See You Up There

---

1

For Alain de Greef

For Marcel Gotlib

Morocco, November 1920

Your name, date and place of birth.

Albert Maillard. May 16, 1872.

Rue Ordener in Paris.

- Son of? - Yvette Maillard. A linen maid.

And?

Unknown.

Profession?

Bookkeeper.

Service record?

Called up in June '16. Reserves.

You saw action at your age?

Somme in July '16. Chemin des Dames '17...

Active duty in August '18.

Then found myself with kids at Hill 113.

Hill 113?

Our position at the armistice.

When did you meet Edouard Pricourt?

There, at Hill 113.

And that's when you first discussed...

A "partnership"?

It's a long story. It's complicated.

We have plenty of time.

SEE YOU UP THERE

Adapted from the novel by Pierre Lemaitre, Prix Goncourt 2013

It all started on November 9, 1918.

Rumors of an armistice were rife, so everybody kept quiet.

By everybody I mean the Germans too.

Nobody felt like shooting anymore.

Dying last is even dumber than dying first.

Sir?

The only one not happy was our lieutenant, Pradelle.

He liked war. It was his thing.

He was scarier than the Germans.

Hostilities to cease immediately. Await further orders.

November 9, 1918

LONG LIVE DEATH:

Sergeant!

Lieutenant!

Recce patrol.

But sir...

The Germans want it to end too.

No need to worry, then.

Thrieux and Grisonnier.

Thrieux! Grisonnier!

He chose old Grisonnier

and a terrified new kid, young Thrieux.

Recce. Their front line.

Execute!

You heard the lieutenant?

A daylight recce of their trenches!

The orders were absurd.

So?

So? Orders are orders!

Dear Ccile

Grisonnier and Thrieux had been gunned down!

As if by arrangement

our 75s laid down a barrage.

The Germans replied.

Bayonets on! Gather at the ladders!

And then off we went. We were really mad...

Charge! Charge!

Don't move!

Advance! Advance, soldiers!

Into battle!

Thrieux...

Grisonnier...

They'd been shot in the back. You see?

By Pradelle!

He killed them.

Now I'm dead!

You're dead?

A figure of speech.

I came to in a hole with a dead horse.

It saved me when I could no longer breathe.

A stretcher!

A stretcher!

Please. Please.

It's still war.

Please give him some morphine.

It would do terrible harm.

More terrible than that?

Be brave.

He suffered too.

Mr. Pricourt.

It's for you, Mr. Pricourt.

Mummy

A**hole

A**hole

A**hole

Wow!

You slept like a log, mate.

That stuff really works.

Don't take this badly...

I looked at your drawings.

They're great.

Your drawings are weird, but I like them a lot.

It's weird, eh?

What do you want?

Show me.

The window?

Lunchtime.

- Your friend looks sleepy. - Not really.

Just having a little rest, that's all.

Slowly...

I'll be back in an hour.

As if that was good news!

I made your transfer request. You leave in the morning.

No need to worry.

Special hospital in Paris.

They fit prostheses. Apparently...

you'd never tell afterward.

You don't want a fake jaw?

Edouard.

You can't go home like that.

You don't want to?

What do you want?

The drawings?

I don't want to see my father

He'll still love you.

Even with that face, he'll be glad to see you.

Stop it!

That hurt.

Want me to kill you?

You survive 4 years of war and now it's over you give up?

Lots of men never went home. Presumed dead.

But they'd just scrubbed their own files.

Edouard wanted me to kill his file.

On the list for November '18

I was sure to find men whose families

didn't know yet. Recent dead. Fresh dead.

I needed a man nobody would ask after.

And I found one.

He'd grown up in care. Eugne Larivire. Bingo.

Nobody cares when they're alive,

let alone dead.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes