How I Won the War Page #2

Coming from the byres

They're coming from the cities and towns

They're coming from the factories

They're coming from the farms...

- You married?

- No, I play the harmonica.

I'm coming after you civil reservists

to see if you can remember about rifles

and thumbs down the seams

of your slacks,

into your pink civvy thoughts

with my big black boots,

bearing a big, black, knobbly stick.

So take a hold of yourselves. Stand still.

- Face your front.

- I am.

Squad, 'shun!

- Down them rifles.

- Rifles!

- Splinter.

- Slope arms.

Two, three, across...

- Hands...

- Down!

(Transom) Throw them rifles.

- Will advance.

- Front, Clapper.

- Splinter.

- By the right, quick march.

Left, right, left, right, left...

(Grapple) Coming dressed in overalls...

- Retire. About.

- Coming with umbrellas...

- Coming bringing gifts...

- Turn!

Stand still. Those two men, about.

Don't speak to me like that.

I'm a married man.

About turn.

By the right, quick march.

What's this? Halt.

Stand still. Never, ever

have I seen such a sight.

- Am I hurting you?

- No.

I should be. I'm standing on your hair.

- Who said that?

- Is this North Africa?

- Catterick.

- Marching like idiots.

- Never...

- In all my life!

It really is only a question of getting

the right leg to respond to my brain.

Move to the right in threes.

- Wait for it.

- Where are you going? Still.

- It's no good to me.

- My finger. There's a splinter.

- Right in threes. Right turn.

- Would you go sick?

- I want to fight.

- That's the spirit.

- Who's the one in the flat hat?

- Baden-Powell.

Fall in, you.

On the command, move. Move.

Don't look at him, look at me.

If you look at him,

I'll give you to him.

You can be put into his hands.

You can spend your life with such as him.

- Oh...

- Brain, brawn and guile...

They're coming dressed in overalls

Coming dressed in tweed...

To the front, salute.

- As you were.

- Hit them rifles.

You won't break them.

To the front, salute!

Of skin and guts and fortitude

Of brain and brawn and guile

And what is more,

they're yours, young man

See you do well by them.

(piano flourish)

(sparse applause)

(Goodbody) I'll never forget the moment

I was appointed to my first command.

No...

- Oh...

- Him!

Squad, 'shun.

- We're all going to die.

- I'm gonna die in North Africa.

Come, now, be fair.

Not all of us, Corporal of Musket.

- There will be survivors.

- (machine gun)

Many of us, even, will survive training.

It's personal. Can I speak to you

on a personal matter?

Personal? Keep your rear down.

It's her, sir. She's getting stuffed the

jacksy off her by the man from the Pru.

Jacksy?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes