Just a little bit...
No! It doesn't feel right.
It does to me.
Mum says I should wait until I'm 18
before I do any funny business.
That's a whole year.
I'll explode!
Haven't you ever heard the best things are always worth waiting for?
Katie!
Coming!
Katie!
Coming!>
Mr Fisher.
~ Bye. ~ Bye.
Austria-Hungary have accused the Serbs of murder.
Wash your hands.
They issued an ultimatum last night at six o'clock
with the full backing of Berlin.
48 hours to arrest those responsible for the assassination of the
Archduke Ferdinand and deliver them up or face the consequences.
They must also publicly condemn all propaganda
against the Austro-Hungarian people
and remove the same from all Serbian schoolbooks and public documents.
Can they do that?
Doesn't really matter what they can or can't do,
~ the point is, they want the Serbs to kiss their arses. ~ William!
They'll hear worse, if it turns to war.
~ Will we have to fight? ~ There won't be a war. Eat your food.
It's no use lying to the boy.
You've only got one good leg, and he's too young,
so there'll be no more talk of anyone going anywhere to fight.
~ I'm not scared. ~ Well, you should be!
If it comes to it, we'll have to defend ourselves.
If there is a war, then we'll stay on the farm
and grow food to feed the army, but I will not send them my children.
Michael, can you help your sister, please?
Sorry, lads.
Ladies!
~ Hello, Tom. ~ Hello, Dad.
~ Hello, love. ~ Hello, Mum.
If Germany invade France, they're going to have to go through Belgium.
Looks like they're having none of it.
That's good, isn't it?
Not if they decide to march through anyway.
Do you think there'll be a war, Dad?
Looks like things are moving that way.
But it's not us, is it?
I mean, it's Austria and Germany and that,
but they're miles away over the Channel.
Well, the thing is, Germany might invade Belgium.
And they're our friends, and you have to stick up for your friends.
If it comes to it, I'll go and fight.
~ I know you will, son. ~ I'm not scared.
Course you're not.
But it won't come to that.
If there is a war, it'll be over in a month.
What if I get killed?
You can't let me die before we've done it.
It was in the newspaper this morning
that anyone who signs up to fight now won't see any action.
The war will be over by the time you've finished training.
~ What if the training kills me? ~ You're definitely signing up, then?
~ Do you want me to? ~ Course I do.
Everyone else's boyfriend's going to.
Oh-oh!
You just don't want to be stuck with a coward?
~ I didn't say that. ~ No, no, I get it, I get it.
Two worst things in a boyfriend -
being a coward and a virgin.
~ So I was thinking.... ~ Mm?
When I sign up,
I'll get wages.
Proper wages.
More than I get working down the farm anyway. So I thought,
if you wanted...
I could buy a ring?
An engagement ring?
I'm late.
You... you didn't answer me!
"His Majesty's government declared to the German government
"that a state of war exists between Great Britain and Germany
"as from 11pm on August 4 1914."
He's too young! He's too young!
The army says he's old enough to volunteer.
So we just handed over our job as parents to the army?
~ We let them decide what's best for our son? ~ No...
That's what you've just said.
They said he's old enough so it's all right.
Why aren't you asking me what I want?
Because I don't want to hear you telling me
that you've become a man overnight and that you want to go
and join the army so you can kill other men!
~ There's a war, we have to fight. ~ Don't be ridiculous!
You've had one fight in your entire life! You were nine years old
and you came home crying with a bloody nose!
Don't worry, this time I won't.
Michael...
Do something!
Better give Tommy another shout.
Thank you, sir.
Breathe in.
~ Name? ~ Michael Lang, sir.
~ Name? ~ Thomas Edwards, sir.
Age?
18, sir.
Do you mean 19?
Yes, sir.
Over there.
Wait over there.
You have to be 19 to go overseas.
~ Oh! ~ Not much point signing up and not going anywhere is there?
Cyril Griffiths.
Thomas Edwards. Tommy.
Can't shorten my name.
Not that it matters, everyone calls me Wing Nut. No idea why.
I'm joking.
Oh!
Here, lad, to you.
Keep moving!
~ Next one, please. ~ Next, please.
Say "ah"...
Breathe out.
~ Next. ~ Turn around for me.
~ Move along now. ~ Next!
Turn around.
It'll be all over before he's finished his army training.
Don't, David.
Our little boy is going to fight in a war.
Against grown men.
Grown men who will be trying to kill him.
So don't think that saying everything will be all right is enough.
Because it isn't.
Nothing you can say to me will be enough,
or will make it all right...
or will make me understand...
or will make me feel any different to the way I do now,
so just don't.
You can't stop him.
~ Yes, we can! ~ For how long, Annie?
~ He's 17. ~ And then what?
He runs away?
He goes over there anyway, all on his own?
Without knowing his family love him, that we're waiting for him?
This time tomorrow he'll be gone.
And all you'll be able to think about
are the things you'd say to him if he was still here.
Well, he's here now.
It's funny to think that wherever you go,
you'll be able to see the same stars as me.
We'll both be looking at them at the same time.
When I'm looking at them, you'll be able to see them too.
Hmm.
Are you frightened?
No.
A little bit.
I do love you.
Whatever you have to do, come back to me, do you hear?
I'll be all right, Mum, stop worrying.
Promise me.
I promise.
Come here!
It's for you!
Thank you, it's beautiful!
All right, I've got to go, mate, see you, mate.
I've never been on a bus before!
You stay out of trouble!
I'm proud of you.
I've packed you gloves
and extra wool socks in case you get cold at night.
~ Oh, and there's a scarf, I don't know if they'll let you... ~ Mum!
~ ..wear it, but maybe under your tunic... ~ Mum, I'll be fine.
You don't have to be a hero, you know.
~ Least I won't die a virgin. ~ Shh!
Write every day!
~ Be back before you know it. ~ Bye!
Thank you.
~ You lot, hurry up. Hurry up, come on! ~ >
Halt!
Right, lads, off the buses!
Barracks to the left!
Buses one to three, barracks seven and eight.
Four to six, tents row A to D.
We're together, come on.
Find your tents as quick as you can!
Gentlemen, come on, to your tents!
Don't worry, I'll give you a chance to win it back.
~ Anthony. AJ. ~ Tommy.
~ You play cards? ~ Not really. ~ Oh, don't worry, I'll teach you.
Just give him whatever money you've got now, save you the time.
That's Ben, he thinks he's funny. How old are you?
~ 17. ~ I've got a brother your age.
Our dad had to lock him in the bedroom.
~ I'd have climbed out the window. ~ Good man.
That's Kev. Just don't introduce him to your sister.
Or your mum.
This is Cyril. People call him Wing Nut.
Don't know why.
Attention!
Over there, the Allied army is gathering.
They've been working and training hard.
You must do the same if you are to defeat them.
While you're here, it's my job to try and kill you.
Those of you that survive will be sent to France to fight the Boche,
the logic being that if I can't kill you, neither can they.
Shoulder arms!
Present arms!
Eyes right!
Eyes front!
Shoulder arms!
Left turn!
Forward march!
Left, left!
Pack up!
Take all your personal possessions!
Where do you think we're going?
They say run, we run, they say pack, we pack.
I want this place spotless before you go.
Forward march!
Left, left, left!
We're going. We're actually bloody well going.
Germans won't know what hit 'em.
~ Aye, as soon as they get a whiff of Wing Nut's socks... ~ Oi!
Hurry up, boys! The Boche are waiting!
They're waiting, the Boche are waiting!
Do you think we'll come back?
Bloody right we will.
Does it matter that I don't speak French?
♪ It's a long way to Tipperary
♪ It's a long way to go
♪ It's a long way to Tipperary
♪ To the sweetest girl I know
♪ Goodbye Piccadilly
♪ Farewell Leicester Square
♪ It's a long, long way to Tipperary
♪ But my heart's right there... ♪
Someone was telling us about the third light rule, Corporal,
~ is that true? ~ What's that?
When you spark up, sniper sees the first light,
takes aim on the second, and shoots on the third.
If you're stupid enough to stick your head above the sandbag
and spark up, I'll shoot you myself.
Ow!
What are those, Corporal?
Ah, ticklers. The Germans have real bombs, we don't.
~ So we're improvising. ~ With jam tins?
Welcome to the war, son.
We're at stand down now,
but reconnaissance reckons the Germans have got a load
of reinforcements in, so it looks like it's going to be a busy day.
Morning hate starts in five minutes.
They've been carrying out morning raids,
so we are going to let them know that we are here and ready.
Now get to your dug-outs.
You're responsible for your own equipment,
so keep your weapons clean.
If your rifle doesn't fire when you need it to,
then you or the man next to you is dead.
The enemy is less than 200 feet in front
so keep your heads down!
Wonder what it's like getting shot.
If you find out, let me know.
Does anyone fancy a bet?
What on?
Who gets shot first.
He's actually serious.
~ Why not? ~ Be good, though, wouldn't it?
Yeah, right, good idea, let's all get shot.
Nah, just winged a bit, to go home with.
Just a little scar to show the girls... right here.
Come on, then!
Let them know we're here!
Positions!
Second fire to the head of the trench!
Get to your positions, quickly!
Mortars! Mortars!
~ We're getting leave. ~ When? ~ Soon.
Was anyone else hurt? My friends?
I'll ask.
He seems so much older.
He's home, that's all that matters.
~ Where are you from? ~ I'm Polish, we're fighting everyone.
~ I know you don't want me to worry. ~ There's really not much to tell.