The Way Ahead Page #4

---

- Oh, shut up.

Who was it made him turn nasty

in the first place, spilling his tea?

- He'll soon change his tune.

- Who's going to make him?

- I am.

- When?

- Soon as I know my way around a bit.

- When'll that be? Ten years' time?

We've only done six weeks so far.

Will you look at that spud!

- Throw it away.

- Here, don't throw a perfectly good spud away.

You're a nuisance, you are.

I don't see how Fletcher

could have remembered us all.

- I had my back to him.

- It's just like I said in the first place. The Army!

- Hey, that man!

- Hello, what's that?

That man!

Take those hands out of your pockets.

Yes, you!

There's no parade. Hark at him shouting.

Cad.

You'd think he'd know those

letters off by heart.

I don't seem to get any letters.

Come on. You're not getting out of it.

We're saving yours.

I'm going to shoot that rat

the day we get live ammo.

What was all the shouting?

I'm walking back from the lats, quietly,

committing no offence.

All at once I feels my nose running, so my

hand goes to my pocket to get the hankie out.

Next thing I hear is his voice yelling at

me across the square from the other NAAFI.

"Take your hands out of

your pocket, that man."

"That man!"

You wouldn't think we was human beings.

You can't blow your nose now!

- There. I warned you, didn't I?

- You did, Geoffrey.

It would have been the same if we hadn't spilled

his tea. I wish I'd thrown it in his face.

- Golly!

- I'd love to have done it. It was boiling.

You keep on saying that.

I'd like to see you do it.

Well, I would have done it.

- Stainer, you make me sick.

- Oh?

You keep on talking, you

never do a damn thing.

- Well, what can I do?

- Go and see the officer.

- Oh, don't be mad.

- You'd be within your rights.

Yes, and would they ever forget?

I tell you, Lloyd,

they've got you where they want you.

I'm going to see the officer.

- Never.

- Is that wise?

No, but I hate gasbags.

What are you going to say, mate?

I've got plenty to say.

Be careful. Not mutiny.

You know what that leads to.

Look out, look out, here he comes.

All right. When you've done here,

report down to the quartermaster's stores.

He's got some scrubbing for you.

Oh, and by the way,

the next man I catch around camp with his

hands in his pockets will be put on a charge.

Got it? Right.

- Sergeant?

- Yes.

I want to see the officer, please.

What for?

My reasons are private.

All right. Write out an application

in the proper manner and let me have it.

And I'll see if Mr Perry can see you.

Thanks, Sergeant.

Right.

When you all get through,

go down to the stores.

- Look, Lloyd, I'll tell you what to say.

- Go to hell, Stainer.

If there hadn't been this trouble at Crewe,

you think Sergeant Fletcher

might have been easier on you?

Yes, I do, sir.

Now, these extra guard duties. According to the

rosters you've done no more than anybody else.

Do you think that because

of the trouble at Crewe,

you're blaming Sergeant Fletcher

for doing his job?

It isn't only the guards, sir.

You've been in the Army, what, six weeks?

Isn't that a short time to decide

about a soldier like Sergeant Fletcher?

I wouldn't have come to you, sir,

if I hadn't felt justified.

You've made a complaint. I must investigate

it or refer it to the company commander.

Do you want to refer it to Captain Edwards,

make a complaint in front of Sergeant Fletcher?

I'd rather leave it to you, sir.

- Very well, Lloyd.

- Thank you, sir.

Sentries, pass!

Quick march!

Look here, Evan, I've been thinking.

If he didn't actually say nothing,

he must have hinted.

For the 100th time, he said

he'd look into it. That's all.

Now, for goodness' sake, shut up.

I told you it wouldn't do any good.

But if he looks into it,

like what he said...

Brewer, fetch the cocoa.

Right, Sergeant.

Won't be having cocoa at the sergeant's

mess party. Wine, women and song.

Lily Of Laguna

Wait till the competitions. I'll bet...

- Good evening.

- Good evening, sir.

- What'll it be? Bitter?

- Have a sandwich, sir?

- What's Sergeant Major betting on?

- No.10 platoon, sir. Used to be his.

- We don't mind taking his money, do we?

- I should hope not, sir.

My old battalion were all Territorials, so I haven't

much experience of these men just called up.

Do they usually make complaints?

Lloyd, sir?

Yes.

All soldiers like a bit of a grumble, sir.

After all, it's not funny to have to run

when you feel like walking,

or stand up

when you feel you could do with a sit down.

Or to have someone shout at you

when you're doing your best.

No, I think it does a man good

to let off steam a bit, sir.

Yes, if that's all it is.

Well, they're new, sir. But there's

some good men there. Lloyd for one.

He hasn't got the hang of it yet, but he

has the knack of handling men all right.

He's a bit of a nuisance at the moment,

but later on he'll make an NCO.

- Now, Luke...

- Got him onto that again, have you, sir?

The adjutant is taking some of his men for the

mortar platoon. The way Fletcher carried on...

Well, you'd think someone

was pinching his watch.

He even said that professor bloke - Davenport -

said he had the makings of a soldier.

There's nothing wrong with him

that the Army won't put right.

- Stainer?

- Yes, what about him?

Same with him, sir. He was a bit of a mess when

he first came in, but he'll shake down in time.

- We haven't got a dud there, sir.

- See what I mean? Optimistic.

Same thing in France, too.

If we'd only had the guns and planes

and tanks and things, it might all have...

Well, anyway, that was that.

There'll be no more of that nonsense.

There'll be a big change.

- Things are going to be different from now on.

- Yes, sir.

- Good evening, Brewer.

- Good evening, sir.

Here, he's giving it to him.

He's giving it to him proper.

- Who's giving what to who?

- The old screamer.

- Perry's giving him a right dressing down.

- What did he say?

He said things will be different. He wants

no nonsense. There's going to be a change.

- What did the sergeant say?

- He says, "Yes, sir." That's all.

Very slow, with a silly look on his face.

Almost human, he was.

Had all the stuffing knocked out of him.

Good for you, Evan. You're a plucky lad.

- I owe you an apology.

- I don't know...

From now on, he'll be as quiet as a little

lamb. Tomorrow he'll be saying please.

Come on! You're light infantry,

not horse Marines!

Truscott!

Truscott, get that fat side over!

- Parsons!

- Come on. Come on.

Come on! Come on!

Come on! Get out of it! Get out of it!

Come on, Davenport!

- Come on.

- Come on, Davenport!

- Wait a minute.

Oi!

Get on with it, Luke!

What's the matter with you?

Come on, Beck! Hurry up, hurry up!

Come on, come on. Come on, Parsons!

Come on! Come on, the rest of you!

Come on, Truscott!

- Can't you see I'm stuck?

- Well, get unstuck.

Now what have you done?

Don't hang about there, Lloyd!

Go back and take it in your stride!

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes