The Hasty Heart

This is Burma, 1945.

Mountains, jungle,

more mountains, more jungle.

A hundred miles of it. Two hundred.

Five hundred. A thousand.

Measured in inches and sweat.

A full-time job.

A dirty, relentless backbreaking job,

24 hours a day.

Until everything blends into a weary haze,

and all that's important

is getting it over with.

Days become weeks,

the weeks become months.

It rains, keeps on raining.

Then it's blistering hot.

Half the year you're drowning,

the other half you fry.

This is how it is in Burma.

They go by endlessly,

Chinwits, Indians, Gurkhas,

Chinese, Basutos,

Scots, Australians, New Zealanders,

Americans, Canadian, English,

and many others.

Tired, dirty, indomitable.

There are only two classifications

in the jungle, friends and enemies.

- MacLachlan?

- Aye.

Two.

Keep your eye on my pipes.

And remember,

they're my own personal, private property.

In Burma, in 1945, the fighting,

working and suffering

have become a routine.

A way of life.

If a man falls, he's taken away.

The battle goes on.

The road to victory is a long road

that sometimes ends at a hospital.

It's been like this a long time now.

There's a feeling it may go on forever.

But there's an end to everything.

It's finished now. The war is over.

Aye? Would you repeat that, chum?

The war is over.

Blimey! Thanks. Thanks very much.

Hey, it's over. It's over!

- What's over?

- The war is over.

Hey! Hey! The war is over!

It's over!

It's over, Sarge. It's over!

- What?

- The war is over.

It just came through the blower.

The war, over! Oh, boy!

- Morning, Sister.

- Morning, Sister.

- Wanna come along with us?

- I wish I could.

- We're gonna miss you.

- I'll miss you too.

- What about us?

- I'll miss you all.

- Goodbye, Sister.

- Goodbye.

Bye.

- Good morning.

- Good morning, Sister.

The matron asked me to report

to Colonel Dunn.

- Is he up yet?

- Yes, I think so.

- I'll see if I can find him.

- Thank you.

Good morning.

- I'm here to see the Colonel.

- He isn't in at the moment.

I can see that. Where should I find him?

What is it? Perhaps I can help you.

I'm here to examine

his medical certificate.

- What's that?

- Did I not make myself clear?

But why?

Do you see they men?

They're going home,

every last man jack of them.

Everyone but me.

What may I ask is wrong with me

that I should be kept by force

in this foul-smelling den?

I'm sure the Colonel

has his reasons for keeping...

Aye, observation, he says.

But I'm hale and hearty,

and fit as ever I was.

- So why can I not go home?

- Now, look here.

I know how anxious you must be.

We all are. But don't you see...

Oh, what's the good of talking?

You're all the same in this army.

First it's days and days

of parading and saluting,

and learning how to handle

a deadly weapon.

Then it's months of waiting

to be shipped out.

Then it's 5,000 miles around the world

to a godforsaken spot

in the middle of nowhere.

And then, the day before the war ends,

I get a small wound in my back.

And now I'm bogged down

in a mass of medical red tape!

Yeah, I wasted my time, surely!

- Good morning, Sister.

- Good morning, sir.

- How many patients left in your ward?

- Five, sir.

Five. Should be enough.

What are they like?

- What are they like, sir?

- Yes.

Are they a decent crowd, you know?

- Kind, friendly, sympathetic?

- Yes, sir.

They seem to be.

Well, we shall just have to take it

for granted that it'll work out.

It's rather a delicate situation.

Now, to begin with,

I'm thinking of sending you over

a new patient this morning.

A young Scotsman.

- A Scotsman?

- Yes.

- Not the...

- A very decent chap. You'll like him.

Yes, sir.

But before I send him over,

I want you to take a look at his history.

Then I want you to talk to your patients.

It's a case that's going to call

for the cooperation of the entire ward.

- Now, come inside with me, will you?

- Yes, sir.

Will you call the orderly in Ward 3?

- Tell him the Colonel will be over shortly.

- Very good, Sister.

Now then, wakey, wakey, wakey!

Rise and shine. Show a leg up.

Patients into the washroom.

Come on, Tommy!

Get cracking, Kiwi. Yank!

Wake up,

the Colonel will be in in a few minutes.

Digger, let's be having you.

Now then, Blossom, up with you,

the war's over. Time to get up.

Blimey, would you believe it?

Wake up, wake up!

Why don't you drop dead?

I might even try that

if I thought it'd get you up.

Come on, come on,

the hospital's burning down.

The monsoons have started.

There's an air raid, there's an earthquake.

- You're not very funny, buster.

- Anything to get you blokes up.

Well, try and think

of something different tomorrow.

Now, do get up.

I'm half an hour late and the Colonel's

coming around early this morning.

- What for?

- How should I know?

Now, come and get out of it.

What do you think this is,

a blinking health resort?

Somebody ought

to do something about him.

- Something nasty.

- Yeah.

To be woke with a kiss and a kind word...

And a cup of coffee.

Now, here we are then.

Come on, come on, get a wriggle on.

- Yank, get Digger up.

- Okay, buster. Okay.

It's a mistake to get well

in an army hospital.

Come on, Digger, wake up.

The General's here to give you a medal.

Tell him I'm out to lunch.

Hey, don't look now,

but I think somebody's in bed with you.

They're mine. All mine.

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