I say, the Archduke's got his wife with him.
I thought they usually kept her out of sight.
Today is their 14th wedding anniversary.
I see. So that's why she's been allowed out.
It's a pity he married beneath him.
What on earth will they do with her
when he inerits the Austrian empire?
Perhaps by that time, madame,
Austria will no longer have an empire.
My dear Monsieur Poincaré.
Don't tell me you've got some delicious piece of gossip.
You must understand, my dear,
that France doesn't approve of Austria at the moment.
- Oh? - Against Austria, nothing.
But their foreign minister...
Count Berchtold? Why, he's absolutely charming.
He wishes to make a war against Serbia,
so he crawls to the Kaiser for aid.
I don't think there'll be any war.
There speaks the true diplomat.
And if there is, there's certainly no need for us to get involved.
Yes. Well, I mean, you know, who cares?
Serbia's such a little country anyway, you know.
And I mean, they're always up to something, aren't they?
Serbia is little, madame,
but it will not be a little war.
Well, that's up to you and the Russians, isn't it?
As you wish. Please excuse me, madame.
Enchantée.
Sir Edward.
- My dear Edward. - Poldy.
Your Majesty, you know
the British Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs,
Sir Edward Grey.
Count Helmuth von Moltke, Chief of the German General Staff.
Still expanding your army and navy?
We like to keep busy.
Yes, we're off to sign the...
He's forced me to mobilise...
I see the French President is hobnobbing with the Czar again.
I really think they mean to fight with us over Serbia.
Quite ridiculous.
Couldrt you persuade your king to have a talk to the Czar?
After all, they're cousins.
Why not ask the Kaiser? He's a cousin of Nicholas, too.
Well, I hope the French haven't encouraged you to do anything foolish.
Germany is with us. It could be embarrassing.
- Because our royal family is German? - Precisely.
I think they may be relied on to play their part.
Excellent. Excellent.
After all, the last thing any of us want is a war.
War?
War is unthinkable!
It is out of the question!
It would upset the balance of power.
We Germans are an industrious and moral people.
We have earned the right to have our say in the world's affairs.
The Republic of France is the seat of reason,
the centre of world civilisation and culture!
Now, look here. The British Empire is the most magnificent example...
Gentlemen!
Gentlemen.
Ready for the shot, if you please!
Would the Italian and Turkish gentlemen
move in a little closer, please?
Right. Nice smile for everybody!
Austrian Archduke assassinated.
Austrian Archduke assassinated!
Hey, wait for me! I want to see the Emperor, too!
Count Berchtold? Count Berchtold!
Wait for me! Count Berchtold!
Have you signed the declaration of war, Your Majesty?
I have this report from the Commander of the Fourth Army Corps.
"Serbian troops have fired on our positions
"from steamers on the Danube.
"Our troops, in order to defend themselves,
"were forced to return the enemy fire.
"A considerable skirmish developed."
"Assassination, terrorism...
"Failure to accede to our legitimate demands,"
et cetera, et cetera.
"Austria now at war with Serbia."
The more so since Serbian provocateurs
are already attacking Austrian troop positions.
Hostilities have already begun.
But that wasrt true. The Serbians haven't attacked anyone.
Of course not.
And as the information about the Serbian attack has not been confirmed,
I have taken it upon myself to erase all reference to the incident
from the declaration of war.
Your Majesties,
Your Excellencies, my lords,
gentlemen.
Ready when you are.
Take your places, please, for the ever-popular war game.
Complete with songs, battles and a few jokes.
The whole of Europe will explode at any moment.
Can Germany do nothing to stop the Austrians?
Apparently not.
We are the only country prepared to help the Serbs.
If Russia mobilises, so will Germany.
France is bound by treaty to aid Russia.
Britain must make her position clear.
I think we should all stay calm.
The world will be engulfed in the most terrible of wars,
the ultimate aim of which is the ruin of Germany.
England, France and Russia
are conspiring together to destroy us.
Your Majesty,
we know for a fact that you are mobilising the Russian army.
Upon my word of honour, you are wrong.
I do not doubt it, but we have irrefutable proof.
- You want my word of honour in writing? - No.
Thank you.
In that case, I can only repeat to you,
at this hour not one man, not one horse has been called up.
I must congratulate you on persuading Italy to join us.
Our allies are dropping away from us like rotten apples,
even before the war has started.
General mobilisation is ordered by the St Petersburg Council of War.
France has mobilised, too, Your Imperial Majesty.
The encirclement of Germany is an accomplished fact.
We have run our heads into a noose.
England?
She has not yet made up her mind.
- Abandon the plan. - It is too late.
The wheels are already in motion.
Get in touch with my cousin, King George V.
Inform him my troops are being prevented,
by telephone and telegram, from passing through Belgium.
They've gone into Luxembourg, sir.
The lamps are going out all over Europe.
We shall not see them lit again in our lifetime.
Notify Lieutenant Feldmann.
He is to withdraw immediately from Luxembourg.
To retreat now would be disastrous. We must go forward.
Very well.
Advance into Luxembourg!
The sword is drawn!
I cannot sheath it again without victory and honour!
All of you shall and will see to it
that only in honour is it returned to the scabbard.
Let every man look into his own heart and his own feelings
and construe for himself the extent of his obligation for himself.
Sir.
They've invaded Belgium.
Now you'll have to go to war.
You're wanted at headquarters, sir.
Your Majesty.
General's brigade, march!
We do not see any reason, however distant, for a conflict.
May I beg Your Excellency to express to His Majesty
my profound gratitude for all the marks of friendship and consideration
which I have received in the last eight months.
And assure him of the profound respect
of His Majesty the King,
who regards His Majesty with deep veneration
and expresses the hope that the most regrettable state of war
between Great Britain and the monarchy may be of no long duration.
I am extremely perturbed at the thought
that we should find ourselves at conflict with England
since the two countries are so near to one another
politically and morally, with traditional sympathies and interests.
Allow me to share your hope that the present,
most unfortunate state of war will be of no long duration
and that normal relations will shortly be resumed.
Mum, a band! A band!
Come on! Come on!
Coming.
Grandpa, look! It's a band!
Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!
By the centre, quick march!
Ha'penny won'th of chips, please.
Oh, I do like to live beside the seaside
I do like to be beside the sea
- Good morning, Sir Douglas. - Good morning, Miss Bates.
Oh, I do like to see a lot of soldiers
Oh, soldiers are what I like to see
And if they've got a sword and horse
Then I like them more, of course
Because I just love the cavalry
Oh, I do like to live beside the seaside
I do like to be beside the sea
Oh I do like to stroll along the prom prom prom
Where the brass bands play tiddley-om-pom-pom
Right. Come along, then. First man, please.
Brownley, Cecil. One, please.
Thank you very much.
- Lang, Mary. - Thank you.
Take her, love.
Smith, Florence Victoria.
Smith, Jack Henry.
Smith, Mary Emma. Thank you.
Smith, Harry Arnold.
Smith, Elizabeth May.
Smith, George Patrick Michael.
Wilson, Rose.
Smith, Frederick Percy.
Smith, Dickie. I beg your pardon, sir. Richard.
Ex-Colour Sergeant Smith, King's Own Yorkshire Light Infantry.
- Splendid. - One, please. Dalby, Gwen.
Thank you.
Smith, Bertram Biddle.
Come on.
Come down off of there.
- Jack, here. - Hello.
Come on.
Don't be daft, we're on holiday.
Harry.
Hot potatoes!
Here, Freddie.
Potatoes!
George!
No.
George.
Grandpa, look, there's a soldier.
Mesdames et messieurs,
presenting for your greatest entertainment,
the most fantastic spectacle of the world today,
the armée française in all its glory!
Its banners, its uniforms will pass now
before your very eyes. Rideau!
- Bonjour, soldier. - Bonjour, mon colonel.
- It's a good day for the chase. - We await your orders.
A battle won is a battle in which one will not confess oneself beaten.
A silly German sausage dreamt
Napoleon he'd be
Then he went and broke his promise
It was made in Germany
He shook hands with Britannia and eternal peace he swore
Naughty boy, he talked of peace while he prepared for war
His warships sailed upon the sea they looked a pretty sight
But when they heard the bulldog bark they disappeared from sight
The Kaiser said, 'Be careful if by Jellicoe they're seen
'Then every man-of-war I've got
'Will be a submarine'
Belgium put the kibosh on the Kaiser
Europe took the stick and made him sore
On his throne it hurts to sit
And when John Bull starts to hit
He will never sit upon it anymore
He'll have to go to school again and learn his geography
He quite forgot Britannia and the hands across the sea
Australia and Canada the Russian and the Jap
And England looked so small he couldn't see her on the map
For Belgium put the kibosh on the Kaiser
Europe took the stick and made him sore
We shall shout with victory's joy Hold your hand out, naughty boy
You must never play at soldiers anymore
He'll never sit upon it anymore
Belgium put the kibosh on the Kaiser
Europe took a stick and made him sore
On his throne it hurts to sit
And when John Bull starts to hit
He will never sit upon it anymore
On his throne it hurts to sit
And when John Bull starts to hit
He will never sit upon it
He will never sit upon it...
Paper! Paper!
Brussels falls!
- Paper! Paper! - Here, boy!
Paper! Read all about it! Brussels falls!
'The battlefield is unbelievable.
'Heaps of corpses lying everywhere, rifles in hand.
'Thousands of dead in row after row.
'Night has fallen, and the rain has started.
'Shells are bursting and screaming.
'Artillery fire is the worst.
'We are all utterly exhausted.
'I lie at night listening to the wounded groaning.
'The cannonading goes on and on.
'Whenever it stops, we hear the wounded crying out
'from all over the woods.
'Two or three men go mad every night.
'I feel a great pity
'for many of the civilian population who have lost everything.
'But they hate us. One of them fired at us.
'He was immediately taken out...
'Taken out and shot.
'Yesterday, we were ordered to attack the enemy flank
'in a forest of beeches,
'but the enemy gunner saw us first and opened fire.
'The casualties on both sides were truly terrible.'
Are we downearted?
No!
So let your voices ring and all together sing
Are we downearted?
No!
Not while Britannia rules the waves
Not likely
While we have Jack upon the sea
And Tommy on the land we needrt fret
It's a long, long way to Tipperary
But we're not downearted yet
Are we downearted?
No!
So let your voices ring and all together sing
Are we downearted?
No!
Not while Britannia rules the waves
Not likely
While we have Jack upon the sea
And Tommy on the land we needrt fret
It's a long, long way to Tipperary
But we're not downearted
yet
We watched you playing cricket and every kind of game
At football, golf and polo you men have made your name
But now your country calls you to play your part in war
And no matter what befalls you
We shall love you all the more
So come and join the forces as your fathers did before
Oh, we don't want to lose you
But we think you ought to go
For your king and your country
Both need you so
We shall want you and miss you
But with all our might and main
We shall cheer you, thank you, kiss you
When you come back again
Oh, we don't want to lose you
But we think you ought to go
For your king and your country
Both need you so
We shall want you and miss you
But with all our might and main
We shall cheer you, thank you, kiss you
When you come back again
The Army and the Navy need attention
The outlook isn't healthy, you'll admit
But I have a perfect dream of a new recruiting scheme
Which I think is absolutely it
If only other girls would do as I do
I believe that we could manage it alone
For I turn all suitors from me
But the sailor and the Tommy
I've an army and a navy of my own
On Sunday I walk out with a soldier
Monday I'm taken by a tar
Tuesday I'm out with a baby Boy Scout
On Wednesday a hussar
On Thursday I gang oot wi' a Scottie
On Friday the Captain of the crew
But on Saturday, I'm willing if you'll only take the shilling
To make a man of any one of you
I teach the tenderfoot to face the powder
That gives an added lustre to my skin
And I show the raw recruit how to give a chaste salute
So when I'm presenting arms he's falling in
It makes you almost proud to be a woman
When you make a strapping soldier of a kid
And he says you put me through it
And I didn't want to do it but you went and made me love you
So I did
On Sunday I walk out with a bosun
On Monday a rifleman in green
On Tuesday I choose a sub in the blues
On Wednesday a marine
On Thursday a terrier from Tooting
On Friday a midshipman or two
But on Saturday I'm willing
If you'll only take the shilling
To make a man of any one of you
Come on, lads! We need a million!
A million!
- Be a man! Enlist today! - Enlist today!
Have you a man digging your garden when he should be digging trenches?
He should be digging trenches!
Are there any able-bodied men in the house?
'Cause on Saturday I'm willing if you'll only take the shilling
To make a man of any one of you
Now, you heard what the lovely lady said!
- We need a million of you! - Able-bodied men.
Come along, my lucky lads! Take the King's shilling.
We'll make a man of you!
- I'll turn you into a man. - Give you the time of your life!
I'll give you the time of your life.
We'll give you the time of your life!
A kiss! A kiss from this lovely lady for the first man to volunteer!
You, sir! How about you, sir?
That's right, sir! Why, step forward!
Step forward now! That's right, my lucky lad!
Maudie!
Come on, lads! You heard what I said! We need a million of you!
Well done, my boy. Proud of you.
Proud of you.
All right, dear. Lil!
Hold on to him, love.
That's right, boys! Up you come!
Three more! Get on stage! Get up!
You, sir!
Make your girlfriend proud of you.
Be a hero and step forward, sir.
Thank you, sir.
One young lady still left unescorted.
You, sir! You may be fat and 40, sir, but your country needs you.
Come and join the army!
'Cause on Saturday I'm willing if you'll only take the shilling
To make a man of any one of you
What are you up to?
Get back into line, you horrible little man, you.
And all of you,
from now on, your bloody life won't be won'th living!
And you won't bloody die laughing, either!
Now, then...
Party,
attention!
Quite right, lad.
We've just crossed the Belgian border. We should be arriving in Mons
in about two hours' time.
Now, see that?
The commanders of the British expeditionary force,
Field Marshal Sir John French, General Sir Henry Wilson.
Off to a big conference, more than likely.
I must confess, I'm not looking forward to this meeting.
What do you think the French will say, sir,
when they hear we only have four divisions
- instead of the six we promised? - They can say what they like.
Damn it all, Wilson,
we're not under any obligation to help the French.
We've got our own war to fight.
What?
Yes, well, I've no doubt
that they will appreciate our point of view.
One must always remember
the class of people these French generals come from.
They're mostly tradesmen, I believe.
I shart understand a damn word they say anyway.
In regard to our plan, sir, I've actually worked out
the number of gun carriages we shall need for the first stage
and even the amount of forage for the horses.
Would you care to see the figures?
Well, I thought, considering the terrain...
Yes, yes. We know all about your bicycling trips through France, Wilson.
I realise it's a bit late, sir,
but do you think I should try to arrange for an interpreter
to help us out at the conference?
Don't be ridiculous, Wilson!
The most vital consideration at the moment
is to maintain absolute secrecy.
Well, I never seen one of them before.
I think I've won a prize.
- So have I. - You have, my lad.
So have you all.
Left turn! Quick march!
Right then! Three shots for tuppence!
Come on, lad. How about you?
That's right. And what about you, lad?
Come on, step up. Three shots for tuppence.
- That's the ticket, Jack, lad. - Right, don't fire the gun till I tell you.
Get a good grip, firm and steady.
The British riflemars the best in the world.
No, don't jerk.
Squeeze the trigger.
That's right.
Steady now.
- Don't blink, lad. - Don't blink, lad.
- Left eye shut. - Left eye shut.
- Pick your targets carefully. - Pick your targets carefully.
Don't fire till you hear my command!
Right, lads. Enemy in front, 400 yards.
Five rounds! Rapid fire!
Cease fire!
Stand down. Smith! Stand to until relieved.
Yes, sir.
Listen to this.
"In this new experience, you may find temptation
"both in wine and women. You must resist both.
"Order to the troops. Signed, Kitchener,
"Secretary of bleeding State."
- Hot, isn't it, Sergeant? - It'll be hotter still tomorrow, lad.
They've pulled out the Suffolks and the Warwicks
and most of the rest of the corps.
We'll make your mother proud of you yet.
What's happened to the French Army?
The French Army's nothing to do with us, laddie.
We ain't asking any help from them,
and they ain't getting any help from us, even though they've asked.
So, we shall be here on our own then?
Well, someone's got to look after the shop, haven't they?
Here they come again! Fix bayonets!
Hold your fire, hold your fire. Wait for it.
Pick your target at 300 yards! Wagstaff, you horrible little wretch!
I'll tell you when!
I wish somebody would tell me what's happening.
Send for the boys of the girls' brigade
To set old England free
Send for me brother
Me sister or me mother
But for God's sake, don't send me
Enemy in front!
Five rounds, rapid fire!
Wounded home from France! First boys back from Mons!
Read all about it!
Careful, now.
Read all about it!
Watch it, lads. Careful does it.
Nurse!
Come on, let's have you outside. Outside!
- Look lively with that crutch, Spinks. - It can't bring itself, can it?
Come on! On your feet!
- No flags, then, Sarge? - Very comical, Burgess.
- Sergeant! - Yes, lad?
Oh, just smell that soot, boys.
Lovely.
Right now, smarten yourselves up! Eyes front!
Attention!
Thank you, Sergeant Dodds. Stand the men at ease.
Stand at ease! Carry on.
Ambulances are ready, Sarge. Officers only.
What about the other ranks?
No arrangements made for them at the moment, sir.
We'll be all right, sir.
Transport's this way, sir, if you care to follow me.
- Carry on, Sergeant. - Sir.
Nearly home, George.
Hello, Smith. Sorry about your leg.
- Are you all right? - It's better than being at Mons, eh, sir?
- Yes. Good journey home? - Yes, thank you, sir.
Good. Chin up, then.
See you back at the front.
Now, gently. Gently. Stretcher down...
You're wasting your time with him, darling.
It's in splints.
- That's enough of that. - What about us, then, Sarge?
I'm awaiting further orders.
Will you sign this, please, Sergeant?
We're here because we're here because
We're here because we're here
We're here because we're here because
We're here because we're here
All right, all right, all right.
How about getting the train back, then, Sarge?
You'll get back soon enough, lad.
- Hooray. Mafeking's been relieved. - I'll have you, Burgess.
- What is it, Corporal? - It's all right, Sarge.
Some lorry drivers have volunteered to take the men
to Millbank Hospital in their dinner hour.
Right, get them fell in. I'll have a word with the RTO.
- Right you are, Sergeant. - Right!
You heard what the Sergeant said. Get yourselves fell in!
Dontemann, Gray!
Fall in as markers!
The rest of you men,
dress off from the left in two lines, across the platform!
Come on, come on! Double round the back there!
I said dress off from the left!
Some of you don't know your left from your right!
Carry him gently, boys.
Don't worry. We'll soon have you back at the front.
You're like a load of pregnant women!
Blimey, if this is the way you've been carrying on out there,
we ain't got no chance!
Hey, you! Pay attention, will you?
You're back in Blighty now!
And I want to see you set some good examples!
A couple of days with you lot, we'll soon whip you into some shape.
We want some spit and polish here.
We're going out in a minute, marching off.
We're going down the street, you'd better look lively.
Right. Get your stretcher party moving, Corporal.
Now, get a move on!
- Stretcher party, ready. - Right, now pull yourselves together.
Form up in two ranks on the left! Come along!
Party, attention!
Left turn!
By the right!
Quick march!
Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag
Come on, now! Pick 'em up!
Quit smiling!
Smile, smile, smile
While you've a lucifer to light your fag
Smile, boys, that's the style
What's the use of worrying
It never was won'thwhile
So pack up your troubles in your old kit bag
And smile, smile, smile
Read all about it!
First wounded boys home from France!
Read all about it!
Thank you.
I'm so glad it's real champagne.
So many of even the best people give one cider nowadays.
I'm not using my German wine, not while the war's on.
I think that's a splendid gesture, Stephen.
I say, isn't that Olivia?
Doesrt she look adorable?
That black dress is stunning.
So many women simply look depressing in mourning.
Now, come along, Elenor. Come along, come along.
It is a bit rotten, you know,
all those chaps getting killed and all that sort of thing.
Not at all.
The men at the front simply adore the war.
I had a letter from Julian the other day.
- Oh? - Champagne, sir.
He said it's like a great big picnic.
Nobody grumbles at him for getting dirty.
Oh, dear.
Not a bit like Christmas, is it?
No. It's awfully dull.
Father's business has had the most frightful knock.
We'd all agreed that the French and Germans
shouldn't touch the iron ore works in Alsace-Lorraine,
until some idiot French pilot goes and drops a bomb.
Oh, dear. That is too bad.
What happened?
He got court-martialled.
- Splendid. - Yeah.
We're hoping to get the contracts for tin hats.
The whole army has to have them.
How nice.
I thought of asking Nanny to knit something,
- you know, mittens and things. - That's a good idea.
We sent a parcel to the chauffeur's son.
Some Benger's Food,
a tinder box, compass
and some nerve tonic.
- How very nice. - Yeah, I thought so.
Do look.
Bleeding Benger's Food and nerve tonic again?
Well, you shouldn't have thanked him for the last lot.
"In the actual battle zone,
"phosphorine gives immediate relief and freedom
"from the severe exhaustion
"and steady loss of nerve force
"which occurs when under constant shellfire."
Hey, what's up with you? Have you got company?
Yeah, you know last time I went down to that delousing station,
all they did was stick a hot iron over my trousers.
I came out with more than I went in with.
You wrote another one, then?
- Yeah. - Well, give us a read of it.
"If I should die, think only this of me
"That there's some corner of a foreign field
"That is forever England There shall be
"In that rich earth a richer dust concealed
"A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware
"Gave, once, her flowers to love
"her ways to roam
"A body of England's breathing English air
"Washed by the rivers blessed by sons of home"
Hey, Mac. Will you listen to that?
Yeah. They're copping it down Railway Wood tonight.
No. That's Hill 60.
No, not that. Listen.
What is it?
Singing.
It's those Welsh bastards in the next trench.
No. That's Jerry.
That's an hymn.
No, it's a carol.
They sing well for a lot of bastards, don't they?
Sing up, Jerry. I cannae hear ye.
Put a sock in it. Let's listen.
Nice, wasrt it?
Very nice, matey!
Hello, Tommy!
He heard you.
Hello!
Eh?
How are you?
I'm very well, thank you.
Good night!
Happy Christmas!
Well, there's another day gone.
- Hey, it's Christmas. - Not today.
Tomorrow, you great goonie.
I forgot it was Christmas.
Tommy! Tommy!
He doesn't give up, does he?
What's the matter?
It is for you now
to sing us a good song for Christmas, ja?
- Ja! - Ja.
Who's going to sing, then?
Give them up one of yours, Garbett.
Aye, give them yours, Ben.
It was Christmas day in the cookhouse
The happiest day of the year
Mers hearts were full of gladness
And their bellies full of beer
When up spoke Private Shorthouse
His face as bold as brass
Saying, 'We don't want your Christmas pudding
'You can stick it up your... '
Tidings of comfort and joy
Comfort and joy
Oh, tidings of comfort and joy
It was Christmas day in the harem
The eunuchs were standing round
And hundreds of beautiful women
Were stretched out on the ground
When in came the bold, bad Sultan
And gazed on his marble halls
Saying, 'What do you want for Christmas, boys? '
And the eunuchs answered...
Tidings of comfort and joy
Comfort and joy
Oh, tidings of comfort and joy
Bravo, Tommy!
English carols is very beautiful.
Hey, Tommy.
Hey, are you still there?
- Aye! - Yeah!
You drink with us, ja?
- Ja! - Ja!
You like some good deutschen Schnaps?
- That's whisky. - Yes!
Sling it over!
Tomorrow we meet you in the middle!
Aye, the middle of Piccadilly.
It's funny to hear them speak in English.
Yeah, well, they learned it all at school, didn't they?
See you in the penalty area!
Happy Christmas!
- Happy Christmas. - Aye, happy Christmas.
Good night, Jerry.
Ta.
Jim?
Cocoa.
Ooch, ta.
Hey, Jack.
Hey!
Hello, Tommy.
About bloody time, too.
That's good stuff, Jerry.
Aye. Thank you very much.
Fritz.
How are you, Fritz?
Merry Christmas.
How's the Kaiser?
Freuter.
How do you do? Hawkins.
Do you know when the war will end?
After our spring offensive, I should think.
- How are your trenches? - Terrible.
Not fit for pigs.
When it rains, we're up to our knees in mud and water.
Arert you sick of the war?
Before the war, I was staying in Suffolk,
and I left there a three-and-one-half horsepower motorcycle.
And also a girl.
Hey, do you hear that?
This chap's got a girlfriend in Suffolk.
You can send her a message,
telling her that I am all right over here.
I mean, I will write name and address for you.
I suppose it's all right.
Cigarette?
Are they Virginian?
Aye. Straight cut.
Ah, nein, danke. I only smoke Turkish.
Have a cigar.
Thank you.
We will not ever shoot again,
unless you start.
Do you hear that?
That will suit us, man, I can tell you.
Here. We'll drink to that.
That is Scottish schnapps.
This is your guns that are shooting?
No. It's the bastard English, not us.
They will not shoot at us while you are here.
Don't believe that, man.
It's us they're shooting at.
Oh, well...
Thanks very much, mate,
and give my love to the Kaiser.
- Morning, sir. - Right. Carry on.
Yes, sir.
Morning, sir.
Well done.
Fraternisation, you call it?
It could be interpreted as treason.
We could have them all shot.
Stop the leaves of all units in any sector where it's happened.
And a happy New Year to you, too.
Come on. Come on, quickly.
Brother Bertie went away
To do his bit the other day
With a smile on his lips
And his lieutenant pips
Upon his shoulder bright and gay
As the train moved out he said
Remember me to all the birds.
Then he wagged his paw and went away to war
Shouting out these pathetic words
Goodbye, goodbye
Wipe the tear, baby dear, from your eye
Though it's hard to part, I know
I'll be tickled to death to go
Don't cry, don't sigh
There's a silver lining in the sky
Bonsoir, old thing
Cheerio, chin-chin
Nap-poo, toodle-oo, goodbye
Brother Bertie went away
To do his bit the other day
With a smile on his lips
And his lieutenant pips
Upon his shoulder bright and gay
As the train moved out he said
Remember me to all the birds
Then he wagged his paw and went away to war
Shouting out these pathetic words
Goodbye
Wipe the tear, baby dear, from your eye
Though it's hard to part, I know
I'll be tickled to death to go
Don't cry, don't sigh
There's a silver lining in the sky
Bonsoir, old thing
Cheerio, chin-chin
Nap-poo, toodle-oo, goodbye
Goodbye
Wipe the tear, baby dear, from your eye
Though it's hard to part, I know
I'll be tickled to death to go
Don't cry, don't sigh
There's a silver lining in the sky
Bonsoir, old thing
Cheerio, chin-chin
Nap-poo, toodle-oo, goodbye
Oh, oh, oh, it's a lovely war
Who wouldn't be a soldier, eh?
Oh, it's a shame to take the pay
As soon as reveille is gone
We feel just as heavy as lead
But we never get up till the sergeant
Brings our breakfast up to bed
Oh, oh, oh, it's a lovely war
Oh, what do we want with eggs and ham
When we've got plum and apple jam?
Form fours, right turn
How shall we spend the money we earn?
Oh, oh, oh, it's a lovely war
Up to your waist in water
Up to your eyes in slush
Using the kind of language
That makes the sergeant blush
Who wouldn't join the army?
That's what we all inquire
Don't we pity the poor civilian
Sitting beside the fire?
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
It's a lovely war
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
It's a lovely war
Who wouldn't be a soldier, eh?
Oh, it's a shame to take the pay
As soon as reveille is gone
We feel just as heavy as lead
But we never get up till the sergeant
Brings our breakfast up to bed
Oh, oh
It's a lovely war
What do we want with eggs and ham
When we've got plum and apple jam?
Form fours
Right turn
How shall we spend the money we earn?
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
It's a lovely
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
It's a lovely
Oh, oh, oh, it's a lovely war
Happy New Year!
Smithey!
Hello, Mavis.
Morning, Sir John.
Oh, Smith. Been wounded, I see.
Yes. Got a blighty one at Mons, sir.
Yes, yes. Well, the wife must be glad to have you home.
I'm not married yet, sir.
Oh, no, no. Of course not. It was your...
Brother, sir.
Jack.
Married Cook's daughter, sir.
Yes. That's right. That's right.
They've got a dear little boy, haven't they?
Yeah. A little girl actually, sir. Emma.
Rest of the family all right?
Well, touch wood, sir.
Got five at the front now, sir.
Well done. Well done.
Nothing like a bit of shooting, eh?
No, sir.
Well, I must be off.
August the 12th tomorrow.
Grouse won't wait. Keep up the good work.
- Yes, sir. - All right, then.
- Everything all right up there, Mavis? - I'm attending to it, sir.
Well, look, come and see me in a month or so.
We might do something about getting your old job back.
- What do you say to that? - Well, if I can't get back to the front, sir,
I think I'd sooner have a job in munitions,
if it's all the same to you, sir.
As you wish...
Jack.
Drive on, Mavis.
That's better.
Right, lads. You can take your masks off now.
Masks off! Stand down!
Not you, Leary.
- Sentry. - Yes, Sarge.
Bombed last night
And bombed the night before
Gonna be bombed tonight
If we never get bombed anymore
When we're bombed
We're scared as we can be
God strafe the bombing men
From higher Germany
They're over us
One shell hole
For just the four of us
Thank your lucky stars
There are no more of us
'Cause one of us
Could fill it all alone
Gassed last night
And gassed the night before
Going to get gassed tonight
If we never get gassed anymore
When we're gassed
We're sick as we can be
'Cause phosgene and mustard gas
Is much too much for me
They're warning us
One respirator for the four of us
Thank your lucky stars
That three of us can run
So one of us can use it all alone
Hey, Sarge.
Right, lads, on your feet! Attention!
It's me cousin Bertie, the only officer in the family.
Have you got the trench consolidated, Sergeant?
All present and correct, sir.
Except we lost Mr Laver, sir.
That's bad.
Major Mallory wants to have a word with the men.
You can stand the men at ease, Sergeant.
Stand at ease!
Shell attack!
On your feet, lads.
Come on! Jump to it!
You can let the men smoke if they want to.
Right, sir.
The major says you can smoke,
but don't let me catch you.
Now, you men,
I've just come from having a powwow with the Colonel.
We think you've done some damn fine work.
We congratulate you.
I know you've had it pretty hard the last few days,
bombs, shells and snipers.
We haven't escaped scot-free back at staff either, I can tell you.
Anyway, we're all here...
Well, not all of us of course,
and that gas of ours was rather nasty,
damn wind changing.
Yes, indeed, sir.
But these mishaps do happen in war,
and gas can be a war-winning weapon.
Anyway, so long as we can all keep smiling,
you're white men all.
Sector all tidy now, Smith?
We've buried most of the 2nd Yorks and Lancs, sir.
Still a few DLI's and the men from our own company left.
I see.
Well, look, let the lads drum up some cha.
- Look out! - Look out, sir!
Good God.
Stretcher bearers!
Stretcher bearers! Stretcher bearers!
You have no stretcher bearers over there?
No. I'm afraid they went in the last attack, sir.
I'm waiting for reliefs from HQ.
Oh, well, they're stout chaps.
Yes. You better let the men keep under cover.
Thank you, sir.
Take cover!
Damn place still reeks of decomposing bodies.
I'm afraid it's unavoidable, sir.
The trench was mainly full of Jerries.
Yes, of course.
You were more or less sharing the same frontline
- for a couple of days, werert you? - Yes, sir.
Oh, well.
- Carry on, Smith. - Thank you, sir.
Ye gods. What's that?
It's a Jerry, sir.
What?
It's a leg, sir.
Well, get rid of it, man.
You can't have an obstruction sticking out of the parapet like that.
Yes, sir.
- Sergeant Smith. - Sir.
Remove the offending limb.
We can't do that, sir. It's holding up the parapet.
Besides, we've just consolidated the position.
Yes, well, you heard what the Major said. Just get a shovel and hack it off.
Right, Bertie, sir.
Where the bloody hell am I going to hang me equipment now?
Right, lads! Brew up!
Get yourselves some cha!
Smithey.
Johnny's regiment's doing rather well for themselves.
Champagne, dear?
Let me give you a glass of wine.
There you are.
Field Marshal Sir John French,
Commander in Chief of the British Expeditionary Force.
Wasrt that Sir Douglas Haig, the new man?
Damned upstart.
That other blighter Robertsors here, too.
Intrigue upon intrigue.
General Sir William Robertson,
Chief of the Imperial General Staff!
Willy, I'm so thrilled
to hear about your new appointment.
One takes these things as they come, you know.
Sir Henry Wilsors green with envy.
Quite.
Talk of the devil.
I've nothing against Robertson personally,
but to make him CIGS is absolute disaster.
I'm sure Haig doesn't think so.
Well, of course he doesn't. Now Haig can do exactly as he likes.
I can see that perfectly well.
General Sir Douglas Haig,
Commander of the British First Army,
and Lady Haig.
Canter in the row before breaffast
- tomorrow morning, Dorothy? - Lovely.
Don't forget the fitting for your new boots, Douglas.
Yes.
By the way,
we're lunching at Number 10,
without Sir John French.
Congratulations, my dear.
It's wise to remember
Haig has powerful friends.
What on earth do they see in him?
Shoots pheasant with the Prince of Wales.
Lady Dorothy was one of Queen Alexandra's
- maids of honour. - Was she?
So now, of course, he has the ear of the King.
Haig?
Sir Douglas Haig. That name's familiar.
Whisky.
Trade?
Afraid so.
Remember Geoffrey? He was Ralph's ADC in Delhi.
Of course.
Excuse me, sir. May I ask Lady Haig to dance?
I should be delighted.
Could we have a few words together, Douglas?
The trouble is that people back here
just don't realise there's a war on.
That's why we need conscription.
Well, I've just volunteered.
Oh, wonderful. Congratulations.
What for?
The VAD.
The uniform is so becoming.
I wish there were more people like you.
I will tell you in confidence, my dear.
His Majesty very much hopes
that my husband will succeed Sir John French.
My God.
Douglas has always felt
that French was quite unsuitable to the position.
What do you think of French's little lady friend?
Rank outsider.
Is she?
He's always been
very generous with the ladies.
I heard he once borrowed rather a lot of money from you.
He was commander of my cavalry brigade at the time.
Damn bad form.
Appalling.
Haig.
Sir John.
Do you know Mrs...
Comrades
Ever since they were boys
Sharing each other's sorrows
Sharing each other's joys
The right man in the right job, if I may say so, sir.
You may. You may. Thank you, my man.
To friends in sunshine and shadow.
- What? What? - Hear, hear.
Well, Douglas,
how did you leave the men at the front?
Oh, in fine heart, sir.
Just spoiling for a fight.
Makes one feel very proud.
Tell me, Douglas,
what do you think of this fellow, Kitchener?
Well, sir...
Yes, yes.
A perfectly howling rotter. You're far too nice to say so.
He's only a damned politician,
and he behaves like some damned generalissimo.
You know he turned up in Paris in his uniform?
My God.
The fellow's got no right to a uniform at all.
I mean, he's Secretary of State for War.
What happened?
Well, it raised some pretty ticklish points of protocol.
We'll have to do something about him.
I mean, he's more dangerous
than the whole of the damned German General Staff.
What?
Johnny.
Mrs...
Johnny.
Excuse me. They're playing my tune.
How did Haig get where he is?
Didrt you tell me he failed the staff college-entrance examinations?
- Duke of Cambridge. - What?
Friend of the family.
Oh, yes, of course.
On her side.
They waived the formalities and let him in.
He's quite bright, though.
Thorough sort of chap.
Ambitious, of course,
but means well.
You off, Henry?
- Afraid so, Douglas. - So soon?
We hope to see you next weekend at Isabel's.
Lovely.
Do come along, dear, or we shall never get home.
- Good night, Douglas. - Good night, Henry.
I'm quite sure we've met before, but I can't remember where.
- Good night, sir. - Good night, Julius.
Frankly, I'm quite looking forward to the new year.
Hurs on his last legs.
- It should all be over in a few months. - Yes.
By the way, Douglas,
pity about that letter to The Times.
After all, you did capture Loos, hmm?
Yes. I could have done with some more support.
Well, I mean, you can always count on mine.
- Good night, my dear. - Good night.
- Good night, Douglas. - Good night, Johnny.
Sir John French's carriage! Sir John French's carriage!
That mars a terrible intriguer.
You've been loyal long enough, my dear.
Well...
Number 10 tomorrow, Dorothy.
And a Field Marshal's job for you.
Sir Douglas Haig's carriage! Sir Douglas Haig's carriage!
Hush.
Here comes a whizzbang.
Hush
Here comes a whizzbang
Now, you soldier men
Get down those stairs
Down in your dugouts
And say your prayers
Hush
Here comes a whizzbang
And it's making straight for you
Look out!
And you'll see all the wonders
Of no-man's-land
If a whizzbang
Hits you
Hush
- Here comes a whizzbang - Here comes a whizzbang
Hush
- Here comes a whizzbang - Here comes a whizzbang
Now, you soldier men
Get down those stairs
Down in your dugouts
And say your prayers
Hush
- Here comes a whizzbang - Here comes a whizzbang
And it's making straight for you
And you'll see all the wonders
Of no-mars-land
If a whizzbang
Hits you
Come on now. Do us a Charlie Chaplin.
Come on. Let's see you do it.
And you'll see all the wonders
Of no-mars-land
If a whizzbang hits you
Gentlemen.
Germany has shot her bolt.
The prospects for 1916 are excellent.
Permission to speak, sir.
Of course.
If we continue in this way,
the line of trenches will stretch
from Switzerland to the sea.
Neither we nor the Germans will be able to break through.
The war will end in complete stalemate.
Nonsense.
We need only one more big offensive to break through and win.
My troops are of fine quality
and especially trained for this type of war.
This is not war, sir. It is slaughter.
God is with us.
It is for King and Empire.
We are sacrificing lives
at the rate of 5,000 to sometimes 50,000 a day.
Intensive bombardment,
superior morale.
Just one more battle.
Sir, tell us what to do, and by God, we'll do it.
We're going to walk through the enemy lines.
Try this one, Dickie.
Cor, this is a good one, Grandpa.
Come on, Dickie, love. They're all the same.
Come on.
Let me look at this one, please.
There's a long, long trail a-winding
Into the land of my dream
Where the nightingales are singing
And a white moon beams
There's a long, long night of waiting
Until my dreams all come true
Till the day when I'll be going...
- Name? - Connor.
- Chellis. - Holland.
- Littman. - Horace.
Complete victory.
The destruction of German militarism.
Victory march on Berlin.
Slow, deliberate fire is being maintained on the enemy positions.
At this moment,
my men are advancing across no-mars-land
in full pack,
dressing from left to right.
The men are forbidden, under pain of court-martial,
to take cover in any shell hole or dugout.
Their magnificent morale
will cause the enemy to flee in confusion.
The attack will be driven home with the bayonet.
I feel that every step I take
is guided by the divine will.
This is most unsatisfactory.
Where are the Sherwood Foresters?
This is the latest position.
- Whisky, sir? - Thank you.
Where are the East Lancs on the right?
Out in no-mars-land.
They're sluggish from too much sitting in the trenches.
Most of them, sir, will never rise again.
We must break through.
Regardless of loss, sir?
The loss of, say, another 300,000 men
may lead to really great results...
We lost 30,000 men before lunchtime yesterday, sir.
...and will not impede our ability to continue the offensive.
In any case, we have to calculate on another great offensive next year.
If the slackers on the home front see it our way, sir.
Quite.
We are rather short of men, sir.
Oh? What's left?
The new chappies from Ireland have just arrived.
I see.
They are a wild, untrained lot.
Still, they'll be raring to have a crack at the Boche.
They've only just got off the train. Most haven't eaten for 48 hours, sir.
They're moving against a weakened and demoralised enemy.
What they lack in training, they'll make up for in gallantry.
Capture the German line without further delay.
I think we made it.
Where are we, Sarge?
I reckon we've broken into a bit of a lull.
Yeah.
Nice, ain't it?
Aye. And peaceful.
Sniper.
I'd keep under cover if I were you.
Trouble is we've been fighting too well.
We've arrived ahead of ourselves.
Yeah.
What's that, Sarge?
What's what?
It's somebody shouting.
Hey, look.
There's some fellow in that shell hole over there.
- Where? - There! Do you see him?
There.
Back!
Come back!
Is it one of our boys?
Can't tell from here. Too far away.
He must have got it in the last attack.
Does he want any help then?
No. He's telling us to get the hell back out of here.
Jesus, that's easier said than done.
You can say that again.
Keep down, Seamus.
- Did you see that one? - It came from our boys!
- Hey, don't shoot! - Don't shoot!
Now look what you've done.
You bloody idiots.
- Seamus. - Sarge.
You're the fastest on your pins.
Nip back to HQ.
Tell the artillery to save their shells for the Jerry,
and tell them to raise their bloody sights a bit.
- Back through all that lot? - Aye, sure.
Why, it's hardly nothing at all.
- Bring us back a couple of wee girls. - Good luck, lad!
Good luck, Seamus!
Well, somebody's got to go.
Come on. Who's next?
- I don't mind, Sarge. - Right.
Tell them there's hundreds of us stranded up here in this ridge.
- And, Driscoll... - Eh?
Watch it.
I'll do that.
Good luck, buddy.
If he's been shot now, I'll kill him.
He has, Sarge.
Well, I think it's best if we all stick together in the one spot.
They've started shelling for the next attack, Sarge!
Sit tight, lads.
We're out of the war now, boys.
Good morning, Mrs Howard.
Been at church today?
Well, I think we'll start.
I don't think we're going to need the umbrellas.
Now, before I talk to you,
I should like to read you a letter
from George Bernard Shaw to my mother.
Aye, aye, aye.
- Does your father know? - He says,
"The men of our country
"are being sacrificed by the blunders of boobies,
"the cupidity of capitalists,
"the ambition of conquerors,
"the lusts and lies and rancours
"of blood thirsts who love the war
"because it opens their prison doors
"and sets them on the throne of power and popularity."
Now give us a song!
For the second time, peace is being offered
to the sorely tired people of the civilised world!
I don't like the title.
At the close of 1915,
President Wilson offered an immediate armistice
to be followed by a peace conference.
Don't think much of the words, neither.
And in April of this year,
Germany herself proposed peace.
How do you know? Got friends over there?
The exact terms of Germany's offer have never been made known to us,
and I should like to ask Lloyd George what his war aims are.
And I should like to ask you what your old man has for dinner.
The politicians chatter like imbeciles while civilisation bleeds to death.
Now you're talking like a traitor.
Pacifists is traitors.
I ask this gentleman...
Don't ask me. I don't know nothing. I'm stupid.
...to consider the plight of the civilised world after another year.
You do not know what you do.
And the statesmen wash their hands of the whole affair.
Why don't you wash your face?
Old Douglas Haig's got them on the run! He's got them going!
Who tells you this?
The newspapers.
Who refuse to publish the pacifist letters,
who distort the facts about our so-called victories.
We are killing off, slowly but surely,
the best in the male population!
Here, don't you address them words to me!
The sons of Europe are being crucified on the barbed wire
because you misguided masses are crying out for it!
- Her boy's at the front! - My boy's at the front!
War cannot be won!
No one can win a war.
Is it your wish this war will go on and on
until Germany is beaten into the ground?
Rule, Britannia Britannia rules the waves
Britons, never, never, never shall be slaves
Rule, Britannia Britannia rules the waves
Britons, never, never, never shall be slaves
I don't want to go to war
I'd rather stay at home
Around the streets to roam
And live on the earnings of a lady typist
I don't want a bayonet in me belly
I don't want me bollocks shot away
I'd rather stay in England
In merry, merry England
And fornicate me bleeding life away
Now, then, my lads, move along there.
No need to make a nuisance of yourselves.
Well, where can we go, eh?
My sister-in-law Flo's place.
Your sister-in-law Flo will talk about food rationing.
Then we go round to the boozer,
and old Charlie will talk about the zeppelins.
Then we go down the street, and I'll say...
I'll say, "What shall we do?"
And you say,
"Let's go to my sister-in-law Flo's place."
And we get down there,
and she'll tell us all about the food rationing.
Then we go round to the boozer for a pint,
and old Charlie...
Oh, I wish I was back with the bleeding battalion!
Parlez-vous
The Sergeant-Major's having a time
Parlez-vous
The Sergeant-Major's having a time
Swinging the lead behind the line
Inky-pinky parlez-vous
It's a hell of a song that we've just sung
Parlez-vous
It's a hell of a song that we've just sung
Parlez-vous
It's a hell of a song that we've just sung
And the fellow that wrote it ought to be hung
Inky-pinky parlez-vous
Oh, the moon shine bright on Charlie Chaplin
His boots are cracking
For want of blacking
And his old baggy trousers want mending
Before they send him to the Dardanelles
Oh, the moon shines bright on Charlie Chaplin
His boots are cracking
For want of blacking
And his old baggy trousers they want mending
Before they send him to the Dardanelles
Parade!
Halt!
Left turn!
Put down arms!
Stand at ease!
Stand easy!
Hey, Corp!
You reinforcements?
Yeah. We're on our way up to Wipers.
Wouldrt go up there if I were you.
They've got a shortage.
What of? Ammunition?
No. Coffins.
Parade, attention!
One staff officer jumped right over another staff officer's back
And another staff officer jumped right over that other staff officer's back
A third staff officer jumped right over two other staff officers' backs
And a fourth staff officer jumped right over all the other staff officers' backs
One staff officer jumped right over another staff officer's back
And another staff officer jumped right over that other staff officer's back
A third staff officer jumped right over two other staff officers' backs
And a fourth staff officer jumped right over the other staff officers' backs
They were only playing leapfrog
When one staff officer jumped right over another staff officer's back
They were only playing leapfrog
When one staff officer jumped right over another staff officer's back
Hello. GOC-in-C here.
Clear the line, please.
Has the 8th Division moved up on the right?
I see. Severe casualties.
No. You must reserve the artillery. We're using too many shells.
Well, where is the 8th Division?
What?
I must have the 8th Division forward on the right.
Thank you.
"70% casualties in the last attack.
"Then there is some corner of a foreign field that is forever England."
Forward Joe Soap's army
Marching without fear
With our old commander
Safely in the rear
He boasts and skites from morn till night
And thinks he's very brave
But the men who really did the job
Are dead and in their grave
Forward Joe Soap's army
Marching without fear
With our old commander
Safely in the rear
Amen
Take up your places! Straight through!
Dearly beloved brethren.
I'm sure you will be glad to hear the news from the home front.
The Archbishop of Canterbury has made it known
that it is no sin to labour for war on the Sabbath.
And I'm sure you would also like to know
that the Chief Rabbi has absolved your Jewish brethren
from abstaining from pork in the trenches.
Likewise, his holiness the Pope has ruled
that the eating of flesh on Friday
is no longer a mortal sin.
- It's high time we had an Irish pope. - You're right.
And in faraway Tibet,
the Dalai Lama has placed his prayers
at the disposal of the allies.
Now, brethren,
tomorrow being Good Friday,
we hope God will look kindly on our attack.
We will now sing from Hymns Ancient and Modern.
Number 358.
The Church's one foundation
We are the ragtime infantry
We cannot fight
We cannot shoot
What bleeding use are we?
And when we get to Berlin
To be his holy bride
And from his lot
What a bloody rotten lot
Are the ragtime infantry
Amen
Let us pray.
O God, show thy face to us
as thou didst with thy angel at Mons.
The choir will now sing What a Friend We Have in Jesus,
as we offer a silent prayer for success in tomorrow's onslaught.
- Amen. - Amen.
When this lousy war is over
What a friend we have in Jesus
No more soldiering for me
All our sins and griefs to bear
When I get my ciwy clothes on
What a privilege to carry
Oh, how happy I shall be
Everything to God in prayer
No more church parades on a Sunday
Oh, what peace we often forfeit
No more putting in for leave
Oh, what needless pain we bear
I shall kiss the Sergeant Major
All because we do not carry
- How I'll miss him - All to God
- In prayer - How he'll grieve
Amen
Well, God,
the prospects for a successful attack are now ideal.
I place myself in your hands.
Land of our birth.
The fields are full of tents, O Lord,
all empty as yet
except for unmade and naked iron bedsteads.
Every ward has been cleared to make way for the wounded
that will be arriving when the big push comes.
The doctors say there will be enormous numbers
of dead and wounded, God.
I ask thee for victory, Lord,
before the Americans arrive.
That we may bring, if need arise,
no maimed or won'thless sacrifice.
O Lord,
now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.
Parade, by squads!
Dismissed!
F squad, attention!
My troop, attention!
Whiter than the whitewash on the wall
Oh, wash me in the water that you wash your dirty daughter in
And I shall be whiter than the whitewash on the wall
On the wall, on the wall
Oh, wash me in the water that you wash your dirty daughter in
And I shall be whiter than the whitewash on the wall
Quick march! Left, right, left, right!
Oh, wash me in the water that you wash your dirty daughter in
And I shall be whiter than the whitewash on the wall
On the wall, on the wall
O Lord, I beg you.
Do not let this dreadful war
cause all the suffering that we have prepared for.
I know you will answer my prayer.
I want to go home
I don't want to go in the trenches no more
Where whizzbangs and shrapnel
They whistle and roar
Take me over the sea
Where the alleyman can't get at me
Oh my, I don't want to die
I want to go home
Take me over the sea
Where the alleyman can't get at me
Oh my, I don't want to die
I want to go home
I thank you, God.
The attack is a great success.
Fighting has been severe,
but that was to be expected.
There has been some delay along the Menin Road,
but the ground is thick with enemy dead.
First reports from the clearing stations state
that our casualties are only some 60,000,
mostly slight.
The wounded are very cheery indeed.
Well, that's the lot, then.
Right. Lead them off, Corporal Smith!
Right. Let's get back to the truck, lads.
Lead on this file.
Forward!
The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling
For you but not for me
And the little devils how they sing-a-ling-a-ling
For you but not for me
Oh death where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling
Oh grave, thy victory?
The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling
For you but not for me
The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling
For you but not for me
And the little devils how they sing-a-ling-a-ling
For you but not for me
Oh death where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling
Oh grave, thy victory?
The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling
For you but not for me
Thank you, sir.
Sir, I've been wondering...
Or rather, the staff and I have been wondering,
perhaps this policy of attrition might be a mistake.
After all, it's wearing us down more than it is them.
Couldrt we increase our efforts on other fronts?
Nonsense. The Western Front is the only real front.
We must grind them down.
You see, our population is greater than theirs,
and their losses are greater than ours.
I don't quite follow that, sir.
In the end,
they will have 5,000 men left and we shall have 10,000,
and we shall have won.
In any case,
I intend to launch one more full-scale offensive.
And we shall break through and win.
Rum ration.
Old soldiers never die
The young ones wish they would
Those poor bastards still moaning out in no-mars-land.
Somebody ought to do something about it.
It's terrible, terrible.
Sounds like a bleeding cattle market.
Right. Wakey-wakey. On your feet.
The order's come through for the attack.
We kick off at 5:00 ack-emma.
Right! Move!
That's a bloody fine time, isn't it?
If the sergeant steals your rum Never mind
Though he's just a bloody sod
Let him take the bleeding lot
If the sergeant steals your rum Never mind
If old Jerry shells the trench Never mind
Though the blasted sandbags fly
You have only once to die
If old Jerry shells the trench Never mind
Right. Come on, lads. Come on.
If you get stuck on the wire
- Never mind - Never mind
If you get stuck on the wire
- Never mind - Never mind
Though the light's as broad as day
When you die they stop your pay
If you get stuck on the wire
Never mind
Oh, never mind
Far far from Wipers, I long to be
Where German snipers can't get at me
Damp is my dugout, cold are my feet
Waiting for whizzbangs to send me to sleep
Sir! 5:00 ack-emma, sir.
- Press the attack immediately. - Sir.
If you want the old battalion
We know where they are
If you want the old battalion
We know where they are
They're hanging on the old barbed wire
We've seen them, we've seen them
Hanging on the old barbed wire
We've seen them, we've seen them
Hanging on the old barbed wire
We've seen them, we've seen them
Hanging on the old barbed wire
We've seen them, we've seen them
Hanging on the old barbed wire
We've seen them Hanging on the old barbed wire
Right! Over the top, boys!
Come on, now, fast as you can! Come on, lads.
'Our counteroffensive commenced this morning.
'Satisfactory progress.
'Yesterday, the King inspected the troops.
'Trouble was
'that the men waved their hats instead of flags
'as His Majesty rode by.
'The King did clutch the reins too firmly... '
Correction.
The King did clutch the reins rather firmly,
no reflection on His Majesty's horsemanship.
The grass was very slippery, and the mare moved backwards.
I'd exercised her every day for a year.
So unfortunate it had to be my horse that threw the King.
They've all gone. They've all been killed.
No, they haven't. They're just under cover.
- Where are you going? - Forward.
It's no use staying here. You've got to keep moving forward.
Look, as soon as the next shell bursts in front of us,
- you follow me into the hole. Right? - Right.
Why don't our gunners do something about that bleeding machine gun?
They are doing something.
They just haven't hit him yet.
Let's have a try with one of these.
I'd like to catch that bleeder who threw that bleeding smoke bomb.
I can't see a bleeding thing.
Far far from Wipers, I long to be
Where German snipers can't get at me
This is the life, eh, Sarge?
Damp is my dugout, cold are my feet
Waiting for whizzbangs to send me to sleep
I must have drawn you in a sweep.
- I've had enough of this. - Yeah, me and all.
Let's get that bleeding machine gun.
- They're just as scared as we are. - All right.
Where do you reckon you're going?
Just to have a crack at that gun, Sarge.
All right. Careful, now.
- I'll give you covering fire. - Right.
- See you after the war, Sarge. - Yeah, at your sister-in-law Flo's place.
- About 8:00. - Make it half-past.
- What? - I might be a bit late!
Right.
You can close the battle of the Somme now.
The final British losses are 607,784 officers and men.
- And the French losses, sir? - They are still to come.
And ground gained, nil.
'Thank you for the copy of The Times.
'I'm glad that in spite of all, it is still a victory.
'lt does not seem so here.
'lt is beyond belief, the butchery.
'The men look so appalling when they are brought in,
'and so many die.'
They were summoned from the hillside
They were called in from the glen
And the country found them ready
At the stirring call for men
Let no tears add to their hardship
As the soldiers pass along
And although your heart is breaking
Make it sing this cheery song
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 cloud inside out
Till the boys come home
Come along, Harry, lad.
Have to move you onto the ground now.
Need the stretcher, see?
There's a casualty list up.
I wonder who's on it.
Excuse me, love.
Hey, there's another Arkwright again.
Oh, I never did.
Hey, Milly, another Arkwright gone.
Yeah. I know her.
- That's three she's lost. - No, four.
No, three.
They're bringing them back at night now.
What is it?
It's just another list, Flo.
- Ethel's boy's just been let out of prison. - Why?
- There's another big push coming. - Oh, never.
Ask Flo. She's in munitions. They're always first to know.
Is that true, then?
It's true. It's starting again.
Don't worry, love, your Jack will be all right.
- Can't go on much longer now, can it? - Of course not.
Must be rotten for you working down there.
- It's not bad. - I wouldn't like it, all those men.
Our old foremars bad enough.
One girl earned £3 last week with overtime.
- Go on. - It's true.
They're paying a fortune.
They need to, after that explosion last week.
Never found nothing of them, did they?
We're going on overtime next week.
What you making?
Big new order's coming.
It's funny stuff, they say it's for shrouds.
- Oh, it makes you shiver. - Milly.
What's that?
It's the Yankees!
Come on.
Over there
Over there.
- Our infantry... - Have the reserves been...
The Yanks are coming The Yanks are coming
The drums rum-tumming everywhere
So prepare, say a prayer
Send the word, send the word to beware
We'll be over, we're coming over
And we won't come back We'll be buried over there
Hello, Ben.
- Who's that, then? - Smithey. Jack Smith.
Hello, Jack.
- One of Jerry's, eh? - Yeah.
Must have thought they were staying.
- How are you, mate? All right? - Fine.
Good to see you.
- What's it like outside? - They're still strafing.
I'm bloody sick of it.
Do you know where we are?
Mons.
First big battle of the war.
We're right back where we started.
Look at that. Wouldrt catch me eating it.
My brother Harry, he was at Mons.
They're bloody starving in Germany, you know?
We both were.
I heard the Germans is going Bolshevik.
That's when he got wounded. First time.
They say the German Navy's mutinied.
There's going to be a revolution. They're just like the Russians.
Right, on your feet. Outside, you lot!
Then he came back again.
Corporal Tanner, he's read this bloke Lenin.
He reckons it's all going to be different.
Well, it's got to be, isn't it?
It stands to reason.
They say the war will end anytime now.
Get your mask on, or you won't live to see it.
Halt!
Right. Come on.
Who the hell are you, then, the unknown soldier?
No, sir, I'm 294, Smith, J.
You'll have to move some. It's 10:58.
You're the last one.
Come on, lad, just follow the tape.
Granny.
Granny, what did Daddy do in the war?
And when they ask us
How dangerous it was
Oh, we'll never tell them
No, we'll never tell them
We spent our pay in some café
And fought wild women night and day
'Twas the cushiest job we ever had
And when they ask us
And they're certainly going to ask us
The reason why we didn't win
The Croix de Guerre
Oh, we'll never tell them
No, we'll never tell them
There was a front
But damned if we knew where
And they're certainly going to ask us
The reason why we didn't win
The Croix de Guerre
Oh, we'll never tell them
No, we'll never tell them
There was a front
But damned if we knew where