The Way Ahead Page #3

---

your train is leaving from Platform 7.

Left right, left right, left right,

left right, left right left!

All right, jump down, lads.

I'll be back in a minute.

Doesn't seem such a bad bloke.

They've got to be nice

when you're in civvies.

Look at this.

Breathe natural, that's the idea.

- Barbarian.

- Hey, look.

Keep those knees up.

Nice big strides. Feel the benefit.

Come on! Pick 'em up.

Are you the new intake? That's right.

Nice tall fella should do well at PT.

Stand up, now. Let's see a smile.

Make the best of yourself.

Come on, stand up, son.

And look me straight in the eyes.

That's right. You look a bit weedy

at the moment. So do you.

Too much town life. We'll

soon build you up.

Smile, nice smile. That's right.

Come on, what's the matter with you, lad? Get

a haircut first thing, make you feel better.

And that's an order.

Go on, you've only been four miles.

Ought to feel fresh as a daisy!

Look out, my lucky lads.

I'm coming after you!

Right! Pay attention!

Then after I got back from Dunkirk I was sent to

the training battalion as a Sergeant Instructor,

- then to the Officers Training Unit.

- Our job is to get up to strength again.

We'd hoped for trained men, but we've got

civilians whether we like it or not.

Some came in last week.

30 more expected today.

You'll be looking after them. I expect

you'll get pretty fed up with them at first.

They won't seem as... keen as you are.

Then one day, you'll find you've got a platoon

of some of the finest infantry in the world.

I don't know how it happens, but it does.

Oh, Edwards.

- Sir?

- This is Perry.

- Hello. Very glad to have you.

- Thank you, sir.

You're lucky.

You might have gone to another company.

Perry was in France with

the 12th Battalion.

- NCO?

- Sergeant, sir.

Oh, has the depot sent

you your sergeant yet?

Due this afternoon, sir. Fletcher.

Regular with seven years' service.

- Let me know what you think of him.

- Right, sir.

Right, Perry. I'll leave Captain

Edwards to look after you.

Sir.

- I'm giving him No.9 platoon, sir.

- Fine.

I can feel my rheumatics coming back again.

You'll have to get rid of those

before we start on these courses.

Jumping ditches of broken glass

with bullets whistling by.

- How do you know?

- Picture Post.

I can't understand it.

The Government puts broken glass

on top of walls to protect its property,

then trains blokes to get across it

at its own expense.

At our expense, man. We're just cogs in a

great machine. We pay for our own discomfort.

These living conditions

are most insanitary.

Not if we keep the doors and windows open.

- I can't sleep with the windows open.

- How is your stomach?

- Acute.

- Mm. That'll be the worry.

That's your bowels. Driving my tractor

for a week would put it right for ye.

- What, are you a farmer, then?

- I wouldn't be here if I was.

I worked on a farm, though.

They have a lassie doing my job now.

She's better-looking than me

but not for that kind of work.

What else did it say in Picture Post?

Oh, yes. When you come to the barbed wire,

one fellow lays across it

and all the others run over his back.

- Oh, shut up, can't you?

- I'm only telling them.

Battle training they call it. Just to get you

used to things. Real live bullets they use, too.

Well, I won't be shot at merely to gratify

some oafish, military whim.

Then there are these bayonet charges.

Three miles long, uphill.

They make you run all the way, too.

And then you go swinging from tree to tree

on ropes. You know, Tarzan-fashion.

- Should be interesting.

- Oh, turn it up!

You don't know what you're

talking about, Beck.

What have you got to smile about, Lloyd?

Oh, nothing.

What a tragedy it all is.

I'll get my lumbago back again at this rate. I

didn't ought to be in the Army. Not really.

Any day now. Ha!

Lumbago.

Don't they give us sheets

as well as blankets?

Not in the Army. They do in the RAF.

I'd never have believed that in a civilised

country, doctors would permit...

All right, stop talking.

Now, pay attention.

Now, you're going to be No.9 Platoon.

Mr Perry will be your officer

and I'm your sergeant.

Fletcher's my name.

Sergeant Fletcher. Got it?

Now, I'm used to having the best platoon in

the battalion and I'm going to have it again.

This is the programme. You can take it easy

tonight but no leaving the camp.

There'll be hot supper served for you

at seven. The canteen's open till nine.

Lights out at ten. Corporal Robbins

will tell you about the blackout.

Tomorrow you'll be issued with your kit and get

inoculated. On Monday we start work proper.

Got it?

Right. Let's have your names.

- Davenport.

- Right. Yes?

Parsons, sir.

- Your name?

- Beck, Sergeant.

- And yours?

- Lloyd.

You?

Stainer.

Yes?

Luke.

Yes?

Brewer.

Yes?

Truscott.

Squad will advance! About... turn!

Leave it, leave it. I'll tell

you when to pick it up.

Squad, stand at ease!

That man in the front rank there. Stainer.

Corporal, put him in the

correct ease position.

Feet 12 inches apart, stomach in,

arms straight. Brace yourself.

All right, Corporal.

Squad, 'shun.

As you were! Wake up!

What's your name? Daventry?

- Davenport.

- You're too slow, five minutes behind.

Think what you're doing. And you, too.

And you, Lloyd, wait for the

word of command before you move.

- Look to your front!

- Officer coming.

All right, Corporal. Fall in. Pick it up.

Squad, 'shun.

- Stand at ease, please.

- Sir.

Squad, stand at ease.

- What's your name?

- Truscott, sir.

Stand to attention.

- Take these names for the tailor.

- Sir. Look to your front.

Do you think you're going to

enjoy the Army, Truscott?

Well, I put down for the Navy, sir.

- Your name?

- Lloyd, sir.

Go on. Stand at ease.

This is far too big.

Keep those trousers well hitched up.

Yes, sir.

- What's your name?

- Herbert Davenport, sir.

- What's the trouble with the boots?

- They're a little tight in the toe, sir.

- I've rather a high instep.

- What was your job before you came here?

Rather an important one, actually, sir.

I was in charge of three departments

at Burbages, including officers' kit.

Too big, Sergeant Fletcher.

And the trousers are a

little loose in the seat.

- Your name?

- Parsons, sir.

Filth! What do you think a barrack

inspection is? A joke? Lay it out proper.

You've got another five tons to shift yet.

Come on! You'll do it properly

if I have to keep you here all night.

Six men to scrub out the cookhouse.

You, you, you, you, you. And you.

Eyes right!

Wake up, that man!

No, you can't have 48 hours.

You've only been in a month.

This isn't a holiday camp.

Stand up! Pick up that step!

You six are detailed for

guard tonight. Got it?

This is a life, isn't it, eh?

A child of three doesn't take as much pleasure

in making a noise as Sergeant Fletcher.

It's just like I said. Putting us under guys like

that, it's criminal. Two guards in one week.

- No, 13 days it is.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes