -Arsehole needs driving lessons.
(horn honking)
-(men shouting in distance) -(horn honking in distance)
(engine revving)
-He should reverse. -COOKE: Yeah.
Try it in reverse.
-Reverse! -(gear creaks)
(engine revving)
No. Stop.
-Stop! -(revving stops)
-Everyone needs to get out. -BUTLER: Who the fuck is he?
All out!
-Come on! -All right.
All right, keep your bloody hair on.
Right.
One, two, three!
(engine revving)
-(grunts, sighs) -(revving stops)
We need to get some wood, put it under the wheels.
No, we haven't got the time.
We all need to push. Come on.
Come on!
-(engine revving) -(Schofield yells)
(revving stops)
Please. I have to go now.
Please.
All right, come on, lads.
Come on.
ROSSI: Come on, boys.
One, two, three.
(engine revving)
(Schofield yells)
-(yells) -(revving stops)
ROSSI: Come on, boys! One last push, yeah?!
One, two, three!
-(engine revving) -(men straining)
(men sighing, cheering, laughing)
Back in.
Get back in.
Go. (panting)
Are you all right?
Here, driver, how about you try
to keep it on the bloody road for a change?
DRIVER: Oh, piss off.
(men chattering)
(Schofield panting)
So, where are you going?
I have to get to the 2nd Devons, just past Écoust.
Why?
They're attacking at dawn.
I have orders to stop them.
How come?
They're walking into a trap.
How many?
Sixteen hundred.
Ooh. (exhales sharply)
Jesus.
Why did they send you on your own?
They didn't.
There were two of us.
So now it's down to you?
Yes.
You'll never make it.
SCHOFIELD: Yes, I will.
Thank you.
♪ ♪
Look at it.
Fucking look at it.
Three years fighting over this.
We should've just let the bastards keep it.
I mean, who machine-guns cows?
Huns with extra bullets.
Bastards.
Clever.
They know if they don't shoot the cow, you will eat it.
ROSSI: Still bastards.
MALKY: Yeah, it's not even our bloody country.
How long gone do you reckon they are?
JONDALAR: Why?
Worried we'll catch up with them?
-(Malky chuckles) -ROSSI: Yeah.
Right. Be a bloody miracle at this rate.
COOKE: Yeah, they're probably right round the next corner.
ROSSI: Piss off. No, they're not.
Why don't they just bloody well give up?
Eh? Don't they want to go home?
ROSSI: They hate their wives and mothers.
And Germany must be a shithole.
(Malky chuckles)
They're retreating.
They're miles back.
Got 'em on the ropes, at least.
JONDALAR: No. We don't.
(horn honks)
Oh, bollocks. What's up now?
-Not another bloody tree. -(brakes squeaking)
DRIVER: Bridge is down.
Oh. That's a shame.
Looks like I'll be getting out here.
Good luck.
ROSSI: Keep some of that luck for yourself, pal.
-Think you'll be needing it. -BUTLER: Good luck, mate.
-MALKY: Good luck. -COOKE: Good luck, gov.
-SINGER: Good luck. -Don't balls it up.
I hope you get there.
Thank you.
The next bridge is six miles.
We'll have to divert.
I can't, sir.
I don't have the time.
Of course.
Best of luck.
Thank you, sir.
Corporal?
If you do manage to get to Colonel Mackenzie,
make sure there are witnesses.
They are direct orders, sir.
I know.
But some men just want the fight.
♪ ♪
Thank you, sir.
SMITH: Driver! Move off!
(crows cawing)
(trucks departing)
♪ ♪
(metal creaking)
♪ ♪
-(gunshot) -(crows cawing, wings flapping)
-(gunshot) -(grunts)
(gunfire continues)
(grunts)
(gunfire continues)
(grunts)
-(panting) -(gunfire stops)
-(gunshot) -(grunts)
(panting)
(breathing deeply)
♪ ♪
(doors creak)
♪ ♪
(liquid dripping slowly)
(thunder rumbling softly in distance)
(water dripping faster)
(exhales sharply)
♪ ♪
(breathing sharply)
(groans softly)
(groans)
(grunts softly)
(breathes sharply)
(pained grunt)
(breathing sharply)
(flares popping and sizzling in distance)
♪ ♪
(flare popping and sizzling)
(gunshot in distance)
-(gunshot) -(grunts)
(man shouting in German in distance)
(gunfire continues)
(flare popping and sizzling)
(flare sizzling)
(flares popping and sizzling)
(flare passing overhead)
(grunts)
(panting)
(flare sizzling)
♪ ♪
(racks rifle)
(fire rumbling in distance)
(fire rumbling)
(fire roaring, crackling)
♪ ♪
-(gunshot) -(Schofield grunts)
(panting)
(man shouts in German)
(panting)
(footsteps running past)
♪ ♪
(breathing shakily)
SCHOFIELD: Anglais.
Not German.
Friend.
I'm a friend.
(sets down rifle)
This place, this town.
Écoust?
C'est Écoust?
(Schofield sighs)
Others?
No. Just me.
O-Only me.
I need to be somewhere.
I need to find a wood to the southeast.
Uh, trees.
Les arbres?
-Uh, Croiset? -Croisilles?
Yes.
-River. -River.
It go there.
Trees.
Croisilles.
(Schofield groans)
(groans softly)
(grunts)
Asseyez-vous, monsieur.
(panting)
(groans)
(shushing)
(gasps)
(exhales sharply)
(sighing)
Thank you.
(baby fussing quietly)
(exhales sharply)
(baby continues fussing quietly)
SCHOFIELD: A girl?
(baby continues fussing quietly)
What is her name?
Who is her mother?
I have food.
Here.
I have these.
But you can have them.
Here, take them all.
For you and the child.
Here.
Milk?
(sniffs)
Merci.
Bonjour.
-Bonjour. -(baby fusses)
Children?
-You? -(baby fusses)
(shushes)
-It's all right. -(baby quiets)
(speaks French)
"They went to sea in a Sieve, they did,
"In a Sieve they went to sea:
"In spite of all their friends could say,
"On a winter's morn, on a stormy day,
"In a Sieve they went to sea!
"Far and few, far and few,
"Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
"Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
And they went to sea in a Sieve."
(church bell tolling slowly six times in distance)
♪ ♪
(baby coos)
(baby fussing quietly)
-(pained grunt) -Stay.
Stay.
Please.
I have to go.
(baby fussing quietly)
Please.
I'm sorry.
(fire rumbling)
♪ ♪
(glass bottle clinking)
(man retching)
(man coughing)
(man groans)
(muffled grunt)
(shushes)
(panting)
(shushes)
Engländer!
(knife clatters on floor)
MAN (slurred): Mein Gott, Baumer.
(man continues speaking slurred German)
(Baumer choking quietly)
(man continues speaking slurred German)
(Baumer straining quietly)
Baumer?
(man speaks slurred German)
Baumer?
(speaks slurred German)
(man grunts)
MAN: Baumer!
-Engländer! -(gunshot)
Engländer!
(gunshot)
(grunts)
♪ ♪
(man shouts in German in distance)
(gunfire continues)
(water rushing)
-(gasping) -(gunfire continues)
(coughing, gasping)
(gasping)
(gasping continues)
♪ ♪
(coughing)
(gasping)
(grunts)
(gasping)
(grunting)
(gasping)
(panting)
(water burbling gently)
(sighs)
(birds chirping)
(gasping)
♪ ♪
(gasps softly)
(grunting)
♪ ♪
(grunting)
(gasping grunts)
(sobbing)
(panting)
(man singing faintly in distance)
(panting)
(man continues singing faintly in distance)
♪ I am a poor wayfaring stranger ♪
♪ I'm traveling through this world of woe ♪
♪ Yet there's no sickness, toil nor danger ♪
♪ In that bright land to which I go ♪
♪ I'm going there to see my father ♪
♪ I'm going there no more to roam ♪
♪ I'm only going over Jordan ♪
♪ I'm only going over home ♪
♪ I know dark clouds will gather round me ♪
♪ I know my way is rough and steep ♪
♪ But golden fields lie just before me ♪
♪ Where God's redeemed shall ever sleep ♪
♪ I'm going home to see my mother ♪
♪ And all my loved ones who've gone on ♪
♪ I'm only going over Jordan ♪
♪ I'm only going over home ♪
♪ I am a poor wayfaring stranger ♪
♪ I'm traveling through this world of woe ♪
♪ Yet there's no sickness, toil nor danger ♪
♪ In that bright land to which I go ♪
♪ I'm going there to see my father ♪
♪ I'm going there no more to roam ♪
♪ I'm only going over Jordan ♪
♪ I'm only going over home. ♪
(applause)
(men chattering)
CAPTAIN: D Company, move out!
SEYMOUR: You all right, pal?
Uh, where you from?
GREY: He's probably got the wind up.
SEYMOUR: Well, he's not one of ours.
BULLEN: He's bloody soaked.
GREY: Fuck it. Let's just pick him up and take him with us.
(weakly): Have to find the Devons.
-GREY: What's he saying? -What's that, mate?
The Devons.
I have to find the Devons.
We're the Devons.
♪ ♪
-You're the Devons? -Yes, Corp.
Why haven't you gone over?
W-We're the second wave.
WILLOCK: They don't send us all at once.
Yeah, we're D Company. We spent the night digging in.
We go last.
(Schofield pants)
Are you all right?
Mackenzie. Where's Colonel Mackenzie?
Well, he's down at the line.
-Which way? -This way.
We're headed up there now.
Oy, steady on, mate. Where you going?
-(Schofield panting) -(men murmuring)
♪ ♪
Move!
Let me by!
Let me through!
CAPTAIN: Remember, follow your platoon commander.
Stay spread out and watch for his orders.
Where is your commanding officer?
He's in the holding pen.
CAPTAIN: Raise your signal flags or fire the signal flares
when you've taken your section of the Hun line.
HUTTON: B Company, stand to.
Now, listen and listen well.
On the first mark, A Company will advance.
B Company will then move to the front line.
Sir, I have a message from General Erinmore.
Who the fuck are you?
The attack has been called off.
General Erinmore has called off the attack.
Balls, man. We're about to go over.
-We've got them on the run. -You don't.
Please don't send your men over.
Get out of the way, Corporal!
These are direct orders from army command!
Where is Colonel Mackenzie?!
Jesus Christ, man! Go and see the captain!
Now, I want us up there quickly, you understand?
Do you understand?!
-MEN: Yes, sir! -OFFICER: Two Mills bombs per man.
NCOs collect flares and signal flags.
-Keep to your stations. -Oy. Oy!
♪ ♪
WRIGHT: Nine and ten section at the ready!
We will advance on the first whistle blast.
-11 and 12... -GARDNER: ...not slow down.
The man next to you falls, keep moving.
Your orders are to break the lines.
Where is the captain?
He's over there.
Keep in your section formation.
Sir! Sir!
-(sobbing) -Captain, I have a message.
-This attack is called off. -(shells firing in distance)
You have to stop. You have to stop!
Where is Colonel Mackenzie?
Where is Mackenzie?!
(shells continue firing in distance)
(grunts)
♪ ♪
Get back! Back!
Return to your sections! Back!
Hold fast!
RICHARDS: Seven Platoon, one minute!
SCHOFIELD: Sir, I have orders to stop this attack!
What?
Where is Colonel Mackenzie?!
He's further up the line.
-How far? -300 yards.
He's in a cut-and-cover.
You'll have to wait until the first wave goes over.
No. No, I can't.
Seven Platoon, 30 seconds!
(explosion nearby)
You can't possibly make it that way, man.
Are you bloody insane?
What the hell are you doing, Lance Corporal?
No. No, no, no, no!
-(whistle blowing) -(men yelling)
♪ ♪
Into position!
Get ready!
-Colonel Mackenzie. -He's in there.
-Two minutes! -SCHOFIELD: Let me through!
Hey. Hey!
-Let me through! -What the hell do you think you're doing?
I have to get through!
I have to see Colonel Mackenzie.
-What are you doing? -I have to stop this attack.
RYLANDS: Colonel, we've seen flares.
The men on the left flank have made it to the German line.
-Colonel! Colonel! -Hold him. Hold him.
Listen to me. Listen to me. I have a letter.
I need to see Colonel Mackenzie!
There's no bloody way you're getting in there, mate.
RYLANDS: Sergeant, send the next wave.
No!
SERGEANT: Second wave, prepare yourselves!
-SCHOFIELD: Colonel Mackenzie! -Concentrate everything there.
This attack is not to go ahead!
You have been ordered to stop. You have to stop.
Who the hell are you?
Lance Corporal Schofield, sir, 8th.
I have orders from General Erinmore
to call off this attack.
You're too late, Lance Corporal.
Sir, these orders are from army command.
You have to read them.
Shall we hold back the second wave, sir?
No, Major. Hesitate now, and we lose.
Victory's only 500 yards away.
Sir, please read the letter.
I have heard it all before.
I'm not going to wait until dusk or for fog.
I'm not calling back my men
only to send them out there again tomorrow,
not when we've got the bastards on the run.
This is their last stand.
SCHOFIELD: The Germans planned this, sir.
They've been planning it for months.
They want you to attack.
Read the letter.
(explosions continue in distance)
(men shouting orders outside)
-Major? -HEPBURN: Yes, sir?
-Stand them down. -Yes, sir.
MACKENZIE: Call up the orderlies. Tend the wounded.
Hold the line in case they counter.
OFFICERS: Yes, sir.
HEPBURN: Stand down! Stand down!
-(sighs) -(whistle blowing outside)
Stand down!
(whistles blowing outside)
-Cease fire! Cease fire! -Stand down!
(Mackenzie sighs heavily)
I hoped today might be a good day.
Hope is a dangerous thing.
That's it for now, and then next week,
command will send a different message.
"Attack at dawn."
There is only one way this war ends.
Last man standing.
Have someone see to your wounds.
Now fuck off, Lance Corporal.
OFFICER (in distance): Bearers!
Stretcher bearers!
Bearers!
Stretcher bearers!
Well done, lad.
Thank you, sir.
Do you know where Lieutenant Blake is, sir?
Blake?
There were two of us.
I was sent here with his brother.
Ah.
Well, knowing Lieutenant Blake,
he would have gone over with his men.
He was in the first wave.
How could I find him, sir?
You can try the casualty clearing station
behind the line.
Otherwise...
Thank you, sir.
CAIRNS: Major Hepburn, sir.
♪ ♪
-Keep moving. Keep moving. -Nearly there.
Ow! (grunting)
Will I make it?
-Go the fuck up. -Clear the way.
Come on, quickly.
Get a medic!
Medic! Medic!
-Just keep moving. -(sobbing)
Keep moving, keep moving.
That's it.
♪ ♪
(man groaning)
(man exhales sharply)
Sergeant, I have to find Lieutenant Blake.
-Do you know where he is? -No.
Make way for the stretchers!
Minor injuries to the far field.
Stretchers to me.
Walking wounded to the collection area.
Move aside to let the stretcher bearers through.
(man sobbing)
-Move it. -Clear the way.
Sir, is Lieutenant Blake here?
No idea.
Move along, Corporal.
If you can walk, move to the triage area.
-I can't move. -(men groaning, sobbing)
Help me.
Let me go home.
Lieutenant Blake!
I need an M.O. over here.
Sir, he's out.
Get him out of here, now.
Out of the bloody way.
SCHOFIELD: Blake?!
Out of the way!
Has anyone seen Lieutenant Blake?!
He's hemorrhaging. Go quickly.
He needs a surgeon.
I want to be left here.
Tourniquet!
-Don't look. It's okay. -Amputation.
Straight to surgery.
(men groaning, sobbing)
My leg! My leg.
I need some help here, quickly!
He's gone.
I can't die.
Don't let me fucking die.
-I need something now! -I need my mum.
Coming through.
(man groaning)
LIEUTENANT: All right, come on, boys.
He's taken one in the leg.
-He's lost a lot of blood. -MAN: Sir.
Lieutenant Blake?
Yes?
Do you need medical assistance?
No, sir.
I'm from the 8th.
What the hell are you doing here?
I was sent here to deliver a message.
The 8th?
You must know my brother.
I was sent here with him.
Tom's here? Where is he?
It was very quick.
I'm sorry.
(metal clinking quietly)
BLAKE: What's your name?
SCHOFIELD: Schofield, sir.
I'm sorry, what?
It's Schofield, sir.
William Schofield.
Will.
Well, you need some food.
Get yourself to the mess tent.
♪ ♪
If I may, I'd like to write to your mother.
Tell her that Tom wasn't alone.
(sniffles) Of course.
He was...
He was a good man.
Always telling funny stories.
He saved my life.
I am glad you were with him.
(sniffles)
Thank you, Will.
♪ ♪
(sighing softly)
♪ ♪