Journey's End Page #3

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Tell Mr Raleigh to step up,

Sergeant Major.

Yes, sir.

(TELEPHONE RINGING)

OFFICER:
Yes, sir.

I'll put you through.

Good morning, Stanhope.

Sir.

Take a pew.

(TELEPHONE RINGING)

D Company's German deserter.

He says the attack's coming the 21st.

Thursday. Day after tomorrow.

Once it does come, we can't expect

much support from behind.

No reinforcements, sir?

You're to stay where you are for

as long as you can. Slow them down.

As long as we can, sir?

Our orders are to stay put.

Let them come to us.

And that's it, sir?

That's it.

Cheerio, Stanhope.

Cheerio, sir.

Send in Captain Willis, will you?

Sir.

Captain Willis.

Stand down!

SERGEANT MAJOR:
Stand down!

Stand down!

Well done, men. Well done, Evans.

(LAUGHTER)

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

There you go, sir.

Right.

Uh, thank you, Turner.

Need me to teach you how to shave, lad?

(LAUGHTER)

Can you smell that? Eh?

Nothing like a fat rasher of bacon

when you're famished.

Come on, Mr Raleigh.

Right.

TROTTER:
Bacon, Mason!

Bread, sir.

Thank you.

Pass the jam, please, Raleigh.

OSBORNE:
It's strawberry.

Mmm.

MASON:
There you go.

Glad we polished off the raspberry.

All the pips were getting stuck

behind me plate.

That's me. I'm done.

Cheery soul.

Mmm.

You know, I feel like

I've been here ages

and we've still another five days to go.

It's funny to think of the Boche

being so close.

OSBORNE:
Yes. About the

width of a rugby field.

What, do you play?

No.

Well, I used to.

Mostly reffing at school

these last few years.

You were a schoolmaster?

I don't mind schoolmasters.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

I used to play for the Harlequins.

No!

Mmm. And England on one occasion.

You played for England?

Shh. It was a long time ago.

Don't breeze about it.

Don't any of the others know?

Doesn't really make

much difference out here.

Well, I should write a letter

to my sister.

(HIBBERT TREMBLING)

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

This coming Thursday.

The 21st?

Mmm-hmm.

My birthday's on the 22nd.

I'm sure the Boche

have taken that into account.

Well, all me parcels will be delayed.

That's if anyone

still loves you, Trotter.

Sergeant Major's got the men

preparing the wire.

When they've done all along the front,

I want them putting a belt

down both sides.

Both sides?

If this attack comes,

I'm not going to trust A and B Companies

to hold their ground on either flank.

Right.

When's it expected?

Thursday.

Huh.

It's odd.

I'm glad it's coming, at last.

Sick of waiting.

We'll get no help from behind.

We're not to budge.

I see.

Yes?

Perhaps you'd like some sardines, sir?

I should loathe it.

Very good.

Day after tomorrow.

F***.

OSBORNE:
Stanhope?

(CROCKERY CLATTERS)

Mason?

Bit early, but it's damn cold.

See any shows

when you were last on leave?

Uh, well, wish I had now.

Spent all of my time in the garden

working on the rockery.

Your wife must have been thrilled.

Well, Joan and I and the boys

pretended there wasn't a war on.

It was great.

I'm going to inspect my rifles now.

Where shall we put letters?

Oh, just put it on the table

for the quartermaster.

Leave it open.

I have to censor all letters.

It's the rule.

Give me that letter.

It's private.

Do you understand an order?

Now go and inspect your rifles.

Sir.

OSBORNE:
Do you know what?

I'll join you.

For God's sake, Stanhope.

Osborne, I'm commanding this company.

You cannot read his letters!

Well, then you read it.

I don't want to.

Oh, it's nothing.

It just describes how he got here.

No place names. All the usual stuff.

Read it.

All right.

"I was taken along some trenches

and reported to C Company.

"A nice officer greeted me.

Older. Second in command.

"And then there he was,

Captain Stanhope, MC.

"Tired because he works so hard,

"because of all the responsibility."

That's enough.

"The other officers told me

all about him,

"the finest officer

in the whole battalion."

Would you like me to seal this now?

Excuse me, sir. CO needs

to see you at HQ, sir. Right away.

I can smell the whisky on you, Stanhope.

You need to steady on.

Will that be all, sir?

The brigadier's been to see me.

He wants us to make a raid,

to find out how many

have come into the line opposite.

When?

Tonight.

That's absurd.

It is.

Which is what I told the brigadier.

So he's agreed to

tomorrow afternoon instead.

Afternoon?

A surprise daylight raid

under a smokescreen.

Two officers. Ten men.

Tonight we'll mortar some holes

in the Boche wire

and cut some holes in our own.

Harrison from trench and mortars

is coming for dinner at 8:00. Join us.

Very well, sir.

I want one officer to direct the raid

and one to make the dash in

to collar some Boche.

Do you want me to go with them, sir?

No, I can't let you go.

Well, whom do you suggest, sir?

Osborne. He's level-headed.

He can direct the raid.

Who else?

Well, Trotter can't cut a dash. Hibbert?

I don't think so.

Why not send a good sergeant, sir?

The men expect officers to lead a raid.

How about that youngster

sent up to you last night?

He's a bit new to it all.

All to the good. His nerves are steady.

He's only just arrived, sir.

Well, who else is there?

Do you like fish?

Fish, sir?

We're having some fish

sent up fresh from railhead for supper.

Carry on.

OSBORNE:
No need to worry

about the wood, Mr Raleigh.

Just the bolt, magazine and barrel.

Take over.

RALEIGH:
Right.

(GUN CLICKS)

Clean as a whistle, Private.

Marvelous.

I'm afraid I can't stick it any longer.

Rotten, isn't it? I've got it like hell.

Really?

Had it for weeks.

(STAMMERING) Well, I'm sorry,

but I need to go down.

I need to go to the hospital, I need

to get some sort of treatment.

You're staying here.

I'm going to see the doctor.

He'll only send you back.

Save yourself the walk.

But I have a right to go sick.

If the men can, why can't I?

You're going to stay here

and you're gonna see it through

with the rest of us.

The pain's driving me mad.

You can't stop me.

Get off!

(HIBBERT GROANS)

STANHOPE:
Sit!

(HIBBERT GRUNTS)

Stay!

I could have you shot for desertion,

but I'd rather spare you that disgrace.

You wouldn't dare.

Oh, really?

I'll give you half a minute to find out.

Twenty seconds.

Ten.

Five.

(SOBBING)

All right.

Okay. All right.

Shh.

(GROANS SOFTLY)

I am never going up those steps.

The men looking at me.

Knowing.

I'd rather die here.

Please.

I know how you feel.

How can you know?

Because I feel exactly the same.

Every little noise up there

makes me feel sick.

I loathe it.

Sometimes I wish I could just get

into bed and pretend I'm paralyzed.

Just lie there until I die.

What does it matter?

They have sent us here to die.

Suppose you are knocked out?

You won't have

to bear this hell any more.

But don't you think it's worth

standing in with men like Osborne?

Trotter?

They all feel like we do.

They do.

But they stick at it.

It's the only thing a decent man can do.

You won't tell anyone

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