Waterloo Page #3

If Grouchy comes between us...

And catches the Prussians

strung out on the march...

Then it would be just

a matter of counting our dead.

With such a risk,

dare we rely on Blucher?

We have to rely on

each other, Uxbridge.

Gentlemen.

Who did you give your watch to, Hay?

Somerset, sir.

Expecting to die tomorrow?

I don't like those thoughts.

Having them

sometimes makes them come true.

Get your watch back. Tomorrow I will

ask you the time every five minutes.

Shall I send for Doctor Larrey?

Should I call the doctor?

No, no, no. No doctor.

What are you looking at?

What?

Get out. Out, out, out.

Everyone out.

I mustn't be sick.

I must have strength for tomorrow.

My body is dying,

yet my brain is still good.

Will it never stop raining?

- We're 140,000 men.

- We're not the half of it.

That's counting the French as well.

Eat your soup

while you've got your belly.

Have you seen our new Corporal?

- 'Morning, Corporal!

- He doesn't talk to the likes of us.

Did you have bacon for breakfast?

- 'Morning, Ramsey.

- 'Morning. Filthy night, wasn't it?

- 'Morning, gentlemen.

- Good morning, Sire.

This one.

- What are you all staring at?

- Are you all right, Sire?

That was last night.

I've never felt better in my life.

Come, we eat.

I'm afraid this afternoon,

you will need bigger napkins.

We attack at nine.

What is the ground like?

It will not dry before noon, Sire.

We've fought in mud before.

That's true.

- What's that?

- Sunday morning.

The priest in Plancenoit

won't give up his mass.

Well, he won't have much

of a congregation.

I'm not asleep, Drouot.

Sire, we need four hours. The ground

is too soft to move my cannon.

Waiting four hours

would have lost me Austerlitz.

Wellington won't hold us an hour with

his English, Brunswickers and Belgians.

- I cannot answer for my cannon.

- You are the cannon, Drouot.

It would be better

to attack at twelve.

Battles are lost and won

in a quarter of an hour.

If Wellington were on the move,

I would say, go now.

But he is sitting

with the mud in his favour.

In his favour?

Sir?

Uxbridge.

In case anything should happen to you,

what are your plans?

To beat the French.

Dramatic fellows, these French.

Music and banners.

Quite beautiful.

You're a lucky fellow, Hay, to see

such wonder in your first battle.

- Your Grace!

- What is it, Hay?

Over there, near the road!

His white horse! The monster.

So there's the great thief

of Europe himself.

Napoleon has ridden within range.

May I have permission to try a shot?

Certainly not.

Commanders have something better

to do than fire at each other.

Killing is a brotherly business,

isn't it, de Lancey?

- Shall I shut them up, sir?

- No.

No, indulge it.

Anything that wastes time

this morning, indulge it.

Normally, I don't like cheering.

But there's always a time

to cut cards with the devil.

Would you kindly announce me?

- Who's the lad who leathers the French?

- Our Atty!

I've no need of a white horse

to puff me, by God.

- Who gives salt to Marshal Soult?

- Our Atty!

- Who gave Johnny Francois a jolt?

- Our Atty!

- Who will peck Boney's bum?

- Our Atty!

- Who makes the "Parlez-vous" to run?

- Our Atty!

- Who's the boy with the hooky nose?

- Our Atty!

- Who's the lad who leathers the French?

- Our Atty!

- Who's the boy to kick Boney's arse?

- Our Atty!

Come on, get me out.

Drouot was right.

This mud may kill us.

The only enemy I fear is nature.

The battle orders, Sire.

There are more orders here than

there were for the siege of Troy.

You can tell by the position of his guns

that his might is on the right side.

He is afraid of his right.

All right.

Therefore that's where

we'll tease him.

We'll have a diversionary action.

We tease his right side. If he weakens

his centre to support the right -

- Then I will know the calibre

of this English aristocrat.

Gentlemen... today's fox.

- Clever chap, your tailor, Hay.

- Dunmore and Locke's in St. James.

Remind me of that de Lancey.

I like my men well dressed.

For the enemy.

- La Bedoyere?

- Yes, Sire.

Do you have children?

Yes. I have one son. Very young.

No taller than your boot.

And would you want him

to be with you today?

Yes.

- Yes? Why?

- So he could see you, Sire.

See me...

I have a son.

I would give anything to see him.

I'd give my heart, my life.

But not here.

I wouldn't want him

to witness this battle today.

His main strength

is beyond that hill.

What he shows me is only a facade.

He is clever. Clever.

We'll begin the attack there.

At Hougoumont.

Well, that opens the ball.

Thirty-five minutes past eleven.

Thank you, gentlemen.

Return to your positions.

Fire!

Battalion, advance!

He's committed Foye's division.

He intends to turn us on the right.

What he seems to intend

and what he does. -

- Will be as different as

white knight to black bishop.

We can move the 95th down, sir.

I will not run around like a wet hen.

There will be plenty of time, sir.

He hasn't moved.

He's nailed himself to his ridge.

This Englishman has two qualities

that I admire.

Caution and, above all, courage.

He hasn't moved. Now we move

the heavy artillery against Picton.

It seems he's swinging

his weight to you, Picton.

- His guns move so smoothly.

- He moves his cannon like a pistol.

I doubt if Byland's brigade

will stand.

Never mind.

Let him have a taste of it.

If they don't run first.

They're coming on

in the same old style.

And we'll have to meet them

in the same old style.

This one's going to take

careful timing.

Gin up, boys.

Get it while you can.

The French will have it

out of you in a minute, anyway.

- Dick?

- No, thank you.

Have a sup of gin

with His Majesty's compliments.

Remind me to thank him

next time we visit the palace.

- Would you say there are many of them?

- I can't see through a hill.

It's like the whole of bloody hell

is coming up out of the ground.

Nothing frightens me more than being

next to a friend of the Almighty.

The 72nd will prepare to advance!

Before we go, Uxbridge.

Savage stuff, Ponsonby.

You don't see its like anymore.

My father left us a hundredweight.

An old Jew in Alexandria

had the blend.

Blend?

My father was killed by the French.

It never should have happened.

His horse got bogged in a field

and the brute just gave up.

Seven lancers had him

like a tiger in a pit.

- Bad luck, eh, Uxbridge?

- Damned bad luck.

Yes, particularly bad luck.

He had 400 better horses at home.

Byland's brigade has broken.

Plug the gap, if you please.

Now is the time for

the heavy cavalry, I think.

Get your bastards up onto the crest.

I'll bring up the rest of the brigade.

Don't hurry yourself, Pic.

My lads'll hold them 'till you come.

Get forward, damn you.

The 92nd will advance!

Greenslade Mackenna!

Has Wellington nothing

to offer me but these Amazons?

Fire!

On, you drunken rascals!

You whore's melts! You thieves!

Now, Scots Greys, now!

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