Arise, My Love

Turn left.

Halt.

About face.

Father, you're building tens.

Yes, building tens.

You lucky stiff!

You've got Big Casino again.

I have that, my son.

But don't forget that I play

with the greatest reluctance.

With an extra deck

up your cassock.

Prepare arms!

Aim!

Fire!

That was Oviedo.

Flew in my squadron.

Take it lightly.

Oviedo never heard that volley.

Lead travels faster than sound.

There's nothing I can touch.

Let's stop this foolish game.

You know what will happen

at 17:
00.

Father, where's your tact?

I couldn't sleep last night

trying to choose my last words

for when I stand out there.

I wavered between

"Death to tyrants"

and "Long live liberty".

I finally decided

to say it with music.

What do you think of this:

- Lookie, here goes cookie.

- Please, my son.

In these last hours,

can I do anything for you?

Yes. Give me some better cards.

I'm not of your religion.

I do not speak

your American language well.

But in a few hours,

you must face your Creator.

It is my duty to prepare you.

As a volunteer in a fight

which was not your own,

you have shot down seven planes.

Seven, my foot!

It was 12.

The official communiqu said 19.

Son, examine your heart deeply.

Don't you find repentance there?

- No regret?

- No regret?

Nothing else but.

God be praised.

I had one life

and what did I do?

Wasted it in some

palooka preliminaries in Spain,

just before Hitler and Chamberlain

warm up to the main event.

Those Nazis know how to fly

and when I think of the fun

I'd have taking pot shots

at those monkeys...

Let's set aside the question

of repentance.

There are still other matters.

Any final instructions?

Any last messages?

Well, there's my will.

And here's the menu

for my last meal.

Green turtle soup,

quail with wild rice

and a bottle of good Burgundy.

For dessert, a bubble dancer

served with some soft music.

Did you ever see

a bubble dancer, Father?

Let's put aside the question

of instructions.

I wish I were more competent

to deal with your situation,

but I was only brought here

because I speak English.

This is my first execution.

Don't worry, Father,

it's mine, too.

Let's play Casino.

- It's about a pardon.

- It concerns a pardon.

Who's been pardoned?

The prisoner's wife has met

with authorities

this morning.

What's he saying?

- What was the result?

- A full pardon was signed.

The wife awaits her husband

in the prison Governor's office.

God be praised!

- Is he talking about my pardon?

- Yes, my son.

An interview was granted

by the highest military authority.

- Your wife has...

- My wife?

Yes, they have listened

to her entreaties.

It's a full pardon. She's waiting

in the prison Governor's office.

- My wife's waiting there?

- This way.

Go at once.

Let us go, please.

What a blessed outcome!

This is a glorious miracle.

It sure is, because between us,

I haven't any wife!

Wait here.

I will call you.

- Can you see her?

- Yes.

- She's not your wife?

- I've never seen her before.

Then they sent for you

by mistake.

We had a nice walk from my cell.

We'll have a nice walk back.

Come in.

Tom, it's you!

Tom, it's you!

It's your funny old face.

Let me look at you.

You look pale.

You've lost weight.

Darling!

He's completely dazed.

Darling, don't you understand?

You're free, pardoned.

Your wife is here.

How about a kiss?

Darling! It's been so long.

One moment, Mrs. Martin.

A certain point must be settled.

Despite your grave offenses

against Spain, Mr. Martin,

my superior has seen fit

to show you clemency.

He did so because of

your wife's pleadings

and as a gesture of friendship

to your native land.

Before the pardon takes effect,

you must pledge to leave Spain

and never take up arms

against her again.

Once he's out of here,

he'll never come back,

I can guarantee that.

- You promise, don't you?

- Me? Sure.

We'll have the papers drawn up.

Governor, look at his passport.

- What?

- Look what it says.

Isn't that strange?

Is this your passport

Mr. Martin?

- Your photograph?

- Looks like it.

It says "Thomas Fuller Martin,

born June 22, 1906 in Ohio".

- That's me.

- It also says...

"Unmarried".

Does it?

That's how you got abroad!

That's how you managed

to enlist!

They never would've taken him

if they'd known he was married!

- That's why he did it.

- Yes, that's why I did it.

Tom...

Leaving me in New York

with back rent,

a child and another on the way.

- No...

- Tom, I hate you. I hate you!

Maybe I shouldn't have come.

We'd be better off

if they shot you.

Senora, he's a young man.

When I was his age, I ran away

to service in Spanish Morocco.

You were engaged,

but he was married.

When I think of those months,

the tears I've shed.

Yu can see why I ran away.

Always crying,

always hysterical.

Baby, with your bawling

I'd rather face the firing squad.

- You don't love me!

- Sure I do.

Salvador,

bring the prisoner's belongings.

I'm sure the Martins

are in a hurry to leave.

- Thank you.

- Pardon, Governor.

I'd prefer not to assist

at this scene.

Perhaps we'd better go and see

if the papers are drawn up.

Darling!

- Who in blazes are you?

- Tom, darling!

Careful, if you don't want

two people shot instead of one!

- They may be listening.

- But what is this?

- You're doing me a favor.

- Doing you a favor?

I'm Augusta Nash,

from the Associated News.

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