My Boy Jack Page #4

Can I eat it now?

- Which you can't eat now.

Secondly, the key to my shed.

My own key?

- Your own key. Do not lose it.

And thirdly,

a list of things to be getting on with.

I want you to read it to me now,

so you'll absolutely know

what's to be done.

One,

oil the chain once a week.

Not too much oil.

Two,

clean the plugs.

I don't know how to.

Which is precisely why

I'm going to show you.

When you come back...

- Yes?

...will you bring me something?

What do you fancy?

- A German shell.

I shall try.

Have you packed your spare glasses?

Yes.

- Show me.

Good.

Jack. You ought to leave.

Coming.

You look so fine.

How did you get those buttons so shiny?

They're like mirrors.

Someone does it for me, that's how.

Don't worry.

Corporal O'Leary will look after me.

Well, I'll blame him then

if anything happens to you.

RUDYARD:
Jack, we're up against it.

I'm off.

I won't come down.

- All right.

Be careful.

- I will.

Bye.

Bye, Bird.

Come on, old man.

Look after yourself.

Go, Jack. Go on.

Thank you.

Good luck.

Bye, Dadda.

Sixteen officers from warley Barracks

have died already.

And Ralph, killed on his first day.

Frightening, a bit.

Of course it is.

You'll be all right.

The sooner I get out there, the better.

- Absolutely.

Bye.

Bye.

Oh, that's a heavy one.

- Thank you, Mrs Kipling.

News from the warrior.

Oh. Let me see.

- How is he?

On good form, actually.

Very wet, but in good spirits.

'Bonjour, old things, plus Bird.

'Just a hurried line

to tell you I am A-1.

'I have never been so fit.

We marched 60 miles in 36 hours.

'It is raining here like Hades.

'Will you send me an oilskin coat,

'one of those black things

that the sailors wear in the North Sea?

'Could you try it on first, Dad?

It must be good and roomy.

'The Germans seem

to be getting into their stride here,

'but we'll be ready.

'Will write again soon

if we ever stop marching.

'Dear love, John.'

ELSIE:
Sixty miles.

He must be exhausted.

Is that thunder?

- It sounds like it.

No, the wind has changed.

It's from the south.

From France.

I'd rather go over the top

than examine your feet...

...three times a week, Bowe.

Oh, my feet are delightful.

I wouldn't mind the gangrene setting in,

then they'll be after whisking me away

to a nice, warm hospital bed.

DALY:
Jesus. I bet there's creatures

in there having the meal of their lives.

Look at this, sir.

That must hurt.

- It does, sir.

Is it the trench foot?

- No.

No, the foot's a good colour.

Will you powder me, Doyle?

F*** off.

- Bring it here.

Thank you, sir.

Oh, Jesus Christ, that feels good.

Oh, Jesus, that's lovely.

Jesus, I've just had a terrible image

of you in bed with your wife, Bowe.

McHUGH:
Jesus f***.

BOwE:
Mother of God, that was close.

Any sign of Jerry?

- None, sir.

Your feet are important to me, Bowe.

I want them fit to dance

a victory jig in the German trenches.

To Jack.

We're thinking of you, old man.

It would be a happier birthday

if you were here with us at Bateman's.

But we're awful proud,

and wish you all the luck in the world.

Happy birthday, Jack.

Happy birthday, Jack.

- Happy birthday, Jack.

# Happy birthday to you...

...# Happy birthday to you...

...# Happy birthday,

dear Lieutenant Kipling...

...# Happy birthday to you #

Thanks, boys.

I've a birthday present

for you, Kipling.

When do we go over, sir?

- Tomorrow morning.

7:
30.

Hobdon suggests we grow a white cabbage

called Holland Late during the winter.

Apparently, it's the only brassica

that will stand the journey.

Do you agree? Rud?

I'm sorry, I wasn't...

- It's not important.

Do you want a story?

- No, thank you.

JACK:
Dear old things, plus Bird,

funny to think

one will be in the thick of it tomorrow.

One's first experience

of shellfire in the open.

It is great luck that my first action

should be such an important one.

You have no idea what enormous issues

depend on the next few days.

If we succeed,

the war won't go on for long.

We won't have any time for writing,

so this may be my last letter

for some time.

So long, old dears. Dear love, John.

Ten minutes, O'Leary.

O'LEARY:
Ten minutes.

Check your weapons.

Chins up, lads.

- SOLDIER:
Gas masks.

I can't get this strap over.

McHugh, help me get the strap over.

McHugh.

- F*** off, Bowe.

Jesus Christ, my gun's blocked.

Sh*t, there's mud in the barrel.

Oh, God, I've got to clean it out.

Come on, come on, come on.

Don't piss in my direction,

you filthy bastard.

Don't be pointing

that scabby cock at me.

Sh*t, sh*t, come on.

I've been shitting and pissing all day

and now I can't go.

Listen, when you go over,

you will see Chalk Pit wood

500 yards ahead of you.

Advance straight for the trees.

5 Platoon has been instructed

to take pigeon baskets.

It is of A-1 importance...

...that you hold on to these

until you get to the German trenches.

McHUGH:
What are they for, sir?

When you reach the enemy trenches,

you will release your pigeon.

It will then fly back to HQ,

and senior officers will be alerted

that we have done our job.

Two minutes.

How are you supposed to climb out

of the trench, let alone f***ing run?

Sir?

What?

- Sir, my pigeon's dead, sir.

What?

- My pigeon's dead, what shall I do?

How do you know it's dead?

It's lying at the bottom of the basket,

sir, it's not moving.

Oh, for God's sake.

Do I have to take the basket across,

sir, if the pigeon's dead?

Well, no, if you're sure it's dead,

then, no, of course not.

So I dump the basket, then?

- Yes, just dump the bloody basket, Bowe.

One minute.

Fix bayonets.

Oh, mother of God.

I can't do it, my fingers won't work.

Thank you, sir.

Front rank, about turn.

Telegram, Mr Kipling.

Thank you very much.

No, no, no.

Was that the post?

No.

- He is not dead.

Jack.

- He is missing.

Believed wounded.

He might not be seriously hurt,

he may very well have

strolled into HQ by now,

and he may have got lost. That happens

fairly frequently, you know.

We should have stopped him.

ELSIE:
I'm back.

Hello.

- Hello, Bird.

Complete success.

One spare Orilux battery,

one edition Tatler.

And, this will please him,

one pair of good bedroom slippers.

He's been killed?

- No.

No, he's missing.

Missing?

Believed wounded.

He'll come home, then.

He'll be fine.

RUDYARD:
Bird.

Why did you let him go?

I didn't let him go.

He went because he wanted to.

You've missed the point.

God, you just... You've no idea.

Don't you realise

he didn't give a damn about your cause?

The reason he went

to get his head shot off...

...was to get away from us.

To escape this dark, depressing house.

To be rid of us. To be rid of home.

What does that do

to your theories, Father?

Is that...

Is that reason enough to fight?

Is that an honourable sacrifice, is it?

Is it?

I don't think so.

Ten columns of British infantry

attacked along a six and a...

I'm sorry I'm late.

We were just discussing

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