Journey's End Page #4

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TROTTER:
Come here.

RALEIGH:
What?

Tuck your respirator under your chin

like a serviette.

Here you go. And you won't be needing

that stick, son.

Just in case we have to run fast.

(TROTTER SNAPS FINGERS)

Mason, don't let anyone

touch my apricots.

MASON:
Very good, sir.

OSBORNE:
Thank you, Mason.

TROTTER:
Mr Hibbert.

Mr Trotter.

Got the wind up him, that one.

You have to put them

in separate pockets.

Green ones, business as usual.

Red ones to signal an alarm.

I set the wrong one off once.

Nearly cost us the war!

Go on. Have a go.

Can I?

Yeah. Yeah, go on.

(GUN CLICKS)

So just... Just up there?

Whoo!

(TROTTER CHUCKLES)

Come on.

RALEIGH:
That's a Lewis gun.

Optimum range?

That's just over a mile, Mr Trotter.

Is that them?

TROTTER:
Yeah.

(IMITATES GUNFIRE)

Bit of sniping on our left.

One or two rifle grenades

coming over on our right.

Thanks. That's good to know.

Hot soup and a good chop

will put that right.

Thank you. No appetite.

Pain right inside my eye.

(CHUCKLES)

You're back on duty at 11:00.

I'll get Mason to call you.

Right.

STANHOPE:
Artful little swine.

There's no proof of neuralgia.

OSBORNE:
Come on. He looks rotten.

I may have let Warren get

away with that, but no more.

No man of mine is going sick

before the attack.

Shh!

Bloody little funk!

Shh!

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

Keep your head down.

This is the sap.

Brings you to within just yards

of Jerry.

Come on.

(TROTTER WHISTLES)

TROTTER:
Mind your nut.

Now, then...

It's awfully quiet,

apart from that rumble in the distance.

Troop trains.

Germans?

Them and us.

All waiting for it to happen.

And what about after it happens?

Come on.

Let's get back.

Have a nice cup of tea.

Raleigh tells me

he was at school with you.

Ah.

Margaret.

Oh, Raleigh's sister.

She is beautiful.

Is she waiting for you?

She thinks I'm a wonderful chap,

commanding a company.

I daren't even go back on leave.

I don't want her to see how shot I am.

I can't bear being fully conscious

all the time.

Well, when the war's over

and the strain's gone,

you'll chuck all of this muck in.

He's gonna tell her

I reek of whisky all day long.

Oh, God. Now, why would he?

How many battalions

are there in France, Uncle?

Huh?

Fifty divisions?

Hundred and fifty brigades.

Four hundred and fifty battalions.

That's 1,800 companies.

All right.

Why this one?

That's it. Come on.

Why now?

Come on. Come to bed.

Come on. There you go.

(GROANS)

Come on.

(EXHALES)

All right.

There. There we are.

(GROANS)

You go to sleep.

Go to sleep yourself.

(CHUCKLES)

I'll have you woken at 4:00, all right?

Tuck me in, Uncle.

There we are.

What? What?

Kiss me.

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