Went the Day Well?

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1

Good day to you.

Come to have a look at Bramley End,

have you?

Pretty little place,

and a nice old church, too.

13th century, parts of it.

Still, it won't be that that's brought you,

I don't suppose.

It'll be these names on this grave here

and the story that's

buried along with them.

Look funny, don't they?

German names in an English churchyard.

They wanted England, these Jerries did,

and this is the only bit they got.

The Battle of Bramley End,

that's what the papers called it.

Nothing was said about it

'till after the war was over

and old Hitler got what was coming to him.

Whitsun weekend it was, 1942.

As peaceful and quiet

here then, as it is now,

even though there was a war on.

It was Saturday morning

when those army lorries

came rumbling along the road from Upton.

We'd have laughed if you'd told us

we'd got a real live German

right under our very noses

and we'd have thought you was

a bit weak in the upper storey

if you'd said the chaps in those lorries

was anything else

but ordinary British Tommies.

Pretty soon we learned better

and no mistake.

- Morning, Peg.

- Morning, darling.

Well, we'll be sharing a

bottle after tomorrow.

- Promise me something.

- What?

You'll never come home with the milk.

- Good morning.

- Good morning.

Could you tell me

where the village policeman lives?

Yes, the cottage beyond the one

with the porch.

Oh, thanks awfully.

We have to see about billeting our men.

Looks as though I shall have company

while you and Tom's on your honeymoon.

Now you behave yourself, my girl.

Well, I'll do my best.

Wonder what they'd come here for.

Nothing that'll make any difference to you,

my girl.

You get on with your work.

Whatever can soldiers be doing in Bramley?

Exercise probably, Mrs Carter.

Funny way to take exercise

riding in lorries.

Good morning.

Are you the police officer here?

Yes, sir. I was just

shaving, overslept like.

Begging your pardon

for coming to the door like this, sir.

That's all right. Here's

the billeting notice.

What for, sir?

Didn't the Billeting Officer warn you

about our arrival?

No, sir. Care to step inside?

We shall need billets for 60 men.

For about three nights.

60 men, sir? That's a large order

for a small village like this.

I dare say, but there's a war on, you know.

I could squeeze about half of them in, sir,

but as for the rest...

You'll have to, I'm afraid.

Oh, there's the village hall, sir. There's

room there for a tidy few, I reckon.

Maybe you'd care to have a word

with the vicar, sir?

Certainly. Where is the vicarage?

- Just along past the church.

- Maxwell, you take the car and go

- with the constable to the other billets.

- Right, sir.

- Mr Ashton'?

- Yes, my father's in.

Could I see him?

- Well, will you come this way?

- Thanks.

Good morning, sir.

Oh, I didn't realise.

I'm afraid I'm disturbing you.

- Not at all.

- My name's Hammond.

- Do sit down, won't you?

- Thank you.

I'm in charge of a party of sappers. Hello!

We've been sent to do

a job of work down here.

- In Bramley?

- Yes.

Really? My dear, another cup.

Oh, that's very charming of you.

We've been on the road for hours.

So, what can I do for you?

Well, sir, it's a question of billets.

The local policeman said that you might be

kind enough to lend us the village hall.

Well, what do you think, Nora?

Well, I don't see why not, Father.

First Aid can always meet here.

Yes, I see no reason why not.

Oh, splendid, thanks very much.

You needn't worry about damage

or anything of that sort.

They're a very good lot of fellows.

- Milk and sugar?

- Please.

And your own sleeping quarters,

have you made arrangements about them?

Not yet, sir. One likes to get the men

fixed up first, you know. Oh, thanks.

We have a spare room here.

It's rather a cubbyhole, I'm afraid,

but you'd be most welcome.

Well, that's extremely kind of you, sir,

if you're sure it won't cause

a lot of inconvenience.

I mean, I expect you're understaffed and...

We shall be most offended if you refuse.

Then I accept, of course. Thanks very much.

Good morning. I'm afraid I've come again

to borrow the... Oh, I'm so sorry.

- Oh, do come in.

- All right.

Let's see, the keys of the hall

are with Mrs Collins.

That's the village shop.

You shouldn't have deserted the Army.

I only came to borrow

those garden scissors.

The Army wanted Father, not me.

I think the scissors are in this cupboard.

Oh, wait a minute, you've got them.

Don't you remember,

I brought them across on Thursday.

Oh, yes, of course, you did.

I must be getting absent-minded.

The penalty of middle age.

Don't be absurd, you're not middle-aged.

I've got a wedding

after morning service tomorrow.

Young Tom Sturry, our innkeeper's son,

but, of course, if you're thinking

of holding a church parade...

Oh, I'm afraid we'll have to work

right through Sunday, sir.

You see, we've only been given a few days

to do this job and, much as we'd like to...

Oh, yes, quite, quite, I quite understand.

- This is Mr Wilsford, Mr Hammond.

- How do you do'?

You should have said

Corporal Wilsford, Father.

Mr Wilsford is the leading light

of our Home Guard.

Though considering

all he's done for the village,

he ought to be a brigadier at least.

Home Guard, eh?

You're just the man I want to see.

We've been sent along to put

the village in a state of general defence.

General defence?

Dear me, that sounds very alarming.

Merely a routine matter.

You know, Father,

machine-gun posts, barbed wire,

like they have over at Upton Ferrars.

Who's your O.C.? I'd like to get

hold of him as soon as possible.

There's a fellow called Drew.

Lieutenant Drew.

He's the baker over at Upton.

He'll be here on his rounds quite soon.

Good. In the meantime,

perhaps you could give me

- a rough idea of the tactical layout.

- By all means.

Then I won't disturb your breakfast

any further.

I'll send my kit over later, if I may,

and thanks again for your hospitality.

- Goodbye.

- Goodbye.

I'd like to be at the manor

this morning, Father.

Why, my dear, what do you mean?

Well, poor Mrs Fraser. Haven't we

rather stolen the guest of honour?

On!

Sit down, Mr Maxwell. Give me your pencil.

- The cigarettes are on the table by your side.

- Thanks.

Let's tackle the problem

in a practical way.

Six at least at West's Farm.

- Well, ma'am, I enquired at the farm and...

- Six at West's Farm.

Then Mrs Rogers need only have one.

She said she'd prefer to have two.

She thought it'd be more proper like.

At 73? She's old enough to know better.

Mrs Rogers, one.

One at Farm Cottage?

That's out of the question.

I thought the young ladies

could share for tonight,

seeing that Miss Peggy's going on

her honeymoon tomorrow.

Quite. Leaving Ivy all by herself.

And she certainly isn't old enough

to know better.

As you wish, madam,

but it do seem a waste of a good bed.

Very well,

but you must take the responsibility.

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