The Lost Patrol Page #3

They want the gory details,

you know, color.

What their minds will run to

is far more exciting than

what actually happened.

Brown!

I want a word with you.

- Go ahead.

- I would rather...

In a way, I would rather have spoken

to you in private, but that'd be cowardly.

I will say it in front of these...

I will say it in spite of...

Bub, what's all this for?

It's for your sake, for you.

Oh, Brown, I implore you to listen.

Is your whole life

so filled with filthy drunkenness...

brawling and lust, that here now...

perhaps close to your death...

the only thing left for you to do

is to live it all over again in your mind?

Oh, pack up. It's too hot to listen.

- But Brown...

- And don't shout so.

Brown, you're a gentleman,

you've got breeding.

You must have faith.

Why?

Why?

In heaven's name, man,

what do you believe in?

What do I believe in?

Would it really interest you?

Oh, a lot of things.

A good horse...

steak and kidney pudding...

a fellow named George Brown...

the asinine futility of this war...

being frightened...

being drunk enough to be brave...

and brave enough to be drunk.

The feel of the sea when you swim,

the taste and strength of wine...

the loveliness of women, the splendid,

unspeakable joy of killing Arabs...

the smell of incense and bacon,

the weight of a fist...

an old pair of shoes,

toothache, triumph...

Stop!

All right.

Oh, you're barmy, soapy.

Shut your trap. Leave us alone.

- Hey, hey...

- Hey, wait a minute.

You leave him alone, Abelson.

He can't help it.

You're more offensive than he is.

- What's that?

- I said, you're offensive.

Abelson! Abelson, take it easy.

Oh, go on. You're nothing but

a second-rate, broken-down, heavyweight.

If I have to get to my feet,

you're gonna regret it.

- Get to your feet.

- No, no!

- Brown, no!

- Hey, wait a minute, come here!

Take it easy!

Brown! Abelson!

Put on those topis.

Sanders, come here.

You're supposed to be

looking after Corporal Bell.

Get inside.

I wanna talk to you, men.

Sorry, Sergeant, about that scrap.

Must have been the heat.

- Sorry, Abelson.

- All right.

Well, what do you think

of our chances here?

Well, I think the position

is extremely dubious.

- Now, what do you think?

- Well, I'll tell you what I know.

Nothing.

I don't know where we are.

I don't know where we're going.

I don't even know where the brigade is.

It's my fault. It's me.

I told you I was a Jonah.

Bad luck, that's me.

Bad luck, if you say so.

Of course, our horses are pinched.

That's Arabs.

What's your opinion, McKay?

How many out there?

Well, we examined the tracks

of the horses. There's not many.

- That's just what I think.

- How so, Sergeant?

Well, if there'd been more than a few...

they'd have rushed us in force

and wiped us out.

- Aye.

- That's true.

How about stalking out somewhere

on foot, Sergeant?

With our rifles,

and fighting it out tonight.

And leave the Corporal here alone?

How would you carry

him without horses?

How would you carry enough water

for a long march?

We've gotta stick here and

take our chances of being relieved.

We've got water, we've got dates.

But first we've gotta see.

You think you can see everything

in the desert, but you can't.

Hardly a thing out there.

We've gotta see for miles.

Sergeant, how about me climbing to the

top of that palm tree and having a look?

I could see from there to Bloomsbury.

- That's it.

- Go on, Hale. I'll help you.

All right. Let's go.

That's a boy!

Come on, old boy.

Hey.

A little bit of how's-your-father.

Will you all mind?

Right. Coming up.

- See anything?

- Can't see what I'm looking for...

Molly's red hat on the dock.

Are you sure it's the red hat

you're looking at?

If she has a friend with her,

let me know, will you?

Half a mile. I see something.

It's moving.

Looks like the sun

shining on a rifle barrel.

- Where?

- Right over there, behind that dune.

Right over there, in the shadow.

Look out! Clear!

Hale, Hale, Hale.

Right through the head.

See here, men.

There's a strip of paper in here

for each one of us, except Sanders.

I'm leaving him out of it.

All right with you?

There's one of them longer

than the others...

and the man that gets it,

picks his mate and slogs out

for the river tonight.

It's our only chance.

We've gotta get help.

Anybody object to doing it that way?

No? All right.

Here they go.

Now, keep it as it is. Don't unroll it.

I'll draw the last.

Abelson.

Morelli.

All right, unroll them.

- It's up to you now, Cook.

- Aye.

Relieve Morelli.

Come on, choose your sidekick.

- Who would it be, but myself.

- No, no, Michael. You are too late.

If Matlow goes, I go with him.

- He'll need my knowledge of soldiering.

- What did you say about soldiering?

- Well, in my 25 years of service...

- And what about my 27?

Three of them in the guardroom.

The guardroom?

Boys, did you hear that?

The guardroom.

Listen, Jock, to your teeth,

that's a dirty red lie.

Forget it, forget it.

Brown, flip a coin. You decide.

Have you got a shilling?

Oh.

Eenie, meenie, miney, mo,

catch a boodoo by his toe...

if he hollers, let him go,

eenie, meenie, miney, mo.

Now, that settles it.

McKay, you go with Cook.

And you better get your gear together.

Take all the water bottles, except two.

You'll leave tonight

when the moon is down.

Aye.

Oh...

by the way...

they might not...

There's a chance

they might not get back in time.

Now what I mean to say is...

if any of you fellows

want to scribble a few lines...

I've no objection of

McKay taking them along.

Remember, Jock...

- keep to the north all the time.

- Right.

Head to the river

and you'll find the brigade.

Here's some letters.

Morelli's, Quincannon's, Sanders'.

Here's mine.

I didn't know that, Sergeant.

You're a man to be envied.

- Thanks.

- Well, Matlow, here we go.

Goodbye to you, Sergeant.

We'll be sending along for you shortly.

We'll be looking for you.

- Say goodbye, Jock, old scout.

- Goodbye.

And have a couple of pints for me

when you get there.

So long, Jock.

No sweating on the way.

- Good luck, Jock.

- I'll try, Michael.

- See you.

- Bye.

- How you feeling, Abelson?

- Oh, I'm all right.

Only it's so blooming hot...

I'm sweating worse than

when the sun was up.

Want me to take your

turn at sentry-go?

I'm not asking any favors.

I'll do my part.

Well, you'll be relieved pretty soon.

Keep your topi on, son.

- What's up?

- Abelson. Look.

Over and beyond Abelson.

See that moving there?

200 yards.

Blank fire and keep firing.

Hey!

He's moving.

Morelli! Come back, you fool.

Come back!

Morelli, you fool. Come back.

Come on, cover him up. Rapid fire.

You mustn't go. Don't go.

Sergeant. Sergeant! Corporal Bell!

Oh, Father.

Father of mercy.

Sergeant!

- What's up?

- Something moving out there.

Right back of that dune.

Turn out!

Horses.

Get ready.

Let them have it.

Wait, they're not Arabs.

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