How I Won the War Page #4

One, have we got enough to get

to the oasis - which we will - is a point?

Two days, Corporal of Musket.

Two, dip for remaining fuel,

Corporal Dooley.

What's this?

That's a coward, sir.

We were bound to have one.

You can tell by the sweat

and the mess on his uniform.

- Not a pretty sight, is he, sir?

- He's taking all his clothes off.

Now, stop this. That.

- Will you take my horse, sir?

- (canned laughter)

Take no large notice, sir.

He is working what is known as ticket.

It keeps the lads amused.

Pick those bits up, Gripweed.

- Where's your tin hat, Juniper?

- Losing by neglect, sir.

If I catch you without it again,

I'll ram it down your throat.

Losing one mess tin.

- Did you have your name on it?

- Scratched on.

- Pull these men together.

- Scratched on?

- Scored it.

- You disfigured government property?

Six days Royal Warrant.

March him off, Musket Major. Two men.

You ought to camouflage up, sir,

or get the scrim up if you're stopping.

Us in our vest are exposed

to all manner of nastiness.

I'm going to explode, but I won't.

I think the roller, don't you?

- Bayonet. Where's your bayonet?

- Must have left it sticking in the enemy.

- Where's your spur?

- Left it in the horse.

- Two men.

- (canned laughter continues)

- There, on the end of my finger.

- Finger?

- Musketeer Juniper, where's your finger?

- Left it up the Khyber Pass.

Self-inflicted injury.

March him off, Musket Major. Wait for it!

Two men.

I'm going away. I'm going

to walk a few paces backwards.

And I'm going to take a bearing,

out of earshot.

I am... right now.

Me. And when I get back,

I want that man in there out of there...

where I command from,

with all his clothes on.

And I want the roller

limbered up for moving.

With all his clothes on.

PDQ.

- That's a relief.

- That's a relief.

Excuse me, sir. Sorry, sir.

That's a relief.

Two men.

Mount!

- It's for your own good, lad.

- Let me out.

Let me out.

- Will you put this on?

- No. Bloody let me out.

I wish I had 20 like you, Corporal Dooley.

Do you think you ought to go sick?

Driver, advance.

(theme from "Lawrence Of Arabia")

Get your cable out, Gripweed.

Get this half-track back.

Drogue, records

for the regimental magazine.

Right reverse. Come on.

Back, back, back, back. Right!

Come on, hitch it on.

Cable attached, Gripweed?

Right, forward.

Sorry, the gears look all alike.

Smile, please.

- That's a relief.

- That's a relief.

Dig the officer out.

(theme from "Lawrence Of Arabia")

- Brew-up, sir?

- I think so, yes.

Can you read a map, Corporal of Musket?

This is the Via Balbia.

Now, there is where...

There... we get our petrol from.

- We take it from a German petrol dump.

- Very good, sir.

That man, stand still.

- Clapper.

- Me?

You're improperly dressed.

- Best boots in for repair, sir?

- Do your button up, lad. You're idle.

- Oh, ta.

- Entertaining the troops.

My wife - large girl - works in a caff.

Biggest chips in the business.

There have been

too many unwounded prisoners taken.

Don't let it happen again.

Cut your throats next time.

Talking of throats, my wife. I took her

to the station to see the engines shunt.

Christmas, lovely girl, do you know

what she had in her stocking?

Legs, all the way up.

- He's mad.

- No, he's not, sir.

Working his ticket. It's inevitable.

You, when you find yourself surrounded

by the enemy with no hope of survival,

you must organise yourself

into a defensive locality and hold out.

I will.

By doing so, you will add enormously

to the enemy's difficulties.

I'd like to add to the enormous enemy...

I've never been a bother.

You will also save yourself spending

the rest of the war years in the bag.

I mean, the box. Prisoner-of-war camp.

Sitting there, going... (repeated ticks)

Let us go into the ring

in this, our first round,

with the light of battle in our eyes and

the strength of the righteous in our hearts.

- He's not mad.

- Yes, he is, sir.

Keep the first three rows for the officers.

- Sir. Tea, sir? Thank you, sir, tea, sir.

- (Juniper) Take my wife.

You, the commanding officer! You look

as if you're suffering from bottle fatigue.

- The man's mad, eh?

- No, he's not, sir.

Working his ticket.

Put him somewhere, he might cop one.

- I want to fight.

- Good lad.

Is that a linear belt? It's very nice.

Yes, well. Put some clothes on

and we'll see, eh?

Ah! This damn sand.

When will it ever end?

You see, the thing about fighting

a desert war is that it is a clean war.

Without brutality. Clean-limbed, without

dishonourable actions on either side.

Number 18, concerning the weather.

What wretched, filthy, glorious,

disappointing weather we are having.

And there are no civilians in the desert.

Except me. I'm a civilian.

But what am I then?

Well, try as I may, I can't see you

queuing for a number eight bus,

jingling your fourpence.

That's because I'm German.

(speaking German)

I think you are a civilian.

Yes, certainly I am.

Don't be put off by the clothes we wear.

We only wear these for fighting in.

I expect I've grown out

of my Harris tweeds by now.

Putting it that way, I think we all are.

Yes, I think underneath

we are all blameless.

- Hey, Franz, you are a civilian.

- A civilian?

"Thank Christ for that" he said,

laying down his rifle and going home,

so helping to perpetuate the dangerous

myth that soldiers don't like war.

Which they do.

It's a strange thought to think that this will

be the last world war fought by civilians.

I find it strange.

It'll make a nice change

to stick a bayonet into a chap

rather than a rotten old sandbag.

You'll be all right, lad.

I'm not going. Let him nick his own petrol.

I've got a young wife.

(all mutter)

- Now, see, lads, there's more to it, eh?

- (discontent increases)

There's lots of satisfaction

to be had out of the anticipation.

There's lots of fun and letting off steam.

It's not all death.

There's lots of fun to be had

out of other things as well.

Now, come on, let's take a look at you.

- (clamour)

- Hang on a minute.

Can't let you down

with dirty nails, can we?

Right. Crews front. Get fell in.

(shouting)

- Don't say or tell them anything.

- My wife is young.

If you say anything, whisper,

so they won't know.

- Happy, shed a tear, entertained.

- I haven't got a wife yet. I've never done it.

I'll stick my bayonet up the jacksy of

the first who talks loud of love and wives

and children - I've got children.

I play the piano.

I'm not fighting this war for them.

Now, then, first one to look wonky

will get my boot up his dirtbox.

I die now in North Africa.

I've been crying, telling you.

Don't ask, don't threaten,

don't plead, keep it shut.

- I'm not a thief.

- Now, then, you're all clean for gangrene.

Don't loose me down. If we should be

stonked, get away from the vehicles.

I want to see you back here,

clean, bright and spent.

Keep it wrapped, don't do anything I

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