scripts/1917.txt

                                                              1.



                      II
            ‘Life, to be sure, Is nothing much
            to lose, But young men think it is,
            And we were young.’

    -A.E. Housman

    ‘We have so much to say, and we shall never say it.’

    -Erich Maria Remarque

    All Quiet On The Western Front

                      III
            NOTE:

    The following script takes place in real time, and - with
    the exception of one moment - is written and designed to be
    one single continuous shot.


1   EXT. MEADOW - DAY - APRIL 6TH 1917                             1

    A rolling landscape. The rustling of leaves, and birdsong.

    Thunder rumbles in the distance. There is no rain.

    A figure lies against a tree, eyes closed - this is
    SCHOFIELD, early-20s. Soft features.

    A man is sleeping next to him on the grass - BLAKE, 19,
    youthful, strapping.

                      SERGEANT SANDERS (O.S.)
            Blake.

    Blake doesn’t stir.

                      SERGEANT SANDERS (O.S.)
            Blake!

    Blake wakes. He’s in uniform, damp and crumpled - Lance
    Corporal chevrons adorn it.

                      BLAKE
                 (sleepily)
            Sorry, Sarge.

                      SERGEANT SANDERS
            Pick a man, bring your kit.
                                                            2.


                  BLAKE
        Yes, Sarge.

Blake stands, stiff limbs coming back to life.

Schofield’s eyes are still shut. Blake holds out his hand
to Schofield. Schofield opens his eyes - they are gentle,
wise.

Schofield grudgingly raises his hand for a lift.

Blake heaves him to his feet - his uniform is identical to
Blake’s, same rank, the only difference is the brass wound
stripe on Schofield’s left sleeve.

They trudge towards Sanders, fastening their webbing. A
smattering of SOLDIERS - same regiment - same state of
fatigue and filth, lie around them. Stealing sleep.

                  SERGEANT SANDERS (O.S.)
        Don’t dawdle.

                  BLAKE
        No, Sarge.

After a few paces the long grass begins to give way to well
trodden earth. Washing lines appears on either side of
them.

Blake and Schofield move past them. After a while -

                  BLAKE
        Did they feed us?

Schofield shakes his head, he hands an envelope to Blake.

                  SCHOFIELD
        No, just mail.

Blake’s eyes light up at the sight of the envelope, he
tears it open, reads it as he walks. Eyes scanning quickly,
his face filling with warmth.

                  BLAKE
             (reading)
        Myrtle’s having puppies.

Blake finishes the note and slips it into a pocket.

                  BLAKE
        You get anything?
                                                                3.


                      SCHOFIELD
            No.

    Schofield doesn’t seem to mind.

    The mess tents are now alongside. Fires are stoked, cooking
    is underway. More soldiers mill about.

                      BLAKE
            I’m bloody starving, aren’t you? I
            thought we might get some decent
            grub out here - only reason I
            decided against the priesthood.

    Schofield lets out a laugh. Blake looks on hungrily as they
    pass by the mess tents.

    Schofield rummages in his pockets, finds what he’s looking
    for - a handkerchief with some food wrapped in it. Blake’s
    eyes fall on it hungrily.

                      BLAKE
            What you got there?

                      SCHOFIELD
            Ham and bread.

                      BLAKE
            Where did you find that?

                      SCHOFIELD
            I have my uses.

    Schofield breaks the bread in half. As he does this, they
    move down a slope, and begin to descend down into the
    earth, into--


2   EXT. COMMS TRENCH - DAY - CONTINUOUS                             2

    A narrow Comms trench.

                      SCHOFIELD
            Here-

    The bread is stale, practically cardboard. Blake’s teeth
    struggle to get through it.

                      BLAKE
                 (mouth full of food)
            Tastes like old shoe.

                      SCHOFIELD
                                                         4.


        Cheer up. This time next week it’ll
        be chicken dinner.

The trench drops deeper into the earth...

                  BLAKE
        Not me. Leave got cancelled.

                  SCHOFIELD
        They say why?

                   BLAKE
        No idea.

A beat. The world above has now disappeared.

                  SCHOFIELD
        It’s easier not to go back at all.

Blake registers this - looks at him.

The wider Rear Trench crosses their path. Chains of
soldiers move past them - shifting crates, ammunition,
cooking, and medical supplies.

                  BLAKE
             (looking at the soldiers)
        Something’s up.

Expectation is growing in Blake. But Schofield looks
concerned. They cut a route through the bustle.

                  BLAKE
        Did you hear anything?

                   SCHOFIELD
        No.

                  BLAKE
        Has to be the push, right?

Men carrying things push past them. Blake watches.

                  BLAKE
        Ten bob says we’re going up.

                  SCHOFIELD
        I’m not taking that bet.

                  BLAKE
        Why? ‘Cos you know I’m right?
                                                               5.


                      SCHOFIELD
            No. ‘Cos you haven’t got ten bob.

    Blake laughs.

    They follow Sanders into-


3   EXT. SECOND TRENCH - CONTINUOUS                                 3

    They turn into a wider second line trench.

                      SERGEANT SANDERS
            In your own time, gentlemen...

    Up ahead, Sanders waits.

    Blake and Schofield put on speed, catch Sanders.

                      BLAKE
            Is there news, Sarge?

                      SERGEANT SANDERS
            News of what?

                      BLAKE
            The big push. It was supposed to
            happen weeks ago. They told us we’d
            be home by Christmas.

                       SERGEANT SANDERS
                  (mild sarcasm)
            Yes, well, sorry to disrupt your
            crowded schedule, Blake, but the
            Brass Hats didn’t fancy it in the
            snow.

                      BLAKE
            More’s the pity Sarge, I could have
            done with some turkey.

                      SERGEANT SANDERS
            Well, I’ll make sure to relay your
            displeasure to command.

    Ahead and above them is a web of telegraph wires -
    stretching overhead and along the trench. THREE ROYAL
    ENGINEERS are working on them, tagging and testing. They
    duck around them.

                      SCHOFIELD
            So what’s on the cards then,
            Sergeant?
                                                               6.


                      SERGEANT SANDERS
            The Hun are up to something.

                      SCHOFIELD
            Any idea what?

                      SERGEANT SANDERS
            No - but it’s bound to ruin our
            weekend.

    Sanders turns a corner, and comes to a stop. Just beyond
    him is the dark, yawning mouth of a Dugout.

                      SERGEANT SANDERS
            Now listen, Erinmore is inside, so
            tidy yourselves up.

    They are suddenly alert.

                      SERGEANT SANDERS
            You never know - might be mentions
            in dispatches for this one, if you
            don’t bugger it up.

    Sanders gives them a look, and disappears inside the
    dugout.

    Schofield quickly buttons up his tunic, hiding any sins
    there may be underneath.

    Blake nervously tidies himself, leans in to Schofield.

                      BLAKE
            Must be something big if the
            General’s here.

    They enter.


4   INT. DUGOUT - CONTINUOUS                                        4

    Lit by paraffin lamps, it takes Schofield a moment for his
    eyes to adjust to the half-light. He and Blake hand their
    rifles to the ORDERLIES, salute, and stand at attention.

    There is a simmering sense of unease in this place.

    In the centre of the room, there are two tables. On one
    table lie several maps, on the other are a number of large
    aerial reconnaissance photographs.
                                                          7.


GENERAL ERINMORE (50s), LIEUTENANT GORDON (40s) and a
CAPTAIN are gathered around the far table, looking down at
the aerials, talking in hushed tones.

Other men watch from the shadows - TWO NCOs and ANOTHER
ORDERLY.

                  SERGEANT SANDERS
        Lance Corporals Blake and
        Schofield, Sir.

General Erinmore turns around. Looks at Blake and
Schofield.

                  GENERAL ERINMORE
        Which one of you is Blake?

                  BLAKE
        Sir.

                  ERINMORE
        You have a brother, a Lieutenant in
        the 2nd Devons?

                  BLAKE
        Yes, sir. Joseph Blake. Is he-

                  ERINMORE
        Alive, as far as I know. And with
        your help I’d like to keep it that
        way.

Blake stares at Erinmore, he would do anything.

                  ERINMORE
        Sanders tells me you’re good with
        maps. That true?

                  BLAKE
        Good enough, Sir.

                  ERINMORE
        So.

Erinmore turns the map to face Blake. The British lines are
marked in blue, the German lines in red.

                  ERINMORE
        We are here. The 2nd Devons are
        advancing here.

He points out a cross on the map at Croisilles Wood.
                                                         8.


                  ERINMORE
        How long will it take you to get
        there?

Blake hesitantly studies it. Croisilles Wood sits in the
centre of a huge area of land, which is scored as occupied
territory.

                  BLAKE
        I don’t understand, Sir.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Sir, that land is held by the
        Germans.

                  ERINMORE
        Germans have gone.

Shock plays on their faces.

                  ERINMORE
        Don’t get your hopes up. It appears
        to be a strategic withdrawal. They
        seem to have created a new line,
        nine miles back here, by the looks
        of it.

Erinmore runs his finger along the massed red lines of the
German trenches and fortifications, newly drawn on the map.

The new German Line - what came to be known as the
Hindenburg Line - is huge, and cuts its way across the
paper, almost intersecting with Croisilles Wood.

                  ERINMORE
        Colonel Mackenzie is in command of
        the 2nd. He sent word yesterday
        morning that he was going after the
        retreating Germans. He is convinced
        he has them on the run - that if he
        can break their lines now, he will
        turn the tide. He is wrong.

Schofield watches Blake as he begins to register what this
might mean.

                  ERINMORE
        Colonel Mackenzie has not seen
        these aerials of the enemy’s new
        line.

Erinmore turns to the other table.
                                                          9.


                  ERINMORE
        Come round here, Gentlemen.

Blake and Schofield move to the next table. They look down
at the large aerial photographs.

                  ERINMORE
        Three miles deep. Field
        fortifications, defences and
        artillery the like of which we’ve
        never seen before.

Beat.

                  ERINMORE
        The 2nd are due to attack the line
        shortly after dawn tomorrow. They
        have no idea what they are in for.
        And we can’t warn them - as a
        parting gift, the enemy cut all our
        telephone lines.

Blake and Schofield are silent while they take this in.

                  ERINMORE
        Your orders are to get to the 2nd
        at Croisilles Wood, one mile south
        east of the town of Ecoust.

Erinmore hands over an envelope to Blake. We see the
distinctive red stamp of Army Command.

                  ERINMORE
        Deliver this to Colonel Mackenzie.
        It is a direct order to call off
        tomorrow morning’s attack.

Erinmore speaks slowly, desperate to impress upon Blake and
Schofield the gravity of this situation. Nothing can be
misunderstood.

                  ERINMORE
        If you don’t, it will be a
        massacre. We would lose two
        battalions. Sixteen hundred men,
        your brother among them.

Schofield hides his shock. But Blake looks at Erinmore,
determination etched in his face: understood.

                  ERINMORE
        Do you think you can get there in
        time?
                                                          10.


                    BLAKE
        Yes, Sir.

                  ERINMORE
        Any questions?

                    BLAKE
        No, Sir.

Schofield eyes flick to Blake: No questions? Blake
purposely doesn’t catch Schofield’s eye.

                  ERINMORE
        Good. Over to you, Lieutenant.

The men salute Erinmore. Lieutenant Gordon, stands to one
side.

                  LIEUTENANT GORDON
        Supplies, Gentlemen.

Lt. Gordon nods them over to a table. Various items are
laid out on it.

                  LIEUTENANT GORDON
        Map, torches, grenades, and a
        couple of little treats.

They look. A folded map, two electric torches, two grenades
and two small packs of Huntley and Palmer biscuits lie on
the table. They take them and start hastily putting them
into their webbing. While they do:

                  LIEUTENANT GORDON
        Leave immediately, take this trench
        west, up on Sauchiehall Street,
        then north west on Paradise Alley
        at the front. Continue along the
        front line until you find the
        Yorks.

Gordon slides a note into Blake’s top pocket.

                  LIEUTENANT GORDON
        Give this note to Major Stevenson.
        He’s holding the line at the
        shortest span of No Man’s Land.
        You’ll cross there.

Both men turn at the mention of No Man’s Land.

                    SCHOFIELD
                                                            11.


            It will be daylight, Sir. They’ll
            see us.

                      ERINMORE (O.C.)
            No need to be concerned. You should
            meet no resistance.

    An Orderly hands them back their rifles.

    Blake moves towards the doorway. Schofield turns to
    Erinmore.

                      SCHOFIELD
            Sir, is it just us?

    Erinmore looks up.

                      ERINMORE
            “Down to Gehenna or up to the
            Throne

                      ERINMORE
            He travels the fastest who travels
            alone.” Wouldn’t you say,
            Lieutenant?

                      LIEUTENANT GORDON
            Yes, Sir. I would.

    The General looks at them levelly.

                      ERINMORE
            Good luck.

    Blake and Schofield turn and head through the door-


5   EXT. SECOND LINE TRENCH - CONTINUOUS                          5

    Schofield’s eyes wince in the daylight. A small curved
    branch leads from the rear of the dugout back to the Second
    Line.

                      SCHOFIELD
            Blake - let’s talk about this for a
            minute.

                         BLAKE
            Why?

    Blake is already off, moving fast.
                                                           12.


Schofield moves after him, trying to fill and fasten his
webbing as he goes.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Blake!

Blake begins to move faster, setting a punishing pace.
Boots clattering over the wooden boards.

                  SCHOFIELD
        We just need to think about it-

                  BLAKE
        -There’s nothing to think about.
        It’s my big brother.

Schofield runs to catch up, he falls in behind Blake,
breathing heavy.

                  SCHOFIELD
        We should at least wait till it’s
        dark-

                  BLAKE
        Erinmore said to leave immediately.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Erinmore’s never seen No Man’s
        Land. We won’t make it ten yards.
        If we just wait-

                  BLAKE
        You heard him. He said the Boche
        have gone.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Is that why he gave us grenades?

The Second line runs through a small row of derelict
railway cottages. Braziers have been lit, men mill around
queueing to collect their rations.

Schofield and Blake push themselves to the edge of the
trench to get around the crush.

Blake is through and clear, but Schofield bumps into a
Sergeant.

                  SERGEANT
        Watch where you’re going!

                  SCHOFIELD
        Sorry.
                                                               13.


    Blake keeps pace, Schofield jogs to catch him.

                      SCHOFIELD
            All I’m saying is that we wait.

                      BLAKE
            Yes, you would say that, because
            it’s not your brother, is it?

    Schofield moves alongside Blake again, grabs his arm.

                      SCHOFIELD
            Look, the last time I was told the
            Germans were gone, it didn’t end
            well.

    Blake shakes him off, and pushes his way forward, squeezing
    in and out of the lines of traffic - His shoulder and pack
    battering against MEN as he passes them.

                      SCHOFIELD
            You don’t know, Blake, you weren’t
            there.

    Ahead a group of men are bunched up collecting mail and
    parcels from the post bag. Gumming up the trench.

                      BLAKE
            Excuse me... Excuse me!

    Blake and Schofield squeeze past them.

    Another junction. A painted sign: “SAUCHIEHALL STREET”
    points to a smaller branching comms line. Blake turns up
    it.

    Schofield follows-


6   EXT. SAUCHIEHALL LINE - COMMS “DOWN” TRENCH - CONTINUOUS         6

    Much narrower. Blake pushes onwards, going against the
    direction of the traffic. Schofield follows after him,
    single file, increasingly frustrated. Soldiers buffet
    against them.

    A Sergeant snarls at them.

                      SERGEANT MILLER
            You’re going up a down trench you
            bloody idiots.

                         BLAKE
                                                               14.


            Orders of the General, Sir.

    Schofield follows, catching the ire from the men Blake has
    just passed. He checks his watch.

                      SCHOFIELD
            Alright, say the Boche have gone.
            Nine miles will take us, what, six
            hours? Eight at the very most. So
            we’ve got time to wait until the
            sun sets. Otherwise we’ll be wide
            open-

                      BLAKE
            -It’s enemy territory, we’ve got no
            idea what we’re walking into-

                      SCHOFIELD
            -Blake, if we’re not clever about
            this, no one will get to your
            brother.

                      BLAKE
            I will.

    Blake’s tone indicates that this is the end of the
    conversation.

    They are approaching a junction. They slow down. A flicker
    of fear on both of their faces.

                      SCHOFIELD
            We’re here. This is the front line.


7   EXT. PARADISE - FRONT LINE - TRENCH - CONTINUOUS                 7

    The Front Line.

    A sign hangs on the junction wall: PARADISE ALLEY. Just
    visible above the trench wall to the front is an endless
    line of wire.

                      BLAKE
            Now we need to find the Yorks.

    There is an eeriness here, a sudden smothering silence.

    Blake looks around. Trying to work out which way is North
    West.

    Blake heads in that direction, moving fast again. Schofield
    follows alongside him.
                                                          15.


The trench stretches away from them, in a long line.

Duckboards slick with mud mark out a path.

There are many men here, and many pairs of eyes watch from
the shadows of dugouts.

Crudely painted signs are strung up along the walls, dire
warnings. We catch glimpses as Blake and Schofield pass:

KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN IN DAYLIGHT! ENEMY SNIPERS AT PLAY!

They walk single file down the Front Line.

TWO STRETCHER BEARERS are heading towards them, A MAN
carried between them. Schofield drops back, looks down. The
man is unconscious, his face bandaged - two red bloodstains
in place of eyes.

Fear is rooting itself in Schofield. He fights it.

Schofield looks up, he’s briefly lost sight of Blake round
the next bend. He moves to catch up. He hears voices.

                  PRIVATE STOKES (O.S.)
        Here, watch who you’re shoving.

                  BLAKE (O.S.)
        Get out of the way then.

Schofield’s puts on speed, quickly pushes aside the soldier
in front of him.

He makes his way to Blake, three SOLDIERS have surrounded
him. One, PRIVATE STOKES - a large red-haired bruiser, with
tattoos on his forearms - is gripping Blake’s tunic. Blake
has him by the collar. Both are angry. Blake is on the
verge of tears.

                  BLAKE
        Let go.

                  PRIVATE STOKES
        Fuck you think you are, pushing
        wounded men around?

Schofield is quickly into the fray, putting himself in
between Blake and the Private.

                  BLAKE
        Let go of me!
                                                           16.


                  SCHOFIELD
        Stop.

                  PRIVATE STOKES
        Arsehole knocked our Sergeant down,
        the man’s fucking wounded-

Beside them an NCO with a sling on, is being helped out of
the mud.

                  BLAKE
        Alright. I’m sorry, alright, I’m
        sorry.

Blake struggles to get free, tears of frustration well in
his eyes. Schofield sees this, realises Blake is on the
verge of losing control.

The Private’s hand balls into a fist, his anger simmering.

Schofield gets between them.

                  SCHOFIELD
        We’re on commission. Orders from
        the General.

                  BLAKE
        Let me through.

Stokes stops.

                  SCHOFIELD
             (levelly)
        Get out of the way.

                  PRIVATE STOKES
        Right. Just watch where you’re
        going.

The other men move aside to give them a passage through.

They keep moving. Schofield is a step behind Blake, he
steals glances at him, concerned.

The two men walk on, the silence heavier. After a while -

                  SCHOFIELD
        It’s bloody quiet...

A beat. Blake looks at Schofield.

                  BLAKE
                                                          17.


        Was it like this before Thiepval?

The name does something to Schofield. Fear clings to him.
He pushes it away.

                  SCHOFIELD
        I don’t remember.

                  BLAKE
        You don’t remember the Somme?

                  SCHOFIELD
        Not really.

                  BLAKE
        Well, you did alright out of it. At
        least wear your ribbon.

Beat.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Don’t have it anymore.

They push on round the next bend.

                  BLAKE
        What? You lost your medal?

Before he can answer, the trench suddenly expands - the
back wall has been blown out into a large crater. Debris
and sandbags are strewn around. A small team of DIGGERS
work on it with picks and shovels, breaking up the earth,
pulling out body parts from the mud, putting them in empty
sandbags.

                    SCHOFIELD
        Stay low.

Schofield climbs over the rubble and sandbags, crushing his
body to keep his head below the front parapet.

Blake follows. One of the diggers turns to Schofield, his
voice a harsh whisper.

                  NCO HARVEY
        God’s sake. Careful there, you’re
        stepping on the dead.

Schofield looks at the sandbag, 15 inches by 25. Red is
rusting through it.

                  NCO HARVEY
        That’s our Sergeant -
                                                           18.


Schofield quickly moves off the bag.

                  NCO HARVEY
        Be better washing them out of this
        dugout with a bloody hose.

                  BLAKE
        Do you know where the Yorks are?

                  NCO HARVEY
        The next bend you’ll be standing on
        top of half of them. Shot to hell
        two nights ago.

Blake and Schofield continue. They slip round a bend and
into a small bay.

They stop by two men - one is burning the lice from his
clothes with a lighter Another, BUCHANAN, sits against the
back wall, a small dog on his lap.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Yorks?

Buchanan nods.

                  PRIVATE BUCHANAN
        Yes, Corp.

                  BLAKE
        Where’s Major Stevenson?

                  PRIVATE BUCHANAN
        Killed a couple of nights ago,
        Corporal. Lieutenant Leslie has
        command.

                  BLAKE
        Where can we find him?

Buchanan nods down the line.

                  PRIVATE BUCHANAN
        Next dug-out.

They round the bend and spot the dugout. It has been badly
shelled, but patched and re-built. A fire is lit in a
brazier just outside the door. Inside, a provisions bag and
a few other wooden items hang from a rafter, out of reach
of the rats.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Here.
                                                          19.


LT. LESLIE is asleep on a small camp bed, his arm over his
eyes. A couple of ORDERLIES sit or lie nearby.

They approach the sleeping Leslie.

                   BLAKE
        Sir?

He doesn’t stir. Blake speaks louder.

                  BLAKE
        Lieutenant Leslie, Sir?

Leslie stirs a little, he doesn’t move his arm from his
eyes.

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        What is it?

                  BLAKE
        We have a message from General
        Erinmore.

Leslie looks up, his face shines with sweat, his voice is
croaky, full of flu, a little delirious.

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        Are you our relief?

Schofield shakes his head.

                   SCHOFIELD
        No, Sir.

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        Then when the fucking hell are they
        due?

                  BLAKE
        We don’t know, Sir. But we’ve got
        orders to cross here.

Blake offers the letter.

Leslie sits up. Looks at them queerly.

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        That is the German front line.

                  BLAKE
        We know, Sir. If you’ll just take
        the letter-
                                                        20.


Blake hands over Erinmore’s letter. Leslie sighs, tears it
open and reads quickly.

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
             (as he reads)
        Settle a bet, what day is it?

                  SCHOFIELD
        Friday.

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        Friday. Well, well, well. None of
        us was right. This idiot thought it
        was Tuesday.
             (off the letter)
        Are they out of their fucking
        minds?

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        One slow night, and the brass think
        the Hun have just gone home.

                  SCHOFIELD
             (looking at Blake)
        Do you think they’re wrong, Sir?

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        We lost an officer and three men
        two nights ago. They were shot to
        bits patching up wire. We dragged
        two of them back here. Needn’t have
        bothered.

Blake is determined to press on.

                  BLAKE
        Sir, the General is sure the enemy
        have withdrawn. There are aerials
        of the new line-

Leslie gets to his feet.

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        Shut up. We’ve fought and died over
        every inch of this fucking place,
        now they suddenly give us miles?

Schofield turns and stares at Blake.

Blake won’t meet his eye.

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        It’s a trap.
                                                           21.


Leslie leans in to Schofield.

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        But, chin up. There’s a medal in it
        for sure. Nothing like a scrap of
        ribbon to cheer up a widow.

Schofield stares at him like he would lift him out of his
boots with one punch.

                   LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        Alright.

Leslie walks out of the dugout. As he walks-

                  BLAKE
        Where’s the nearest way through,
        Sir?

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        Our wire’s a mess. But there is a
        path through. Of sorts.

He leads them a few paces to a small dead-end lookout
trench, half earth, half corrugated steel. At the end of it
is a rudimentary periscope.

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
             (to the soldier)
        Rushworth! Let him look.

The soldier manning it steps away to allow them to look.

Blake presses his eye to the lens.

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        Straight ahead, to the left, past
        the dead horses-

Blake squints, moves the periscope. While Blake does this,
Leslie lights a cigarette, his hands shaking.

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        There’s a gap directly behind them.
        Useful, because if it’s dark you
        follow the stench. When you get to
        the second wire, look out for the
        bowing chap. There’s small break
        just beside him.

As Blake scans the terrain with the periscope, Schofield
methodically prepares himself.
                                                           22.


                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        The German line is a hundred and
        fifty odd yards after that. Watch
        out for the craters. They’re deeper
        than they look. You fall in,
        there’s no getting out.

Leslie indicates for them to follow.

                    LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        This way.

Leslie kicks at a sleeping PRIVATE KILGOUR as he walks.

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        Wake up, Kilgour.
             (to himself)
        Bloody waste of space.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Any cover, Sir? Anywhere to jump
        off from?

Leslie leads them to a wide ladder leaning against the
trench wall.

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        No. The sap trench was blown to
        hell weeks ago. It’s full of bodies
        anyway. Your best bet is to pop
        over here.

Blake and Schofield stop by the ladder, ready themselves,
checking and loading their rifles, fixing their bayonets

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        If you do get shot, try to make it
        back to the wire. We won’t come
        after you, not until it’s dark.
        And, if by some fucking miracle you
        do make it, send up a flare.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Don’t have any, Sir.

Leslie gestures impatiently to a nearby PRIVATE KILGOUR.

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        Well get him one, Kilgour! Make
        yourself useful.

                    PRIVATE KILGOUR
        Yes, Sir.
                                                          23.


Kilgour goes to fetch the flare gun, Leslie amuses himself:

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
             (sprinkling whisky on the
             men)
        “Through this holy unction may the
        Lord pardon thee whatever sins or
        faults thou hast committed”

Leslie laughs mirthlessly. Schofield and Blake try to stay
focused.

Kilgour hands Leslie a flare pistol and two cartridges.

                  LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        I do hate losing these to the Hun.
        So when they start shooting at you,
        could you be so kind as to throw it
        back, there’s a good chap.

Blake tucks the flare and cartridges into his pack.

                    LIEUTENANT LESLIE
        Cheerio.

Leslie steps back. A crowd of MEN have now gathered behind
him to watch Blake and Schofield, their faces a combination
of shock and fascination.

Blake and Schofield climb onto the firing step.

Schofield looks at Blake, speaks quietly to him.

                    SCHOFIELD
        You sure?

Blake isn’t. But he nods.

                    BLAKE
        Yes.

Blake goes to climb over. Schofield stops him.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Age before beauty.

Schofield takes a deep breath, and goes first. He puts one
hand over the parapet. Then the other.

Slowly he advances up, his head inching over the protection
of the trench. His hand is shaking, he drives it into the
mud, grasping for purchase.
                                                               24.


    Everyone is still, breathless, listening for the enemy to
    fire.

    Schofield drags his body up and over into -


8   EXT. NO MAN'S LAND - CONTINUOUS                                  8

    Vast, almost unbearably open after the close quarters of
    the trench.

    A light mist hangs low over the land.

    The ground is treacle-like. Schofield’s hands and knees
    sink into it as he pulls himself forward, his eyes are
    trained through the British wire towards the German lines.

    The whole world is lunar and empty. Earth pounded to atoms,
    all mounds and holes.

    Nothing moves. Nothing lives.

    The only sound is Blake’s breathing as he heaves himself
    out of the trench beside Schofield.

    Both men are still for a beat. Hunched down low on their
    knees, two nocturnal animals caught in the daylight.

    British wire runs in loops ahead of them, tangled and
    haphazardly strung. A mess to navigate through.

    They get to their feet and move forwards over the slick
    earth, towards the putrid remains of the horses. Breathing
    through their mouths, trying to deal with the stench.

    A layer of black fur covers the animals, as Schofield and
    Blake close in on them they see the fur is actually flies,
    hundreds of them.

    Schofield moves past the remains and through the first
    break in the wire. The path is pocked with craters and
    puddles, shrapnel litters everything.

    Blake follows Schofield through the channel - ahead, on the
    second wire, is “the bowing chap” - a GERMAN SOLDIER, dead,
    bent double over the wire, one arm outstretched in a
    courtly manner, as if bowing.
                                                           25.


Schofield doesn’t linger on the dead German, doesn’t look
at his face. He focuses on the task at hand. To the side of
the man is a small gap in the razor wire, easy to miss
without the landmark. Schofield struggles to further pull
apart the dense tangle of wire. He indicates for Blake to
pass through.

As he does so, Schofield slips in the mud. His hand
instinctively closes around the wire. It slices into his
palm, hooking into his flesh.

Bright red seeps along his hand, he wrenches it back,
tearing the skin to free himself. A heavy breath hisses out
of him.

He balls his hand into a fist to stem the bleeding.

                  BLAKE (O.C.)
        You alright?

Blake looks at him with concern. Schofield nods that he’s
fine.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Look for cover.

Everything after here is unnatural land. Craters are gouged
out of the earth. There is a rise and fall to this stretch,
but no flow or reason to it.

About a hundred yards from them, in the distance, is an
artificial horizon, something grey, mesh-like, stretching
the entire length of the land - The German Wire. Occasional
dead trees dot the land beyond.

Blake goes into the closest crater. He looks to Schofield,
some silent communication. Schofield’s eyes pull out a path
where there isn’t one.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Sap trench.

Schofield goes first, crouching low, moving faster now,
picking his way towards a hole in the earth.

And then jumps directly into the old sap trench.

Blown out and neglected, it is now little more than a
ditch, but it offers a stretch of cover.

Schofield checks his wounded hand. It pulses blood. He
feels as if he is being watched. He looks around.
                                                           26.


Next to him is the body of a German soldier; face down in
the mud, rats are on the corpse, feasting.

Blake jumps into the sap just next to Schofield. He lands
right next to A DEAD MAN, looking straight at them. He is
sitting up, his lips and eyes have been chewed off by rats.

White teeth grin in a pale face.

Blake reflexively scrambles back in horror, knocking into
Schofield. Schofield slips, reaches out to steady himself,
and grabs at the first thing he finds - the BODY OF THE
GERMAN.

Schofield’s wounded hand lands on the man’s back and sinks
- right through.

Schofield’s cut hand goes into the putrid flesh.

Beside him, Blake is frozen. Panicking.

Schofield gestures to him - ‘stay calm’. Blake tries to
steady himself.

They move further along the side of the sap trench.
Schofield peers out. About eighty yards now to the German
wire.

They gather themselves. Schofield takes the lead. He pulls
himself out of the sap, Blake follows.

They move, crouched low. Watching. Waiting for guns to open
on them.

Silence.

The land is flatter here. There is an eerie feeling of
emptiness and silence. Schofield and Blake keep moving
forwards, trying to stay focused. Crouching to keep low.

The mud is like oil, but some things are solid underfoot.

Outlines of guns, shrapnel, unexploded shells, bodies.

Suddenly a loud sound approaching.

TWO PLANES.

Blake and Schofield both move quickly to the nearest shell-
hole. They throw themselves in and freeze. Keeping the
brims of their helmets low, hiding their faces from the
planes above. Blending in to the landscape around them.
                                                           27.


                  SCHOFIELD
             (Sotto)
        Stay still.

The engines grow louder. The planes fly close overhead, and
then begin to recede into the distance.

Both men now turn their heads to look at them.

                  SCHOFIELD
             (Sotto)
        They’re ours.

Blake nods.

                  SCHOFIELD
             (Sotto)
        Keep going. We’re half way.

They move back out into the open expanse.

Large shell holes appear on either side of them. They pick
their way through them, balancing carefully along the
ridges.

They climb to the top of a small hillock and suddenly on
the other-side - vertigo. The ground falls away steeply in
a mine crater, stories deep.

They look down into it.

                  BLAKE
        There’s a gap in the wire.

We can see the base of the crater: The nearest line of
German wire has been split by the blast, and hangs limply
down the side wall of the crater, the other half of it
disappears into a huge pool of water at its base.

They meet each other’s gaze. An obvious way through the
wire.

It’s clear they need to go down into the crater.

They slide carefully down the steep bank.

At the base of the crater the water is fathomless - the
colour of mucus, and the same consistency. A DEAD GERMAN
floats in it, bloated.

Blake follows in Schofield’s exact footsteps, walking
around the edge of the pool.
                                                           28.


Blake looks into the pool. Things float in it. Bodies. The
pages of a letter, a cigarette tin, a water canteen.

Ahead of them, halfway up the far bank another line of
German wire - the main one - is suspended across the
crater. There is a gap beneath the wire.

They climb up the far bank towards the gap. Blake is
struggling.

                  BLAKE
        Sco...

Schofield helps him up the slope.

The main German wire is a huge thicket of razor wire,
denser than a hedgerow. Using their hands, they dig into
the muddy sides of the crater, and pull themselves upwards,
through the German wire.

Schofield looks - close to him, caught on the wire, a small
clump of human hair blows in the breeze.

Hands and bayonets digging deep into the muddy bank, they
haul themselves out of the crater. Ahead of them is the
German Front Line.

                  BLAKE
        There! That’s the front line.

They lift their rifles and aim them towards the German
line.

Blake moves first. He quickly approaches the German trench.

Schofield is next to him.

Both men suck in a breath and stand tall, leaning over the
German sandbags.

Their rifles sweep in unison down the length of the trench.

Empty. Schofield turns to Blake.

                  BLAKE
        Fuck me. They really have gone.

They look around in awe - this trench is massive,
fortified... and seemingly abandoned. Intermittent shell
holes have levelled large sections.

Blake and Schofield drop down into the trench.
                                                                29.


9    EXT. GERMAN FRONT LINE TRENCH - CONTINUOUS                       9

     This trench is better crafted than the British trench.
     Deeper and well reinforced, and eerily empty. They are
     alone.

     To one side the trench is smashed in. A mountain of earth
     and debris. Blocked.

     Schofield crouches, attends to his bleeding hand. Blood
     oozes out of it.

                       BLAKE
             Your hand alright?

                       SCHOFIELD
             Put it through an effing German.

     Schofield has taken out his canteen, he pours water on his
     sliced up palm. Blake keeps watch.

                       BLAKE
             Patch it up. You’ll be wanking
             again in no time.

                       SCHOFIELD
             Wrong hand.

     Blake laughs.

     Blake moves off, rifle ready. Schofield follows, wrapping a
     bandage round his hand as they move. He tightens the
     dressing with his teeth. Red seeps through the white gauze.

     Ahead of them is a brazier, full of spent white coal dust.

     Blake kicks it over, the white dust crumbles, red embers
     glow - wisps of smoke. Still smouldering.

     Schofield turns to Blake, his eyes are on the embers too.

                       SCHOFIELD
             They’re not long gone.

     Blake hands tighten on his rifle, he pushes off, heading
     east down-


10   EXT. GERMAN COMMS TRENCH - CONTINUOUS                            10

     Blake leads them into the deep, narrow trench. Creeping
     forward quickly, eyes darting ahead, looking for any enemy.
                                                                30.


     The comms trench opens out into-


11   EXT. GERMAN SECOND LINE TRENCH - CONTINUOUS                      11

     Blake hovers by the mouth of the comms trench, peeking out.

     Another dead end.

                         BLAKE
             No good.

     Schofield is at his back. Their eyes scan the empty second
     line trench.

     They push on in silence.

     Their footsteps click and echo over the duckboards. They
     move, bayonets pointed forward.

     The trench takes a sharp turn. Schofield and Blake inch
     round, rifles up, checking.

     Ahead of them the trench is destroyed. A direct hit. Earth,
     sandbags, and huge splinters of timber jut out of the pile
     of dirt.

                         SCHOFIELD
             Blocked.

     It is impassable.

     Next to them is the mouth of a dugout. A doorway.

     Blake peers into the darkness.

     Timber stairs descend two storeys down into the earth.

                       BLAKE
             This might be a way through.

     They click on their torches and move down the stairs.

     Whole tree trunks have been used to reinforce the walls.
     They share a look. The sophistication of the Germans amazes
     them.

     At the foot of the steps, Blake turns the corner.

                         BLAKE (O.S.)
             Jesus...
                                                                31.


     Schofield follows him quickly, the timber creaks under him
     as he rounds into the mouth of-


12   INT. GERMAN DUGOUT - CONTINUOUS                                  12

     He turns the corner and sees Blake, torch in hand.

                       BLAKE
             Look at this. It’s massive.

     The dugout is huge - an entire barracks carved out of the
     chalky earth. It’s ghostly in the torch light.

     Timber struts run along walls and ceilings. Rows of bunk
     beds run along the length of the huge room, stacked up to
     the ceiling.

                       BLAKE
             They built all this.

     Blake and Schofield move through it, their torchlights
     slicing through the darkness. It is palatial compared with
     what we have seen on the British lines.

     Schofield’s eyes land on something - a photograph,
     someone’s wife and child, pinned to a bed frame. Schofield
     stares at it for a beat.

     Blake noses through some of the detritus left behind by the
     Germans, then moves through into:

     The Officer’s Quarters: Iron bed frames, an arm chair, a
     desk. In one corner are the remains of a cooking area, some
     boxes of supplies lie abandoned.

     Next to one of the beds a tunnel stretches away from him
     into the darkness.

                       SCHOFIELD
             Here’s our way through.

                       BLAKE (O.C.)
             Sco - how about this?

     Schofield turns to see Blake sitting on one of the
     officers’ beds, bouncing gently. The springs squeak loudly
     in the silence, he grins. Then movement catches his eye. A
     massive rat gnaws on a canvass sack suspended form the roof
     beams.

                       BLAKE
                                                          32.


        Bloody hell... Even their rats are
        bigger than ours.

By the light of their torches, they can see a large,
bloated rat moving quickly along one of the roof beams.

Their torches follow the rat, as it scampers along the
beam.

The light catches more canvas sacks, all suspended from a
the ceiling. Grease is pooling at the base of them, turning
them translucent - bags of food, or at least an
approximation of it. Other frayed and empty canvas sacks
lie around.

                  BLAKE
        What do you think’s in the bags?

                  SCHOFIELD
        You cannot be that hungry.

Blake thinks for a beat.

The rat makes a leap for one, dropping from the rafter to
the canvas. The bag swings violently under the rat’s
weight, a pendulum in the middle of the room.

                  BLAKE
        Look at him. Cocky little bastard.

Something has caught Schofield’s eye. A crate full of food
tins has been left in the corner. Schofield walks over and
grabs one.

                  SCHOFIELD
        You could eat this, though.

He turns to read the writing in Blake’s torch light:
“Fleischkonserve”

                  BLAKE
        What is it?

Schofield tosses a tin across the room to him. Blake
catches it, reads the label.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Boche dog meat.

                  BLAKE
        What’s in the other boxes?

Schofield goes for the other crate... and freezes.
                                                           33.


                  BLAKE
        What’s wrong?

                  SCHOFIELD
        Trip wire.

Blake stands stock still.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Don’t move.

The two men are frozen.

                  BLAKE
        Where is it?

                  SCHOFIELD
        Goes from here to the door.

Blake’s breath quickens as he scans the room, trying to
pick out the wire in the torchlight... The door is about
ten feet away.

Suddenly -

BAM!

Both men jump - The rat and the canvas bag are on the
floor.

                  BLAKE
        Jesus!

The rat is dragging the canvas bag towards the door to the
next room, desperate to keep its treasure from the two men.

                  BLAKE
        No...no! -

Blake’s eyes go wide, he starts forward for the rat-

The rat lets go of the bag and flees - into the wire. A
flash of blinding light then almost simultaneously-

BOOM!

Impossibly loud. The blast is reflected back in off the
solid walls, a section of roof drops. Dirt and chalk dust
blast outward.

Blake is flung backwards against the wall with a thud.
                                                           34.


White chalk dust swirls in the room, bright in the
torchlight. Blake’s torch lands on the floor, beam pointing
upwards at the ceiling.

For a second there is silence.

Blake begins to pant. The wind is knocked out of him. He
catches his breath.

He feels his head, reaches for his torch. His eyes scan the
room.

His torchlight slices through the dust and smoke. The world
has been turned over. Some parts are buried. And where
Schofield was standing - a pile of rubble.

Panic streaks across his face.

Then there is a sound. Muffled, from deep in the white
dirt.

Screaming.

Schofield is buried.

Blake is on his feet, staggering towards the mound of chalk
and dust. Moving over it, ears to the dirt, listening.

Schofield’s screams slip through it.

Blake frantically begins to dig.

                  BLAKE
        Sco?!

Ripping earth away from one spot, then listening to
Schofield’s muffled screams and moving to another.

Desperation on his face.

                  BLAKE
        SCO!

The screams are getting weaker. Disappearing beneath the
sounds of the timber creaking and groaning.

Blake swims through the earth, sweeping it away-

Schofield’s screams stop.

Blake thrashes in the chalk - at last unearths -
                                                             35.


     Lips. Schofield’s mouth, wide open, filled with pale grey
     dirt. Still.

                         BLAKE
             SCO! SCO!

     Blake tears the chalk away from his mouth and nose and
     suddenly Schofield heaves into life, retches, coughing up
     dirt, sawing in breaths.

     Blake uncovers Schofield’s face, his eyes are packed with
     dirt and chalk. Blake keeps digging, frees Schofield’s arm,
     chest. Schofield thrashes in the debris, trying to free
     himself. He can’t. It’s too tightly packed.

                       BLAKE
             Sco! Wake up! Wake up! Sco!

     Blake grabs at Schofield’s arm and with all his might
     wrenches him out of the dirt.

                       BLAKE
             Sco... Stand up! Stand up! Up! UP!

     Schofield is in shock - numb. Caked in the pale white
     earth.

     His heaves and retches fill the tiny space. His body
     shaking and contorting with shock.

                         BLAKE
             STAND UP!

     The timber is groaning all around them now. Blake looks up
     at it.

                       BLAKE
             The whole thing’s coming down.

     As Blake looks, the chalk dust swirls in the air, drawn
     towards the tunnel entrance, sucked out by the backdraft.

     Their way out.

     Blake stands, half-drags Schofield to his feet. Schofield
     can hardly see out of his dust-filled eyes. Blake pulls him
     over to the tunnel entrance.

                       BLAKE
             You keep hold of me!


13   INT. GERMAN TUNNEL - CONTINUOUS                               13
                                                           36.


Carved through the chalk bedrock. Seven feet high and
reinforced with timber, some of which have already split in
the blast. The tunnel slopes gently down, deeper into the
earth. White walls reflect Blake’s torch.

The earth around them groans, silt and dust piss from the
ceiling.

Schofield coughs and convulses, grasping on to Blake, towed
along in his wake.

The tunnel splits, one fork has been destroyed, Blake pulls
them forward the only way they can go.

                  BLAKE
        We need to keep moving. Come on!

                  SCHOFIELD
        I can’t see - I can’t see!

Blake stops suddenly.

                  BLAKE
        Stop! Stop!

He has kicked a bucket that sits on the lip of a mineshaft.

The bucket drops into the hole, pulleys spinning
ferociously.

                  BLAKE
        Stop. It’s a mineshaft.

Blake looks for a way round it. It has been blown by the
Germans.

                  BLAKE
        We’ll have to jump. Come on!

Blake jumps across it. Schofield is frozen.

                  BLAKE
        You’re going to have to jump! Just
        jump.

                  SCHOFIELD
        I can’t- I can’t see!

Blake wheels around and shines his light on Schofield.

Schofield’s eyes stream with tears and debris, he’s
paralyzed, blinded.
                                                                37.


     Between them is nothing but a gaping hole in the floor,
     fathomless blackness.

     The walls around them groan under the strain. The place is
     coming down.

                       BLAKE
             You need to trust me. Jump!

     Schofield tears in a breath then leaps forwards towards
     Blake.

     Schofield takes off, jumps across the hole and lands hard.

     His back foot slips down the side of the mineshaft, but
     Blake grabs him, and heaves him up.

     Blake pushes forward, Schofield clings to him.

                       BLAKE
             Don’t let go of me! Don’t let go!

     The sound of earth collapsing suddenly fills the tunnel.
     The dugout behind them has collapsed in.

     Ahead there is a fork in the tunnel. Blake spots something
     to his right - a blue haze.

     Daylight.

     He pulls Schofield towards it.

                       BLAKE
             Light! There’s light!

     They scramble forwards. Light begins to flood the passage
     way. They reach the end of the tunnel and stumble out into
     the light.


14   EXT. REAR GERMAN TRENCHES - CONTINUOUS                           14

     Blake scrambles down a small incline, scanning for enemy.

     They are in a large sunken ditch.

     Schofield stands, bent double, at the mouth of the tunnel,
     trying to catch his breath. Both of them are covered with
     chalk dust. They look like pale ghosts.

                       SCHOFIELD
                                                           38.


        Stop... stop. Just...just let me
        stand.

                  BLAKE
        Dirty bastards.

Schofield gathers himself and drops down beside Blake.

Blake pushes on, climbing up a small rise, rifle ready.

Schofield goes after him, shakily.

                  BLAKE
        Careful, they may have left other
        traps.

Blake crests the small berm and looks.

Curving away from him - a quarry. A huge desolate
amphitheatre.

The quarry is several storeys high. Holes and entrances are
carved all over it, like rabbit warrens.

Scattered around is the detritus of war. Several huge
German guns and some small artillery lie damaged and
abandoned.

Small mountains of brass - thousands of spent shell
casings.

                  BLAKE
        Jesus.

Blake sweeps his rifle around, searching for any threat.
This place is abandoned.

Schofield makes it to the top of the berm, and drops down
to the ground, trying to clean out his eyes.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Dust... so much dust in my eyes.

He empties the remaining water from his canteen onto his
face.

Blake approaches Schofield, hands him his canteen.
Schofield washes the chalk off of his face.

                  BLAKE
        Here. Have some of mine.
                                                         39.


Blake crouches beside him. He watches him, concerned.

                  BLAKE
        I wish I’d shot that rat now.

Schofield turns on him, sharp.

                  SCHOFIELD
        And I wish you’d picked some other
        bloody idiot.

                  BLAKE
        What?

                  SCHOFIELD
        Why in God’s name did you have to
        choose me?

Schofield checks his pockets - takes out small tobacco tin.

Checks inside it. His hands are shaking badly.

                  BLAKE
        I didn’t know what I was picking
        you for.

                  SCHOFIELD
        No, you didn’t. You never know.
        That’s your problem.

Blake is stung.

                  BLAKE
        Alright then, go back. Nothing’s
        stopping you. You can go all the
        way bloody home if you want.

At the mention of home Schofield turns on him sharply.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Don’t.

A beat. Schofield puts the tobacco tin back in his pocket.

                  BLAKE
             (calmer now)
        Look, I didn’t know what I was
        picking you for. I thought they
        were going to send us back up the
        line, or for food, or something. I
        thought it was going to be
        something easy, alright? I never
        thought it would be this.
                                                           40.


A beat.

                    BLAKE
          So do you want to go back?

Schofield looks at him, softening.

                    SCHOFIELD
          Just fire the fucking flare.

He loads and lifts the flare, and looks back towards the
British lines.

                    BLAKE
               (under his breath)
          Up yours, Lieutenant...

He fires it straight up. The light streaks through the sky.

He watches it drop.

Blake tosses the flare gun, lowers his hand to Schofield
and helps him up.

Schofield stands unsteadily. Blake studies his compass,
getting his bearing.

                    SCHOFIELD
          Do you know where we are?

                    BLAKE
          Ecoust is directly south east. If
          we keep that bearing, we should
          make it.

He looks in the direction Blake is facing - the land rolls
gently down, a trampled road leads out of the quarry, a
shattered copse of trees juts out of the earth. Charred and
black.

Schofield nods. Blake stows the compass. Raises his rifle.

                    BLAKE
          Come on then.

They begin to walk.

Blankets, ammunition, guns, bayonets, shells. All have been
abandoned in this place. They pass the remains of artillery
- the gun barrels have been blown out.

                    BLAKE
                                                        41.


        Look at that. They destroyed their
        own guns...

                  SCHOFIELD
        They destroyed their own trenches
        too.

                  BLAKE
        What do you mean?

                  SCHOFIELD
        I think they wanted us to go that
        way. They wanted to bury us.

They walk.

A noise startles them both. They turn to the source, ready
to fire -

A large rat scuttles over A DEAD GERMAN. Blake kicks a rock
at it. It scatters.

                  BLAKE
        Bastard rats.

Blake looks across at Schofield. He is still shaking
slightly.

They walk, watchful. Eventually:

                  BLAKE
        Hey - did you hear that story about
        Wilko? How he lost his ear?

                  SCHOFIELD
        I’m not in the mood. Keep your eyes
        on the trees, top of the ridge.

Blake watches the top of the slope. They walk.

                  BLAKE
        Bet he told you it was shrapnel.

Beat.

                  SCHOFIELD
        What was it then?

                  BLAKE
                                                             42.


             Well, you know his girl’s a
             hairdresser, right? And he was
             moaning about the lack of bathing
             facilities when he wrote to her -
             remember those rancid jakes at
             Arras?

     Schofield nods - they were disgusting.

                       BLAKE
             Anyway, she sends him over this
             ‘hair oil’. Smells sweet, like
             Golden Syrup. Wilko loves the
             smell, but he doesn’t want to cart
             it around in his pack, so-

     They continue into the-


15   EXT. SHATTERED COPSE - CONTINUOUS                             15

     They tread carefully over the battered earth. It’s littered
     with casings and flecks of metal.

                       BLAKE
             He slathers it all over his barnet,
             goes to sleep and in the middle of
             the night he wakes up, and a rat is
             sitting on his shoulder licking the
             oil off of his head!

     Schofield begins to laugh, despite himself.

                       BLAKE
             Wilko panics and he jumps up and
             when he does - the rat bites clean
             through his fucking ear and runs
             off with it!

     They are both laughing quietly.

                       BLAKE
             Oh, he made a hell of a fuss,
             yelling, screaming.

     The ground sweeps gently downward out of the burnt copse.

     Living things return to the world in small patches.

                       BLAKE
                                                          43.


        Best of it was he put so much
        bloody oil on himself that he
        couldn’t wash it off! He was like a
        magnet. Rats left us alone, but
        they couldn’t get enough of him.
        Poor bastard.

They emerge from the copse, scanning the surroundings. They
appear to be alone.

Above, far in the distance, the same two British planes
seem to hover in the sky, arcing back towards British
lines.

Schofield looks up at them.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Heading back home.
             (beat)
        I wonder what they saw...

Schofield pulls his eyes away from the planes. The two men
briefly scan the land around them.

                  BLAKE
        Watch the ridge lines.

They move off again. Blake’s eyes stick to the left,
Schofield’s scan the right. After a beat.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Well that’s your medal sorted then.

                  BLAKE
        What do you mean?

They continue walking.

                  SCHOFIELD
        “Lance Corporal Blake showed
        unusual valour in rescuing a
        comrade from certain death” blah,
        blah, blah.

                  BLAKE
        You reckon?

                    SCHOFIELD
        I do.

Blake is pleased.

                    BLAKE
                                                44.


          Well, that’d be nice. Since you
          lost yours.

A beat.

                    SCHOFIELD
          I didn’t lose mine.

Schofield keeps walking.

                    BLAKE
          What happened to it, then?

                    SCHOFIELD
          Why do you care?

                    BLAKE
          Why do you not?

Beat.

                    SCHOFIELD
          I swapped it with a French captain.

                    BLAKE
          Swapped it? For what?

                    SCHOFIELD
          Bottle of wine.

                    BLAKE
          What did you do that for?

                    SCHOFIELD
          I was thirsty.

                    BLAKE
          What a waste.
               (beat)
          You should have taken it home with
          you, you should have given it to
          your family.

Schofield doesn’t respond.

                    BLAKE
          Men have died for that.

No response.

                   BLAKE
                                                               45.


             If I got a medal, I’d take it back
             home, why didn’t you just take it
             home-

                       SCHOFIELD
             Look it’s just a bit of bloody tin!
             It doesn’t make you special, it
             doesn’t make any difference to
             anyone.

                       BLAKE
             Yes it does.

     Beat.

                       BLAKE
             And it’s not just a bit of tin.
                  (then)
             It’s got a ribbon on it.

     Schofield laughs, exasperated.

     Then he turns to Blake, looks at him.

                       SCHOFIELD
             I hated going home. I hated it.
             When I knew I couldn’t stay. When I
             knew I had to leave them, and they
             might never see me-

     He chokes up. Fights with himself for a moment. Then he
     turns and walks ahead.

     Blake watches him, feeling guilty. Then he follows.

     Up ahead, Schofield is approaching the remains of a walled
     orchard. He stops at the gate.


16   EXT. WALLED ORCHARD - CONTINUOUS                                16

     The near wall has partially collapsed in a mound of rubble.

     Beyond it cherry trees litter the ground. All have been cut
     down, felled in the wanton destruction of the German
     retreat.

     Pale blossoms swim all around, ruffled by the wind.

     Schofield looks at it all.

                       SCHOFIELD
                  (to himself)
                                                        46.


        Jesus. They chopped them all down.

Blake has followed him, a little guiltily. Wanting to
apologise, but unsure how. He takes in the orchard.

                    BLAKE
        Cherries.

Blake looks at one of the trees. He reaches down, picks a
blossom, holds it up.

                    BLAKE
        Lamberts.

They begin to walk through the felled trees.

                  BLAKE
        They might be Dukes, hard to tell
        when they aren’t in fruit.

                  SCHOFIELD
        What’s the difference?

Blake is a little wry, sensing Schofield softening.

                  BLAKE
        Well people think there’s one type,
        but there’s lots of them -
        Cuthberts, Queen Annes,
        Montmorencys. Sweet ones, sour
        ones...

                  SCHOFIELD
        Why on earth would you know this?

                  BLAKE
        Mum’s got an orchard, back home.
        Only a few trees. This time of year
        it looks like it’s been snowing,
        blossom everywhere. And then in
        May, we have to pick them. Me and
        Joe. Takes the whole day.

A pang of homesickness creeps into Blake as he and
Schofield clamber over a downed tree. They are now
alongside each other.

Schofield registers this.

                  SCHOFIELD
        So, these ones all gonners?

                    BLAKE
                                                           47.


        Oh no, they’ll grow again when the
        stones rot. You’ll end up with more
        trees than before.

A large wall borders the lower end of the orchard, still
intact. Schofield arrives at the gate.

Ahead of them, visible through the gate is a small valley.
In the valley lie the remains of a French farmhouse,
abandoned.

It is utterly derelict now - the roof is just a skeleton of
beams. Next to it is a clapboard barn, ragged with shell
holes.

Schofield and Blake peer through the gate at the small
collection of buildings below. Everything is still.

Schofield looks anxiously at the farmhouse.

                  BLAKE
        It looks abandoned.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Let’s hope so.

                  BLAKE
        We have to make sure.

Schofield leads the way, he moves through the gate
cautiously, rifle raised. Blake follows.

They slip down the hill. They are in an old pigsty,
surrounded by a broken fence, which runs down to the murky
water of a pond.

Carefully, as he walks, Schofield scans the buildings
ahead.

The wind rustles the long grass. An ominous atmosphere
pervades this place.

They approach the farmhouse.

                  SCHOFIELD
             (sotto)
        I’ll take front, you take back.

They split. Blake disappears round the back, Schofield
moves towards the front door.

A DEAD DOG lies by the path.
                                                                48.


     Schofield looks at it for a beat. His hands tighten on his
     rifle, as he braces himself for what might be inside.

     Schofield quickly walks up the small front path, through
     the open door.


17   INT. FRENCH FARMHOUSE - HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS                     17

     He is still for a moment on the threshold, breath held,
     listening for any sounds of life in the house.

     The silence burns.

     Schofield enters. The only sounds now are the floor boards
     creaking under his boots.

     This place has been trashed by the soldiers who were here.

     Schofield turns right into -


18   INT. FRENCH FARMHOUSE - BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS                     18

     Schofield moves through the bedroom. Empty. He moves back
     into-


19   INT. FRENCH FARMHOUSE - HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS                     19

     Schofield crosses the hallway. He spots Blake through the
     window.

                          BLAKE
             Anything?

                          SCHOFIELD
             Nothing.

     Schofield moves forward towards the kitchen. Something
     catches his eye.

     A child’s doll sits on the floor. Cigarette burns on its
     eyes.

     Schofield looks at it for a beat. Then moves into the
     kitchen.


20   INT. FRENCH FARMHOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS                     20

     Low, dusty light streaks in from the smashed windows.
                                                                49.


     Schofield takes in the room. Blake enters through the back
     door.

                       BLAKE
             Did you find any food?

                       SCHOFIELD
             No.
                  (beat)
             I don’t like this place.

     He moves out through the back door-


21   EXT. REAR FRENCH FARMHOUSE - CONTINUOUS                          21

     Schofield moves across the barren yard to a dilapidated
     barn.


22   INT. BARN - CONTINUOUS                                           22

     Remnants and debris are scattered around.

     The low sounds of a cow echo from the fields beyond.

     Schofield looks - a single COW stands in the field. Two or
     three other dead cows lie near it.

     Schofield turns, scanning the barn floor. He peers into a
     milk urn, it’s empty.

     Close by there is a bucket, lid half on.

     He tips the lid off with his foot -

     Milk.

     He kneels and smells it, then lowers in a hand and lifts
     some to his mouth. It’s been months since he tasted
     anything as good.

     Behind him, Blake exits the farmhouse.

                       BLAKE
             Map says we get over that ridge and
             it’s a straight shot to Ecoust.

                       SCHOFIELD
             Good.
                                                                50.


     He takes out his empty canteen and pours milk into it,
     fills it to the brim.

     The huge door at back of the barn is open to the fields.

     The drone of plane engines through the doorway catches
     Schofield’s attention.

     Schofield spots planes through the barn door. He moves
     towards them to get a better look. Entranced.

     He moves outside to watch.


23   EXT. REAR FRENCH FARMHOUSE - CONTINUOUS                          23

     Schofield wanders out away from the barn. He looks up into
     the grey sky.

     Three planes - a dogfight. Tiny at this distance, insect-
     like.

     Schofield’s eyes follow them keenly: Two British fighters
     against one German.

     The violence is so far removed from him that it looks
     balletic. Beautiful even. He moves towards them to get a
     better look.

     The planes twist and circle in the air, engines droning and
     whining as the planes dip and rise.

                       BLAKE (O.S.)
             Is that our friends again?

                       SCHOFIELD
             Looks like it. Dogfight.

                       BLAKE
             Who’s winning?

                       SCHOFIELD
             Us, I think. Two on one.

     The two of them stand looking up at the majesty of it.

     Then, in the distance, the German plane begins to trail
     black smoke.

     The hum of the German engine fails. The two British planes
     follow it, hammering away on their guns until it is clear
     that there is no hope for the German.
                                                                51.


                       BLAKE
             They got him...

     The German plane coasts silently towards the earth.

     Blake and Schofield watch as it gets closer and closer.

     Hypnotised.

     From the bend of wings you can tell the PILOT is trying to
     glide. Trying and failing.

     The plane drops like a leaf, catching updrafts only to
     suddenly dip again - aiming for the fields some distance
     ahead of them.

     The plane dips. Wobbles. Fighting to stay up. It banks
     left, and drops below the horizon.

     Schofield walks forwards to have a better look. Then
     suddenly, the plane reappears over the horizon, flying very
     low. It is heading straight at them.

     Schofield realises they are in the path of the plane. He
     begins backing away, retreating towards the house.

     The plane is much closer now, behind them as they run. They
     can’t make it back to the house.

     Schofield and Blake throw themselves down on the ground,
     pressing themselves into the earth as the plane screams in
     their direction, smashing into the barn directly behind
     them.

     Black smoke pours from the plane and the shattered skeleton
     of the barn.

     The fire is quick, licking along the old wood.


24   INT. BARN - CONTINUOUS                                           24

     Smoke billows from the plane. Inside it someone is
     screaming.

     Blake moves first, he runs into the barn, Schofield tailing
     him.

     Tongues of fire whip out from the engine, the pilot is
     inside. Burning.
                                                                52.


     Flames lick at his mangled legs and torso, his gloved hands
     cover his face.

     Blake grabs at the man, the back of his hand touches the
     yoke as he tries to free the pilot - he cries out as the
     metal sears his skin.

     Schofield tears open the pilot’s strap and together they
     wrench him free, dragging him from the remains of the
     cockpit, and pulling his body through the smoke.

     The Pilot’s legs are on fire.

                       PILOT
             Meine beine! Meine beine! Hilf mir!
             Hilf mir!

                       PILOT
             My legs! My legs! Help me! Help me!


25   EXT. REAR FRENCH FARMHOUSE - CONTINUOUS                          25

     Schofield and Blake drag the pilot by his shoulders - the
     true extent of his injuries laid bare in the daylight.

     The flames have done bad damage. His trousers have been
     partially burnt off, blood streaks down his legs.

     The Pilot’s blue eyes dart at them, in agony. He shivers
     violently with shock, his lips form words, his voice is a
     harsh whisper.

     (N.B. None of the German dialogue will be subtitled. We
     should understand only what Blake and Schofield
     understand.)

                       PILOT
             Lazarett, Kamerad. Bitte. Bitte.
             Wasser. Water.

                       PILOT
             Military hospital, comrade. Please.
             Please. Water. Water.

     They look down at the Pilot, shocked, unsure of what to do.

     Schofield turns to Blake.

                       SCHOFIELD
                  (sotto to Blake)
             We should put him out of his
             misery.
                                                           53.


Schofield and Blake share a look.

                  BLAKE
        No. Get him some water. He needs
        water.

Blake kneels beside the pilot, gently cradles his head on
his knees. The pilot struggles, terrified and in pain.

Schofield moves to the water pump, his back to Blake and
the Pilot.

                  BLAKE (O.S.)
        It’s alright, you’re alright. Stay
        still. Stay still...

                  PILOT
        Bitte töte mich nicht. Ich möchte
        leben.

                  PILOT
        Please help me, I don’t want to
        die.

Schofield works the pump, the levers screeching as the
mechanism creaks back to life.

Creak- creak-

Orange water cascades out, slapping into the metal trough.

Schofield keeps cranking the squeaking handle, it almost
drowns out the voices behind him.

Creak- creak-

Schofield collects the water in his helmet.

Creak- creak-

Then suddenly - shouting.

From behind him, piercing through the other sounds.

                  BLAKE
        Stop...Stop!

Schofield turns, starts forward.

Blake screams in agony. Schofield moves towards him,
confusion on his face, until he sees-
                                                           54.


A bloody knife in the pilot’s hand, pulled out of Blake’s
abdomen.

                  SCHOFIELD
        No, no, no!

Schofield grabs his rifle-

He fires two shots into the pilot, killing him outright.

Blake is looking down at his own bloody hands.

                  BLAKE
        Bastard, bloody bastard.

Blake gets to his feet, breathing heavy. Clutching his
abdomen, he staggers away from the pilot’s body.

                  BLAKE
        Oh, God no. Oh, God no.

Schofield watches him, scared.

Blake goes for his dressings, he clumsily pulls them out of
his pocket, they unspool in his shaking hands.

Blood is seeping through Blake’s tunic. He drops to his
knees. He looks down at his own blood and sobs.

                  BLAKE
        Jesus. Jesus, no.

Schofield moves forward, grabs the dressing, just as Blake
drops down to the ground.

                  SCHOFIELD
        We have to stop the bleeding.

Schofield wads the dressing, he moves Blake’s hand and
pushes the white bandage hard against Blake’s tunic, trying
to stem the blood.

Blake shouts in pain.

                  BLAKE
        Stop it. Stop it!

Schofield tries to calm him.

                  SCHOFIELD
        It’s alright, it’s going to be
        alright. We’re going to stand up.
                                                           55.


Schofield wraps his hands around Blake’s webbing.

                    BLAKE
        Yes. Yes.

Blake sets his feet. Schofield wrenches him up. Blake
screams in agony.

                  BLAKE
        No! I can’t. I can’t.

They drop back down.

Blake is pale, blood is pumping out of him, his lips are
already grey.

                  SCHOFIELD
        We have to get to an Aid Post.

                    BLAKE
        I can’t.

                  SCHOFIELD
        I’ll carry you. It isn’t very far.

                  BLAKE
        Just bring a doctor here.

Schofield looks around for help, there isn’t any. They are
alone.

                  SCHOFIELD
        We can’t, we have to go together-

Schofield looks at Blake, desperation in his eyes.

                  SCHOFIELD
        We’re going to get up. We’re going
        to get up.

Schofield moves behind Blake, grabs him under his arms. He
lifts Blake, but Blake cannot support his own weight, his
legs buckle.

                  BLAKE
        Stop, please! Stop!

Schofield holds him up. Begins to drag him.

Schofield keeps trying to drag Blake. The more Blake
struggles the more blood pisses out of his wound.
                                                        56.


Blake is suddenly wild, he screams like an animal, flailing
savagely, clawing at Schofield’s chest and neck, spitting
blood, struggling against him.

                    BLAKE
          Put me down! Put me down, you
          bastard, please! Put me down!

They fall backwards.

Schofield moves to face Blake.

Blake’s whole face is colourless now.

Schofield looks down. His eyes land on Blake’s dressing. It
is scarlet now, sopping wet with blood. He swaps it for a
fresh dressing. Panic swarms him.

                    SCHOFIELD
          You have to try to keep moving.

Blake is weakening.

                    BLAKE
          Let’s just sit... let me sit.

                    SCHOFIELD
          We can’t. We have to find the 2nd.
          Remember? Your brother. We have to
          go now...

Schofield stares down at Blake, he’s not lucid anymore. His
eyes are already glazing.

                    BLAKE
          You can start on without me. I’ll
          catch up.

                    SCHOFIELD
          You can’t stay here. We have to
          move, alright? We have to move.

A beat.

                    SCHOFIELD
          Come on. Come on. That’s it. Come
          on, come on...

Schofield wraps one arm around Blake’s back, the other
round his legs, he gets to his feet and with all his might
he heaves Blake upward. Blake howls in pain.

Schofield screams with the effort, giving it all he’s got.
                                                         57.


But Blake is a dead weight. He can’t lift him.

They drop. Schofield looks at him, desperate.

                    SCHOFIELD
          Your brother. We have to find your
          brother.

Blake’s breathing is coming in short bursts.

                    BLAKE
          You’ll recognise him. Looks like
          me...a bit older.

Schofield holds Blake’s head up. He looks impotently around
for help.

Behind them the barn is crumbling in on itself, scarlet
embers drift across the sky, carried on the breeze. Blake
stares up at them, confused.

                    BLAKE
          What are they? Are we being
          shelled?

                    SCHOFIELD
          They’re embers, the barn is on
          fire.

Blake looks bewildered. Then some pain creeps into his
eyes, some awful knowledge.

                    BLAKE
          I’ve been hit... What was it?

Schofield looks down at him, unsure how to answer.

                    SCHOFIELD
          You were stabbed.

Blake looks surprised. His hand feels dumbly for his wound.

It lands on Schofield’s - he’s holding down the tunic,
stemming what blood he can.

There is blood on Blake’s lips. His breathing is becoming
laboured.

                    BLAKE
          Am I dying?

A beat.
                                                           58.


                  SCHOFIELD
        Yes, I think you are.

An “Oh” forms on Blake’s lips. Profound sadness follows the
shock.

Blake reaches up slowly, and taps his tunic pocket,
Schofield guesses his meaning - goes to the pocket, pulls
out a wallet.

                    SCHOFIELD
        This?

                    BLAKE
        Inside...

Schofield opens the cover, inside are a bunch of letters,
and a photograph - Blake, his mother, and his brother Joe.

Schofield holds it up for Blake to see: yes, that’s what I
want.

Schofield puts the photograph in Blake’s hand, he presses
it to his breast.

                  BLAKE
        Will you write to my mum for me?

                    SCHOFIELD
        I will.

                  BLAKE
        Tell her I wasn’t scared.

Schofield nods.

A long beat. Schofield lets go of the pressure on Blake’s
wound. He holds his hand.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Anything else?

Blake is slipping away, tears well and roll down his
cheeks.

                  BLAKE
        I love them...I wish that... I
        wish...

It’s half strangled by sadness. A long beat. Schofield
holds him. Death is close, stiffening Blake’s body, it’s
already in his eyes.
                                                        59.


                  BLAKE
        Talk to me.

Schofield looks at Blake, he has no idea what to say.

                  BLAKE
        Tell me you know the way.

                  SCHOFIELD
        I know the way. I’m going to head
        south east until I hit Ecoust.

Blake listens.

                  SCHOFIELD
        I’ll pass through the town and out
        to the east, all the way to
        Croisilles Wood.

                  BLAKE
             (faint)
        It’ll be dark by then.

                  SCHOFIELD
        That won’t bother me... I’ll find
        the 2nd, I’ll give them the
        message, and then I’ll find your
        brother. Just like you, a little
        older...

He stops. Blake is no longer breathing.

Without the lines of worry or agony on his face Blake looks
very young.

Schofield is still for a moment, cradling the head of
Blake.

A long beat. Behind Schofield the barn is collapsing in on
itself.

The smoke has risen several stories into the sky.

Schofield looks at Blake. Desperate.

Then, he snaps out of it. With sudden determination, he
rummages through the pockets of Blake’s tunic - takes the
message for the 2nd, blood from his hands smudges on the
envelope.

He stows it safely in his top pocket. He pulls out the map
from Blake’s tunic. It is saturated in blood. Illegible.
                                                           60.


Schofield throws it away.

He takes Blake’s rings from his lifeless hands, then opens
his tunic and goes for Blake’s identity disc, tearing it
off of the twine.

He pries the photograph from Blake’s dead hand, looks at
it, then leaves it face down over his heart, inside his
tunic.

Schofield looks around them, beside the pond is a patch of
long grass.

Schofield heaves Blake’s torso up - the endeavour entirely
different now Blake is dead.

Nothing is heavier than the dead body of someone you loved.

                  PRIVATE PARRY (O.S.)
        You alright, mate?

Schofield looks up, shocked to see TWO BRITISH PRIVATES -
PARRY and ATKINS.

                  PRIVATE ATKINS
        It’s alright, it’s okay.

                  PRIVATE PARRY
        Come on, help him.

Parry and Atkins move forward and take Blake’s legs.
Together the three of them move Blake to the long grass. As
they move him:

                  PRIVATE ATKINS
        Jesus, what happened to him?

Schofield doesn’t answer.

                  PRIVATE PARRY
        Was it the plane? We saw the smoke.

Schofield nods.

                    SCHOFIELD
               (sotto)
        Yes.

They lower Blake down. Schofield kneels by his head. Lost.

A gentle voice, off camera.
                                                           61.


                    CAPTAIN SMITH (O.S.)
          Go fetch his things.

                      PRIVATE PARRY
          Sir.

                      PRIVATE ATKINS
          Yes, Sir.

Parry and Atkins go to collect Schofield’s helmet and
rifle.

                    CAPTAIN SMITH
               (quietly)
          A friend?

Schofield nods. He kneels beside Blake’s body. Impotent.

A beat.

                    CAPTAIN SMITH
          What are you doing here?

                    SCHOFIELD
          I have an urgent message for the
          2nd Devons. Orders to stop tomorrow
          morning’s attack.

                    CAPTAIN SMITH
          Where are they stationed?

                    SCHOFIELD
          Just beyond Ecoust.

                    CAPTAIN SMITH
          Come with me.

Smith heads back towards the farmhouse. Schofield doesn’t
move. He can’t look away from Blake.

Smith stops, turns back.

                    CAPTAIN SMITH
          Come with me, Corporal. That’s an
          order.

Schofield looks up at him.

                    CAPTAIN SMITH
          We’re passing through Ecoust. We
          can take you some of the way.
                                                                62.


                        SCHOFIELD
             Sir.

     Using the grass, he wipes Blake’s blood from off his hands.

     He stands, drags his eyes away from Blake’s body and then
     moves after Smith.

     He collects his rifle and helmet from Parry then follows
     Smith through the farmhouse and back out into-


26   EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - CONTINUOUS                                   26

     A small convoy of four trucks idle on the road, all caked
     in mud and battered from their journey. Soldiers mill,
     smoking, pissing, stretching their legs.

     At the head of the small convoy is an Officer’s car.
     Exhaust fumes swirl in the still air.

                       COLONEL COLLINS (O.S.)
             Oh, come on Sergeant. Put more men
             at the base. At the trunk! It’ll be
             heavier there...

     The trucks are filled to the brim with SOLDIERS - a mixture
     of seasoned fighters and fresh recruits. All are covered in
     the mud of No Man’s Land.

                       CAPTAIN SMITH
             Might be a tight squeeze.

     They move towards the Officer’s car. Mud hardens on the
     undercarriage and the wheel arches.

                       COLONEL COLLINS
             No. You’re not going to be able to
             just lift it. Pivot the front end
             to the left-

     At the front of the convoy a large tree trunk blocks the
     road, like the cherry blossoms, felled on purpose, trunk
     neatly chopped. Several PRIVATES and an NCO are gathered
     around trying to lift it.

     A Colonel, COLLINS (corpulent, sweating) barks orders from
     the front seat of the car.

     Smith and Schofield approach the car.

                         COLONEL COLLINS
                    (to the driver)
                                                           63.


        Jesus. They don’t make things easy
        do they. They could at least have
        retreated with a bit of grace.
        Bastards.

                   CAPTAIN SMITH
        Sir-

Collins turns and looks down on Smith and Schofield, his
face registering confusion.

                  COLONEL COLLINS
             (registering Schofield)
        You’re not one of mine.

                   SCHOFIELD
        No, Sir.

Collins looks at Smith for explanation.

                  CAPTAIN SMITH
        He’s got an urgent message to
        deliver to the 2nd Devons, Sir.

Collins’ attention is drawn back to the tree, the men have
managed to shift it a few feet to the left.

                  COLONEL COLLINS
             (To the driver)
        Can you get past it?

                   SERGEANT HARROP (O.S.)
        No, Sir.

                  COLONEL COLLINS
        Oh, for God’s sake.
             (Loudly, to the men)
        Just move it!

                  CAPTAIN SMITH
        There’s room in the casuals truck,
        sir. He has orders-

                  COLONEL COLLINS
        Yes, yes, alright.
             (to Harrop)
        Come on now. You can get through
        there sideways.

The car begins to roll forward.

Smith moves off, as the Colonel’s car begins to manoeuvre
its way around the felled tree.
                                                        64.


Smith and Schofield walk past the row of trucks, all packed
with soldiers. Schofield takes it in.

                  SCHOFIELD
        How did you get here, Sir?

                  CAPTAIN SMITH
        Crossed No Man’s Land just outside
        Bapaume. Took us the whole night.
        Bumped into a couple of Hun
        stragglers on the way who made a
        nuisance of themselves.

                  SCHOFIELD
        You going up to the new line?

                  CAPTAIN SMITH
        Attempting to. The Newfoundlands
        have pushed forwards and requested
        reinforcements.

They approach the last truck. Smith looks at him.

                  CAPTAIN SMITH
        I’m sorry about your friend.

Schofield nods.

                  CAPTAIN SMITH
        May I tell you something that you
        probably already know?

They stop. Schofield looks to him.

                  CAPTAIN SMITH
        It doesn’t do to dwell on it.

                   SCHOFIELD
        No, Sir.

They have reached the rear of the fourth and final truck.
TWO or THREE PRIVATES mill by the rear step, smoking. They
stand to attention when the see the Captain.

                  CAPTAIN SMITH
             (to Schofield)
        Hop on.

Smith speaks to the soldiers.

                  CAPTAIN SMITH
        Make some space there... Come on,
        in you get!
                                                                65.


     A bit of grumbling as the soldiers try to make space for
     him.

     A couple of the men help him up and into-


27   INT. ARMY TRUCK - CONTINUOUS                                     27

     Twenty men, an amalgamation of companies - some SCOTS, some
     SIKHS, are crammed in here. Schofield makes space for
     himself on the fringe. The men don’t look at Schofield,
     don’t much care about the hitch-hiker.

     They are quiet for a beat, until Smith’s footsteps die away
     and the sound of the engine rumbles.

     Schofield sits silently.

                       PRIVATE COOKE
             Alright. Here we go again boys.

                       PRIVATE ROSSI
             Welcome aboard the night bus to
             fuck-knows-where.

                       PRIVATE COOKE
             Is that a dead dog?

     No one answers him.

     Schofield looks out of the back, watching the road and the
     farmhouse disappear behind him.

                       PRIVATE BUTLER
                  (To Rossi)
             You got a fag?

     Rossi hands one over.

                       PRIVATE ROSSI
             Yeah, there you go.

     They light their cigarettes.

                       PRIVATE COOKE
                  (sotto)
             Butler... Oy. Carry on with that
             story.

                       PRIVATE BUTLER
                  (sotto)
                                                           66.


        Oh yeah, Right. So. When we get off
        the train, Beaufoy comes up to us
        and he’s having a right go -
             (He attempts a posh
             accent, complete with
             lisp)
        “Lance Corporal! Whatever one does,
        one never lets standards slip!”
        Then Scott comes out of the
        latrine, he wipes his hand on the
        back of Beaufoy’s jacket! Shit all
        down his back.

Laughter.

                  PRIVATE COOKE
        Was that meant to be Captain
        Beaufoy?

                  PRIVATE BUTLER
        Oh, piss off you. You can’t do any
        better.

Schofield pulls his bloody tunic tight around himself,
watches. He almost disappears into the noise of the men.

                  PRIVATE COOKE
             (Impersonating the lisp)
        “MEN! Your rifle stocks are an
        embarrassment to the entire
        expeditionary force.”

                  SEPOY JONDALAR
        You’re both bloody awful.

                  PRIVATE COOKE
        You don’t know, you barely even
        speak the bloody language.

                  PRIVATE MALKY
        He’s got a better grasp of it than
        you, Cooke.

                  PRIVATE COOKE
        Go on then Jondalar, give it a go,
        let’s see it!

The men are getting rowdier. We watch Schofield as they
grate on his quiet grief.

                  PRIVATE ROSSI
        Let’s hear it then Jonny!
                                                          67.


The men noisily encourage him.

                  SEPOY JONDALAR
             (Much the best
             impersonation - perfect
             lisp, gestures)
        “Rossi! Never in my two hundred
        years as a soldier have I seen such
        a sorry excuse for a latrine pit-”

The men are all laughing, enjoying it.

                  PRIVATE COOKE
        Shite. That is total shit!

Cooke gets shouted down by the men. Someone chucks a
canteen at Cooke, misses.

                  PRIVATE COOKE
        Oy! You could have taken my teeth
        out with that.

                  PRIVATE ROSSI
        You could do with a new set.

Schofield is still. The laughter settles.

After a beat Schofield checks his wristwatch. BUTLER sees
it.

                  PRIVATE BUTLER
        You got somewhere you need to be?

The men all look at him.

Suddenly, the truck lurches violently. Schofield bumps into
a man near him. The engine groans under them. The sounds of
tyres spinning.

                    PRIVATE ROSSI
        Oh, no...

A spatter of mud is thrown up. The engine revs, but the
truck sinks deeper.

Schofield stands, leans out of the canvas.

                  PRIVATE COOKE
        Arsehole needs driving lessons.

A few men groan in agreement.
                                                                68.


     Schofield jumps out into-


28   EXT. ROADSIDE DITCH - CONTINUOUS                                 28

     Schofield looks at the stuck wheel. The truck has driven
     off the road trying to get round another fallen tree. Its
     rear wheel is sinking into a muddy ditch.

     Ahead, the convoy is stopped, waiting on them.

     Schofield speaks to one of the Privates, Cooke, as he
     stares at the wheel.

                       SCHOFIELD
             He should reverse.

                        PRIVATE COOKE
             Yeah.

     Cooke does nothing. Schofield moves to the Driver’s side of
     the truck.

                       SCHOFIELD
                  (Loudly, to the driver)
             Try it in reverse. REVERSE.

     A crunch of gears as the driver puts it in reverse. The
     engine revs again. Schofield bends down to look. The wheel
     is still spinning. The truck is slipping deeper.

                       SCHOFIELD
             No. Stop. STOP!

     After a beat the sound of revving dies out and the engine
     idles.

                       SCHOFIELD
             Everyone needs to get out.

     Some of the men climb to their feet and drop out. Others
     don’t move.

                        SCHOFIELD
             All out!

     The men aren’t moving fast enough.

                        SCHOFIELD
             Come on!

                        PRIVATE BUTLER
                                                           69.


        Alright, alright. Keep your bloody
        hair on.

Begrudgingly a few fall in behind and beside the truck and
ready themselves.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Right. One. Two. Three.

The tyre spins on the spot, mud flies up. Schofield and the
men push. Heaving together-

The truck isn’t moving.

But Schofield won’t stop, he pushes and pushes, groaning
under the effort. Desperation etched all over his face.

                  PRIVATE COOKE
        We need to get some wood, put it
        under the wheels.

The other men drop back away from the truck frame.

Schofield doesn’t.

                  SCHOFIELD
        No! We haven’t got the time!

He puts everything he has into shifting the truck.

                  SCHOFIELD
        We all need to push!

His whole body shakes with the effort.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Come on! COME ON!

He begins to yell. Pushing, screaming in desperation.

                  SCHOFIELD
        COME OOOON!!

The men look at him.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Please. I have to go now! Please.

The men see Schofield’s desperation. Recognise it.

They fall back in beside him.
                                                           70.


                  PRIVATE BUTLER
        Alight, come on lads! Come on.

Together the twenty of them push, all at once, all
stretched to the very limits of their strength.

                  PRIVATE ROSSI
        Come on, boys!

                  SCHOFIELD
        One. Two. Three!

Schofield screams in desperation.

                  SCHOFIELD
        AAAAAAAHHHHH!

                  PRIVATE ROSSI
        Come on boys! One last push! Yes!
        One. Two. Three!

Suddenly, the truck moves, the wheel catches some grass and
WHOMPH-

It lurches forwards, out of the ditch. Schofield falls
forward into the mud.

He struggles to his knees, trying to get his emotions back
under control, struggling not to cry.

Jondalar lifts him to his feet.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Back in. Get back in. Go.

The other men are looking at him, they see his emotion.
They start to load back in.

Jondalar puts his hand on Schofield’s arm. A fleeting
moment of solace.

                  SEPOY JONDALAR
        Are you alright?

Schofield nods.

TWO SOLDIERS stand on the rear step, helping to pull the
others up and in. As they do-

                  PRIVATE COOKE(O.S.)
                                                              71.


             Here, Driver, how about you try to
             keep it on the bloody road for a
             change!

                       DRIVER (O.S.)
             Oh, piss off.

     The men are almost all loaded in. Schofield brings up the
     rear.


29   INT. ARMY TRUCK - CONTINUOUS                                   29

     Schofield takes the arm of the soldier helping men up and
     is pulled inside.

     The convoy moves off. Rattling over the land.

     Around Schofield the men are quiet, their eyes on him.

     After a while-

                       SEPOY JONDALAR
             So, where are you going?

                       SCHOFIELD
             I have to get to the 2nd Devons.
             Just past Ecoust.

                         SEPOY JONDALAR
             Why?

                       SCHOFIELD
             They’re attacking at dawn. I have
             orders to stop them.

                         PRIVATE MALKY
             How come?

                       SCHOFIELD
             They’re walking into a trap.

                         PRIVATE COOKE
             How many?

                       SCHOFIELD
             Sixteen hundred.

     This stops them all.

                         PRIVATE COOKE
             Jesus.
                                                         72.


                  PRIVATE BUTLER
        Why did they send you on your own?

                  SCHOFIELD
        They didn’t. There were two of us.

A beat. The men understand what this means.

                  PRIVATE ROSSI
        So now it’s down to you.

                    SCHOFIELD
        Yes.

                  PRIVATE COOKE
        You’ll never make it.

Beat. Schofield turns to Cooke. Looks at him.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Yes. I will.

Butler offers Schofield some of his whisky. He takes a
drink.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Thank you.

Now all the men are looking out the back, watching the
distance drop away.

The truck is sweeping past a small hamlet, or at least the
remains of one, houses have been reduced to skeletons, the
destruction is fresh, embers still smoulder. Anything of
value built on this land has been systematically destroyed.

Dead cattle lie in the fields.

                  PRIVATE ROSSI
        Look at it. Fucking look at it...
        Three years fighting over this. We
        should have just let the bastards
        keep it. I mean, who machine guns
        cows?

                  PRIVATE MALKY
        Huns with extra bullets.

                    PRIVATE ROSSI
        Bastards.

While they talk, Schofield checks that the letter is still
in his pocket.
                                                        73.


He carefully puts it in his tobacco tin.

                  SEPOY JONDALAR
        Clever. They know if they don’t
        shoot the cow, you will eat it.

Rossi nods: fair point.

                  PRIVATE ROSSI
        Still bastards.

                  PRIVATE MALKY
        Yeah, it’s not even our bloody
        country.

Brakes creak as the truck slows a little. Schofield reacts.

                  PRIVATE BUTLER
        How long gone d’you reckon they
        are?

                  SEPOY JONDALAR
        Why? Worried we’ll catch up with
        them?

                  PRIVATE BUTLER
        Yeah, right. Be a bloody miracle at
        this rate.

                  PRIVATE COOKE
        They are probably right around the
        next corner.

                  PRIVATE ROSSI
        Piss off, no they’re not.

                  PRIVATE COOKE
        Why don’t they just bloody well
        give up? Eh? Don’t they want to go
        home?

                  PRIVATE ROSSI
        They hate their wives and
        mothers... and Germany must be a
        shit hole.

                  PRIVATE COOKE
        They’re retreating... they’re miles
        back. We’ve got them on the ropes
        at least.

                  SEPOY JONDALAR
        No. We don’t.
                                                               74.


     The truck slows down. It is juddering, as if navigating
     cobbles.

     Schofield’s eyes dart to the back, worried.

     Suddenly the truck grinds to a halt. A few ready themselves
     to jump out.

                       PRIVATE BUTLER
             Oh, bollocks. What’s up now?

                       PRIVATE COOKE
             Not another bloody tree.

     The driver calls through the canvas.

                       DRIVER (O.S.)
             Bridge is down.

                       PRIVATE COOKE
                  (sarcastic - sotto)
             Oh. That’s a shame.

     Schofield looks out the back of the truck.

                       SCHOFIELD
             Looks like I’ll be getting out
             here. Good luck.

                       PRIVATE ROSSI
             Keep some of that luck for yourself
             pal. Think you’ll be needing it.

                       PRIVATE BUTLER
             Good luck, mate.

                       PRIVATE MALKY
             Good luck.

     Drops out onto-


30   EXT. CANAL SIDE - CONTINUOUS                                    30

     Schofield jumps down into a new landscape.

     The land is sliced through by a huge, straight, industrial
     canal. The sun is now below the horizon.

     The men from the truck watch him go.

                       PRIVATE COOKE
                                                           75.


        Don’t balls it up.

                  SEPOY JONDALAR
        I hope you get there.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Thank you.

Captain Smith approaches.

                  CAPTAIN SMITH
        Next bridge is six miles. We’ll
        have to divert.

                  SCHOFIELD
        I can’t, Sir. I don’t have the
        time.

                  CAPTAIN SMITH
        Of course.

Smith offers Schofield his hand. He takes it.

                  CAPTAIN SMITH
        Best of luck.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Thank you, Sir.

Smith goes to leave, stops.

                  CAPTAIN SMITH
        Corporal. If you do manage to get
        to Colonel Mackenzie, make sure
        there are witnesses.

Beat.

                  SCHOFIELD
        They are direct orders, Sir.

                  CAPTAIN SMITH
        I know. But some men just want the
        fight.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Thank you, Sir.

Captain Smith calls out to the driver at the head of the
convoy.

                  CAPTAIN SMITH
                                                           76.


         Driver! Move off!

Schofield watches as the small convoy drives away. Fumes
swirl in its wake.

He turns his attention to the new obstacle - the remains of
a bridge, shattered and half blown - now little more than
twisted metal dropping into the water.

The town of Ecoust is a jagged silhouette, visible about
two hundred yards the other side of the canal. Smoke
drifts. The town is still on fire.

The canal is large and industrial - about 90 feet wide,
stone sides, once deep, wood and detritus float on the
surface of the water.

On the opposite bank are the remains of a lock house. Two
storeys. Windows blown in, roof half collapsed. Beyond
that, the remains of some small buildings, all abandoned,
and then the jagged remains of Ecoust.

Schofield surveys it. Looks around. All seems quiet. Eerie.

Schofield looks around for a way across. The blown bridge
is his best bet. Both sides of the metal bridge have
collapsed, and slant down into the dark water.

Schofield starts along the broken bridge, then climbs up
onto the slim metal balustrade and starts inching downwards
towards the waterline. It takes all his effort not to lose
his balance and fall into the water below.

Finally he reaches the base of the slope, and looks across
at the remaining half of the bridge. About eight feet of
water between him and the other side...

He prepares himself to jump across and-

CRACK-

A gunshot slaps the water just in front of him. Birds fly
up.

Instinctively, he leaps-

He lands heavily on the other side of the bridge. His foot
slips into the water, and he hauls himself up with his
hands.

He clings to the metal latticework, scrambling forward.

CRACK- another shot rings out, hitting the water behind.
                                                                77.


     CRACK- a bullet hits the metal near his hand. He quickly
     climbs across the torn carcass of the bridge towards the
     far bank.

     Another bullet rings out, as he drops down, throwing
     himself into-


31   EXT. CANAL - CONTINUOUS                                          31

     The cover of the far bank wall. He rips in breaths as he
     presses his body into the stone bank. He stays low, inching
     along the side until he can get a sense of where the shots
     are coming from.

     He looks. Now he can register the direction of the shots. A
     SHOOTER, in the lock house. On the upper floor. A single
     high window.

     Schofield slides along the bank until he hits a small
     stairwell set into the wall of the canal bank. Barely
     enough cover, but his only option.

     CRACK. Another bullet sings against the stone as he darts
     to the other side of the stairs.

     Schofield readies his rifle, his hands are ice, and
     injured, and slow to work. They shake violently as he tries
     to check and load the weapon.

     Panting, he tries to still his trembling body as he creeps
     up to the top of the stairs, he peers over the top step to
     line up his shot.

     CRACK- a bullet sings off the stone next to his head.

     He sucks in a deep breath and holds it. He exhales as he
     leans into the shadow of the wall, and readies his rifle...

     Schofield lifts his body above the wall, and fires once.

     CRACK.

     Quickly, the shooter fires back.

     Schofield aims again, CRACK.

     The shooting stops.

     Silence.
                                                               78.


     Schofield is still for a moment. Breathing heavy. Shaking
     from the cold and from adrenalin.

     He spins and fires another two shots through the window of
     the lock house.

     CRACK. CRACK. Wood splinters. He waits.

     Again, silence.

     He steadies himself and stands carefully, rifle ready, and
     quickly advances to the lock house. He pushes open the
     doors and moves inside.


32   INT. LOCK HOUSE - CONTINUOUS                                    32

     No movement on the ground floor.

     The staircase is ahead of him. His ears burn listening for
     any sounds, any hint of movement.

     He holds his breath, the wood creaks under him as he backs
     against the wall, rifle pointing to the top of the
     staircase.

     Staying low and against the wall he moves upwards. Parts of
     the upstairs come into view -

     He can now see the door to the upper room.

     Slowly, he moves along the short corridor. With his foot,
     Schofield pushes at the door. It swings open, agonisingly
     slowly, creaking on its hinges.

     Revealing-

     A GERMAN SOLDIER, slumped against the far wall, wounded -
     but with his gun raised.

     A split second to react, Schofield raises his rifle and

     BOOM-BOOM!

     Both guns go off at the same time.

     The German’s bullet hits Schofield on the helmet, ripping
     his neck and upper body backwards, almost lifting him off
     his feet.

     Schofield stumbles backwards and falls-
                                                                79.


     Down the stairs.

     BAM - he hits the stone at the foot of the stairs and...

     Black.


33   INT. LOCK HOUSE - NIGHT                                          33

     Still black.

     In the darkness the sound of a single drip.

     Out of the darkness, Schofield’s face.

     The drip comes from a hole in the ceiling, and falls on
     Schofield’s forehead. He opens his eyes.

     Schofield starts to move, gingerly. He lifts his hand with
     difficulty, runs it along the back of his head. Looks at it
     - slick with black blood.

     He sits up, begins to focus. His face and hair are wet. His
     legs are sprawled on the stairs above him. He looks around
     dumbly. Unsure of what is up and what is down.

     He looks at his watch - smashed in the fall. No idea what
     time it is.

     Panic begins to claw at him. He has somewhere to be. If
     only he could remember it.

     He looks around for his rifle. He spots it above him, at
     the top of the stairs. He crawls towards it.

     Reaches it.

     Suddenly, the room fills with light. Outside, a flare
     streaks across the sky. As the light swings across the
     room, Schofield now sees the German soldier lying dead,
     slumped against the wall.

     Schofield stands and gradually descends the staircase.


34   EXT. ECOUST - CANAL SIDE - CONTINUOUS                            34

     Darkness.

     Then, another flare hisses across the black sky, light
     bursts from it.
                                                           80.


It falls slowly to earth, the magnesium light blinding.

As the light falls the whole world undulates before him.
Not clear to him if he is awake or dreaming.

The falling flare is playing with reality; shapes and
shadows warp across the land.

There has been a rainstorm. The outlines of destroyed
buildings contract and expands ahead of him.

He begins to stagger forwards through Ecoust. Struggling to
pick his way through shifting spots of darkness, unable to
tell what is shadow and what is a ditch. The puddles
reflect the Verey light, glowing as it falls, stinging his
eyes.

CRACK - A gunshot. Somewhere in the darkness there is
another sniper.

A brief moment of confusion, as he looks around for the
source of the gunshot.

CRACK. Another gunshot. Distant shouts. Schofield begins to
run.

He runs at full pelt. As he does, the flare light dies. Now
he is careening through shapeless darkness.

We are running blind, with Schofield. The sound of his
footfalls, his breathing.

He crashes through a puddle, the noise draws shots. The
bullets buzz around him in the darkness. Then -

HISS - another flare bursts above him.

He flings himself down in the rubble.

Shots clip the ground around him. Schofield lies
motionless, breathing heavily, trying to disappear into the
rubble around him, waiting for the light to die.

He looks up, trying to memorize his next path as the light
moves the ground ahead of him. The light dies.

Schofield is up and clattering in darkness across cobbles.

Another flare goes up into the night sky, but this time
Schofield doesn’t stop. He keeps running.
                                                                81.


     It sweeps directly over him, he darts into the bombed out
     remains of a shop. As the light from the flare dies above
     him, he turns the corner into -


35   EXT. ALLEY WAY - ECOUST - CONTINUOUS                             35

     Narrow, dark.

     He starts to move along the alley. Feeling safe in the
     blackness, heading towards the flickering light at the end
     of the alley -


36   EXT. MAIN STREET - ECOUST - CONTINUOUS                           36

     Schofield looks both ways. A broad main market street
     stretches away in both directions.

     All windows are smashed, buildings have been shelled and
     collapsed in on themselves. Some have vanished altogether.

     Schofield cautiously peers out along the wide street. To
     his left, at the far end of the street, is a Main Square,
     framed by a colonnade.

     Beyond, just out of sight, something large is burning.

     Schofield checks both ways, then begins to walk down the
     ruins of the empty street, towards the square. Wary.

     Large medieval colonnades flank the entrance to the square,
     some have crumbled. Schofield slips through them and into -


37   EXT. ECOUST MAIN SQUARE - CONTINUOUS                             37

     Schofield stops under the columns. The destruction here is
     staggering -

     Colonnades run around most of the square, massive sections
     of it are pitted with gaps. Whole buildings are gone, like
     missing teeth - blackness yawns in them. Entire storeys
     have fallen away, revealing empty rooms.

     At the centre of the square, the remains of a fountain.

     In the far corner of the square the Church is on fire. The
     firelight reflects off the wet cobblestones and puddles.

     Schofield stares at it. Awed.
                                                                82.


     Then he spots something-

     In front of the bright flames: A MAN’S SILHOUETTE.

     Schofield sees him. The Man stops, lowers his weapon.
     Starts to walk towards him.

     Schofield cannot make out if he is a German or British
     soldier and begins to move towards him.

     Suddenly the Man lifts his gun and starts to run, heading
     straight towards Schofield. It’s A GERMAN SOLDIER.

     Schofield responds quickly. He takes off running, heading
     through the colonnade. The Soldier raises hie rifles and
     fires after him.

     Schofield doesn’t stop, heading out of the square and into
     -


38   EXT. SIDE STREET - ECOUST - CONTINUOUS                           38

     He can hear the shouts of the Soldier coming after him.

     Schofield runs full tilt. He turns a corner. Ahead, to his
     left, at about knee height, is a low cellar window.

     He heads towards it, grabs at it. It’s locked.

     He can hear the footsteps of the soldier getting closer.

     Beside the window is a coal chute. In a flash, Schofield is
     on his hands and knees through the dark opening, scrambling
     into -


39   INT. COAL CELLAR - CONTINUOUS                                    39

     Pitch black while his eyes adjust.

     He clutches his rifle, steps back into the shadows. His
     breath saws in and out, he listens to the slap of running
     footsteps getting closer.

     Schofield slides down into the darkness as a pair of German
     boots run by the low window.

     He stays crouched in the darkness for a time, listening to
     the footsteps receding. His eyes finally leave the window
     and look around him.
                                                        83.


He is in a low-ceilinged coal cellar. Sections of the roof
above have collapsed, letting in drips of rain and some
faint light. The room is empty. Then something catches his
eye.

At the far end of the room, a small doorway. Heavy fabric
has been hung across it. His eyes catch the flicker of
flame escaping through material.

Schofield readies his rifle. He points it at the curtain,
ready to fire, gun cocked-

Carefully he advances into the small room. Pushes the
fabric aside with his rifle.

In the centre of the room a furnace, presumably used to
heat the house. A small makeshift fire has been lit in it.
Around the fire a couple of blankets, some firewood, empty
cans, crusts of stale bread.

As Schofield’s eyes adjust to the light, he sees movement
in the shadows. Instinctively, he lifts his rifle.

There is a woman crouched in the corner. LAURI, late teens,
frail and hollow-eyed.

Her eyes fill with fear when she sees Schofield enter her
hiding place. She doesn’t move to flee - there is nowhere
to go.

                  LAURI
             (subtitles; pleading)
        Il ny rien ici. Nous n'avons rien
        pour vous. S'il vous plaît.

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
        There is nothing here. We have
        nothing for you. Please.

Schofield sets his rifle down, holds his hands up, as if to
say: I am not a threat.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Anglais. Not German. Friend... I’m
        a friend.

She calms a little. He looks around.

                  SCHOFIELD
        This place, this town. Ecoust?
        C'est Ecoust?
                                                        84.


Lauri nods.

                    LAURI
               (subtitles)
        Oui.

Schofield looks relieved.

He suddenly begins to feel the pain in his head. He sways a
little.

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
        Ou sont les autres?

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
        Where are the others?

She looks at him.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Others? No. Just me.

She looks. He gestures.

                    SCHOFIELD
        Only. Me.

She understands. A beat.

                  SCHOFIELD
        I need to be somewhere... I need to
        find a wood to the South East?

Lauri looks at him blankly.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Trees... les arbres?

Schofield searches his woozy head.

                    SCHOFIELD
        Croiset?

                  LAURI
        Croisilles?

Schofield nods.

                    SCHOFIELD
        Yes.
                                                         85.


Lauri points out the direction.

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
        La rivière-

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
        The river-

                  SCHOFIELD
        River?

                  LAURI
        River. It go there. Trees.
        Croisilles.

A little wave of relief. He tenderly touches his bleeding
head with his hand, winces with the pain, reels with
nausea.

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
        Assiez-toi.

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
        Sit down.

She motions for Schofield to sit, pointing at a chair near
the fire. He sways, but doesn’t move.

                  LAURI
        Asseyez vous. Monsieur.

                  LAURI
        Sit down. Sir.

He understands enough to obey her. Swaying slightly he
drops into the chair.

Still holding his hand to his head, he closes his eyes and
feels the warmth of the fire on his face. It makes him
almost delirious.

Lauri watches him. She slowly moves over to Schofield and
places her hand on his. He jumps at her touch. Tenderness
foreign to him.

                  LAURI
        Shhh. Shhh.

Her kindness translates.
                                                          86.


She inspects the wound. She carefully parts his damp hair,
finds the jagged wound. He flinches.

She is very close to him, he can feel her breath on his
neck.

She reaches down, takes out a handkerchief, holds it
against the wound.

He closes his eyes, relaxes against her touch.

Lauri looks at Schofield, his eyes closed, his uniform
caked in blood and mud.

At last he turns back to face her. They lock eyes. A beat.

                  SCHOFIELD
             (quietly)
        Thank you.

Then, from behind her comes a sound. Something soft, small.
A BABY stirring. Schofield starts.

Lauri moves to the corner of the room. An old mattress lies
on the floor. Next to it, a drawer from an old chest has
been lined with cloth. She reaches in, lifts the child,
cradles it protectively.

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
        Ma petite.

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
        My little one.

Schofield stares at the baby as it settles in her arms. It
can’t be more than five months old.

                     SCHOFIELD
        A girl?

She nods her head.

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
        Qui. Une fille.

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
        Yes. A girl.

Schofield smiles. A long beat.
                                                        87.


The baby is waking, she begins to cry. Lauri soothes her.

Schofield kneels down bedside them.

The baby is soothed, she settles.

                  SCHOFIELD
        What is her name?

Lauri looks to Schofield, desolate. Shakes her head.

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
        J’ne sais pas.

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
        I don’t know.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Who is her mother?

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
        J’ne sais pas.

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
        I don’t know.

The sadness nearly drowns them both. A long beat.

Schofield opens his pack and rummages -

                  SCHOFIELD
        I have food. Here. I have these.
        You can have them - here, take them
        all, for you and the child. Here.

He empties his rations onto the mattress, a bounty in this
barren place. Lauri looks at them, aching with
hopelessness.

Schofield doesn’t understand.

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
        Elle ne peut pas manger ça. Elle a
        besoin de lait...

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
                                                        88.


        She can not eat that. She needs
        milk...

She searches for the word in English-

Schofield blinks at her, in disbelief.

                   SCHOFIELD
        Milk.

Lauri nods.

Schofield’s cold fingers pry the canteen from his belt. He
opens it and hands it to her. She looks at him in wonder.
She smells the canteen. Milk.

Lauri looks up at him, amazement and gratitude etched onto
her tired features.

                   LAURI
        Merci.

The baby is fussing.

Schofield moves closer, gently talking to the child.

                   SCHOFIELD
        Bonjour.

The baby’s bright eyes latch on to his.

                   SCHOFIELD
        Bonjour.

The baby looks at him. Begins to settle.

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
        Avez-vous des enfants? Children -
        you?

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
        Do you have children? Children -
        you?

He doesn’t answer. He watches the baby.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Shhhh... It’s alright...

                   LAURI
                                                           89.


             (subtitles)
        Elle vous aime. Continuez...
        continuez a parler.

                  LAURI
             (subtitles)
        She likes you. Continue ... keep
        talking.

Schofield looks at the child, searching for something to
say.

He says the first thing that comes into his head.

He speaks softly, like he’s done it before...

                  SCHOFIELD
        “They went to sea in a Sieve, they
        did,

                  SCHOFIELD
        In a Sieve they went to sea: In
        spite of all their friends could
        say, On a winter’s morn, on a
        stormy day, In a Sieve they went to
        sea.”

The baby’s eyes don’t leave Schofield.

                  SCHOFIELD
        “Far and few, far and few, Are the
        lands where the Jumblies live;
        Their heads are green, and their
        hands are blue, And they went to
        sea in a Sieve.”

A beat. The baby has settled, hypnotised by the sound.

They are still for a moment in the firelight.

Suddenly, the distant church bell tolls. The noise rolls
through the quiet cellar. Schofield starts at the sound.

He counts the clock strikes in his head as they happen.

TWO... THREE...

He keeps looking down at the baby, but his eyes are filling
with fear.

FOUR...FIVE... His heart is sinking.

SIX. He holds his breath.
                                                                90.


     Silence.

     He stands. Goes for his pack. Lauri watches him, confused.

                          LAURI
                     (subtitles)
                Le jour. Les soldats vont vous
                voir... They see you. Il fera jour.
                Vous devriez attendre. Stay. Stay.
                Please.

                          LAURI
                     (subtitles)
                The morning. The soldiers will see
                you. They see you. It will be
                light. You should wait. Stay. Stay.
                Please.

                          SCHOFIELD
                I have to go.

     Schofield takes his rifle and moves to the doorway.

                          SCHOFIELD
                I’m sorry.

     He leaves.


40   INT. HOUSE - ECOUST - CONTINUOUS                                 40

     He pushes through the doorway. Damaged wooden stairs lead
     up.

     Schofield slips over the rubble, over the remains of the
     house.

     He peers along the empty street.


41   EXT. SIDE STREET - ECOUST - CONTINUOUS                           41

     Schofield stays in the shadows, and begins to work his way
     along the street in the direction Lauri pointed him.

     The town is silent. He looks up at the sky to see if the
     sun is rising. No light.

     He reaches a crossroads - small alleyways branch off. He
     looks around. Lost. He turns to his right - a wide
     alleyway.

     He moves along it, quickly, quietly.
                                                                91.


     BANG - ahead of him a door flies open, warm light spills
     out onto the street, followed by a German soldier. PRIVATE
     MULLER, 30s, blind drunk.

     Muller stumbles a few steps and then vomits. Moaning and
     muttering to himself.

     Schofield ducks into the darkness of a doorway.

     Muller moans and pukes again. Schofield backs inside the
     doorway and into-


42   INT. SCHOOL HOUSE - ECOUST - CONTINUOUS                          42

     A small school assembly hall and a couple of other rooms
     have been blown together into one large space. Metal beams
     where there once was a roof. A few school desks, tipped
     onto their sides.

     To one side of the room, wide arched windows let in shafts
     of light from the burning church outside. They streak
     across the inky darkness.

     At the far end of the room is the door Private Muller just
     exited. A small fire burns on the floor by it. Smoke hangs
     in the room. A couple of empty bottles lie around.

     Schofield stays in the shadows. Silently scanning the
     darkness, listening to the pathetic moans of Muller
     outside.

     He looks around, searching for another way out, a way past
     Muller.

     Out of the shadows steps a man - ANOTHER GERMAN SOLDIER -
     BAUMER, late teens. He is doing up his flies.

     They lock eyes, three feet apart.

     A beat - shock on both their faces, then horror. Neither of
     them want this.

     Baumer opens his mouth to scream.

     Schofield closes the three feet and is on him - pushing
     Baumer hard against a pillar.

     Schofield holds Baumer there, his hand clamped over the
     young soldiers mouth. They lock eyes. Schofield holds his
     finger to his lips: Stay quiet.

     Baumer nods.
                                                           92.


Schofield slowly drops his hand from Baumer’s mouth. Wary.

Baumer sucks in a breath and shouts out:

Schofield reacts quickly, ramming his palm into Baumer’s
mouth, gagging him as they both fall onto the hard ground -
the sound echoes loudly though the school house.

Baumer bites down on Schofield’s hand, still bound with its
bandage.

Schofield gasps out, gritting his teeth against the pain.
He forces his hand further into Baumer’s mouth, his other
hand goes to the boys throat - squeezing with all his
strength.

Baumer has a knife. Schofield wrestles it out of his hand.

Baumer thrashes and kicks under Schofield, rolling the two
of them to the side.

They are two feral creatures - both know this is to the
death.

A shadow at the far end of the room. Muller is coming
back...

                  PRIVATE MULLER
        Mein Gott Baumer... Das war ein
        Fehler. Wir sollten heute Abend
        zurück gehen. Vielleicht hat
        niemand gemerkt, dass wir weg
        waren.

                  PRIVATE MULLER
        Christ Baumer... This was a
        mistake. We should go back tonight,
        maybe no one will notice we’ve
        gone.

Muller staggers his way over to a spot by the fire, slumps
down. Rummages among the empty bottles.

Baumer tears a breath in through his nostrils, tries to
scream -

Schofield squeezes harder on the boy’s neck, pushing the
boy’s head down into the ground. Crushing him into the
broken glass and debris.

                  PRIVATE MULLER
                                                           93.


        Wo ist der Brandy? Du kleiner
        Scheisser.. wehe du bist damit
        fortgelaufen.

                  PRIVATE MULLER
        Where’s the brandy? You little
        shit, you better not have run off
        with it.

Desperately, Baumer beats his hands against Schofield’s
chest. Muller hears the noise.

Muller turns and peers towards them. He can’t see them in
the shadows.

                  PRIVATE MULLER
        Baumer. Wo ist..? Baumer?

                  PRIVATE MULLER
        Baumer. Where is..? Baumer?

But Schofield can see him, and his focus briefly shifts.

In that moment, Baumer fights back - Kicking, clawing,
punching. But he is weaker now. Schofield redoubles his
efforts. His hands and arms ache. Acid stings in his
muscles.

Schofield is desperate. His eyes flick between Muller and
Baumer.

Baumer’s feet scratch and scrape frantically on the stone.

                  PRIVATE MULLER
        Baumer?

                  PRIVATE MULLER
        Baumer?

Muller stands, teeters towards them.

Then - Baumer’s arms fall limp.

Schofield snaps up, leaving his rifle behind him, and leaps
out of the shadows.

He barges straight past Muller, heading for the door at the
far end of the room. Muller staggers back -

                  MULLER (O.S.)
        BAUMER!
                                                                94.


43   EXT. SIDE STREET - ECOUST - CONTINUOUS                           43

     Schofield is out of the door, running, hands free, breath
     sawing in his ears. The sound of Muller behind him-

                        PRIVATE MULLER (O.S.)
              ENGLANDER! ENGLANDER!

     Muller’s howl chases Schofield along the street. The sound
     of the door swinging open echoes after him.

     Schofield doesn’t stop. Behind him is the sound of Muller
     giving chase then-

     CRACK-

     A bullet sings off the wall opposite.


44   EXT. SMALL STREET - ECOUST - CONTINUOUS                          44

     Schofield sprints, looking over his shoulder.

     He turns... and fifty yards in front him -

     Another German Soldier. The same man who chased him across
     the square. The soldier breaks into a run, reaches for his
     rifle.

     The soldier shoots, but Schofield breaks left across the
     street and into -


45   EXT. TINY STREET - ECOUST - CONTINUOUS                           45

     A narrow alley.

     Schofield darts down it, looking for some escape.

     Muller and the other German race into the alley behind him.

     Shots burst on the wall next to Schofield.

     To his left is another corner, Schofield sprints for it.
     Flat out into -


46   EXT. CURVED STAIRS STREET - ECOUST - CONTINUOUS                  46

     Ahead of Schofield is a flight of stone steps.

     He leaps down. Taking them three or four at a time.
                                                                95.


     He slams against the wall, leaps down another flight.

     His breath burns in his lungs. At the bottom of the stairs,
     is a long straight street, about 100 yards. Leading to a
     Bridge.

     Schofield runs towards it.


47   EXT. BRIDGE STREET - ECOUST - CONTINUOUS                         47

     His heartbeat thunders as he sprints flat out.

     The street slopes downhill. Yards fall under him. We can
     now see the burning Town receding behind him.

     The sound of the Two Germans battering down the stairs
     echoes after him.

     They hit the flat street. 30 yards behind him.

     They open fire.

     Bullets crack off the cobbles just in front of him.

     He is 50 yards from the bridge, running full tilt.

     Shots ring out.

     Schofield reaches the bridge. Bullets ring off the rubble.

     He keeps sprinting.

     And suddenly, with no warning, Schofield veers across the
     street, puts one hand on the stone wall of the bridge...

     ...and vaults clean over it -


48   EXT. RIVER - ECOUST - CONTINUOUS                                 48

     Schofield drops forty feet and smashes into the water.

     We are under the dark water.

     Schofield resurfaces, gasping for air. Numb, panicking, he
     thrashes and kicks, fighting the weight, the cold, the
     fear.

     He struggles to slip off his webbing. It tangles up in his
     arms, pulling him down.
                                                          96.


Finally he gets it off, it is swallowed up in the white
water which churns all around him.

Losing the weight of the webbing, he manages to stay above
the water.

The bridge and the German soldiers are long gone. The water
is fast flowing after the rain, rapids sweep him along.

A felled tree lies across the river. Schofield grabs hold
of its branches, tries to pull himself up. But the torrent
is too strong to fight. It rips his hands away, and pulls
him under again.

He surfaces. Coughs and splutters on the water line.

The rapids continue to pull him through the water at speed.

Schofield goes with it. Letting the water carry him.

He scans the river banks ahead. They tower up steeply. He
looks for a way out. Around him, rocks jut out from the
water dangerously. They churn the river into a whirlpool,
spinning him around.

He is now traveling backwards downstream.

Behind him, a large rock rises up out of the water. He is
approaching it fast. He doesn’t see it.

The water drives him hard into the rock. His back and head
are slammed against it.

Schofield is winded, disorientated, barely staying afloat.

Ahead there is a sound.

A deep rumbling.

He fights to keep his ears above the water, to hear it.

The rapids are getting faster, more turbulent.

Schofield realizes what the sound is - the roar of water.

Panic flashes on his face. He thrashes, tries to swim to a
bank.

But it’s too late.

A waterfall lies ahead.
                                                           97.


He braces himself, and then the waterfall is on him in a
flash.

Schofield goes over it.

He is pulled down into the plunge pool.

We lose sight of him. And then, nothing. He is gone.

For a few moments, just the roar of the falls.

Then, suddenly Schofield resurfaces, gasping for air.

The churning water pushes him free of the falls. He manages
to turn onto his back.

The river has got wider, deeper. He grabs hold of a branch.

The current carries him. The world around him has turned
blue in the pre-dawn light.

The river sweeps him forward. He is still gasping for
breath.

Now the tumbling river gradually begins to smooth out into
a cool apron of water.

Schofield is almost unconscious. He is slipping down, his
mouth just above the waterline.

His eyes flutter and open, he spits out water.

Grey mistrals roll through a pale world. Unearthly. They
hover above the river ahead.

The river slowly pulls him. Occasional trees line the bank.

This place is untouched by war. Spared. Clean and cool and
filled with some life.

Schofield is fighting it, but ready to accept that this is
the end. He knows too well there are worse places, worse
ways...

Inch by inch he starts to slip down.

His ears fall under the waterline. The sound is sucked from
the world. His eyes stare upwards. Lips just above the
water.

Schofield seems so peaceful, just floating on the water.
The sound of the falls recedes.
                                                               98.


     We are aware of birds, the wind in the leaves.

     Then the water around him turns flat. The current begins to
     slow.

     White. Petals float on it, a patchwork blanket.

     Cherry Blossom.

     Schofield is swept through the white petals.

     Schofield raises an arm from the water and sees the petals
     clinging to him.

     Blake.

     A long beat.

     Life seeps back into him, breaks through the icy numbness.

     Schofield’s limbs struggle to work in the cold.

     He fights, willing movement.

     He swims towards the bank.

     Ahead there are the sounds of a dam: a gentle fountain of
     water.

     The sun is rising somewhere - the pre-dawn light is
     beginning to illuminate the world around him.

     He has reached the dam - a fallen tree. He begins to haul
     himself out. He looks down.

     BODIES.

     Twelve bodies, give or take.

     SOLDIERS - British, German. And CIVILIANS. Men and women.

     They have caught and gathered, blocked by the tree from
     floating downstream. They have formed a kind of dam.

     He takes the only option. He pulls himself up, and climbs
     across the bodies. His way out.

     He makes it to the river bank, and stumbles up onto the
     slope.


49   EXT. RIVER BANK - CONTINUOUS                                    49
                                                                99.


     He drags himself across the grass, and collapses to his
     knees.

     He cries.

     Big racking sobs - for the river, for life, for Blake, for
     the baby.

     The morning is forming.

     Far off in the distance, something foreign, or long
     forgotten.

     Music. Singing.

     Schofield listens. Then slowly gets up, walks, shaking,
     towards the sound. He stumbles but doesn’t fall. His frozen
     limbs are forced, dragged, back to life.

     Schofield moves up the steep rise. He stops and looks at
     the woods that now lie ahead of him.


50   EXT. PINE WOOD - CONTINUOUS                                      50

     Shafts of morning light stream through the pine trees.

     Schofield walks towards the music. Uncertain if it is real.

     The music is in the air, a canopy, almost directionless. He
     can now make out a voice. And words.

                       VOICE (O.S.)
             ...there is no sickness, toil, nor
             danger/In that bright land to which
             I go...

     Schofield picks his way through the thin trees... and
     suddenly the music has a source.

     A YOUNG SOLDIER stands in a small clearing.

     A British COMPANY - about two hundred men - are gathered
     around listening.

     The young soldier’s voice is pure, untrained. He sings the
     old folk song - “I Am A Poor Wayfaring Stranger”.

                       YOUNG SOLDIER (O.S.)
             I’m going there to see my Father,
             And all my loved ones who’ve gone
             on.
                                                       100.


Schofield stops on the edge of the clearing. Unsettled by
the world before him. Unsure if these men are living or
dead.

If he is one of these ghosts.

He leans against a tree and slumps down on the outskirts of
the group. The music washes over him.

Dawn is breaking.

He closes his eyes. Done.

                  YOUNG SOLDIER
        I’m only going over Jordan I’m only
        going over home.

The song finishes. A smattering of applause.

                  CAPTAIN (O.S.)
        D Company! MOVE OUT!

The men stand up and begin to move. Then a voice.

                  PRIVATE SEYMOUR
        You alright pal?

Schofield opens his eyes. A pair of legs before him.

                  PRIVATE SEYMOUR
        Where are you from?

Another pair of legs.

                  PRIVATE GREY
        He’s probably got the wind up.

                  PRIVATE SEYMOUR
        Well he’s not one of ours.

                  PRIVATE BULLEN
        He’s bloody soaked.

                  PRIVATE GREY
        Fuck it, let’s just pick him up and
        take him with us.

                  SCHOFIELD
             (very faintly)
        Have to find the Devons.

                    PRIVATE GREY
                                                       101.


        What’s he saying?

                  PRIVATE SEYMOUR
        What’s that mate?

                  SCHOFIELD
        The Devons. I have to find the
        Devons.

A pause while the soldiers share a look.

                  PRIVATE SEYMOUR
        We’re the Devons.

Schofield looks up at them, disbelief on his face.

                  SCHOFIELD
        You’re the Devons.

                  PRIVATE SEYMOUR
        Yes, Corp.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Why haven’t you gone over?

                  PRIVATE BULLEN
        We’re the second wave.

                  PRIVATE WILLOCK
        They don’t send us all at once.

                  PRIVATE SEYMOUR
        We’re D Company, we spent the night
        digging in. We go last.

Schofield staggers to his feet. His hand goes to his tunic
pocket, to the envelope.

                  PRIVATE SEYMOUR
        Are you all right?

                  SCHOFIELD
        Mackenzie. Where’s Colonel
        Mackenzie?

                  PRIVATE SEYMOUR
        He’s down at the line.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Which way?

                  PRIVATE SEYMOUR
                                                             102.


             This way. We’re headed up there
             now.

     Schofield takes off down the line of men, shoving and
     pushing his way as the queue of them winds out of the
     woods.

     We hear Seymour behind him.

                       PRIVATE SEYMOUR (O.S.)
             Oy! Steady on mate! Where you
             going?

     Schofield reaches the edge of the wood. From the break in
     the trees he can see the land stretching ahead of him.

     The one-day-old British trench, is perhaps forty yards
     away, and beyond it, far in the distance, on the higher
     ground is a black ribbon across the land: The German
     trenches. From here you can just begin to sense the scale
     of it.

     A comms trench leads to the front line. Schofield staggers
     down into it.


51   EXT. 2ND COMMS TRENCH - CONTINUOUS                             51

     Schofield begins to run along the comms trench, stumbling,
     weaving in and out of the advancing line of soldiers.

                       SCHOFIELD
             Move!

     We catch glimpses of the men as Schofield passes -

                       SCHOFIELD
             Let me by - Move! Let me through!

     He grabs the first Corporal he sees by the shoulder.

                       SCHOFIELD
             Where’s your commanding officer?

                       LANCE CORPORAL DUFF
             He’s in the holding pen.

     Schofield sprints in that direction - shoving and barging
     now.

     As he approaches the Holding Area, we can see THRONGS of
     SOLDIERS - The 2nd A and B Companies.
                                                            103.


52   EXT. HOLDING PEN - CONTINUOUS                                 52

     The holding area is packed with men.

                       LIEUTENANT HUTTON(O.S.)
             B Company, stand to! Now listen,
             and listen well!

     Schofield spots the commanding voice, pushes through
     towards the Lieutenant-

                       LIEUTENANT HUTTON
             On the first mark, A Company will
             advance! B Company will then move
             to the front line!

                       SCHOFIELD
             Sir, I have a message from General
             Erinmore!

                       LIEUTENANT HUTTON
             Who the fuck are you?

                       SCHOFIELD
             The attack has been called off.
             General Erinmore has called off the
             attack.

     The Lieutenant stares at Schofield, incredulous.

                       LIEUTENANT HUTTON
             Balls, man. We’re about to go over.
             We’ve got them on the run.

                       SCHOFIELD
                  (frantic)
             You don’t! Please. Don’t send your
             men over.

                       LIEUTENANT HUTTON
             Get out of the way, Corporal -

                       SCHOFIELD
             These are direct orders from Army
             command! Where is the Colonel
             Mackenzie?

     Schofield brandishes his letter. Still wet from the river,
     but legible. He looks like a madman. Hutton grabs him by
     the lapels.

                       LIEUTENANT HUTTON
                  (furious)
                                                            104.


             Jesus Christ, man! Go and see the
             Captain!

     Hutton shoves him away. Schofield staggers on, pushing out
     of the holding area. As he goes, we hear Hutton bellowing
     to his men-

                       LIEUTENANT HUTTON
             Now I want us up there quickly, you
             understand? Do you understand!

     Hutton’s men respond: ‘Yes, Sir!’ etc.

     Schofield rushes through them and into -


53   EXT. 2ND FRONT LINE TRENCH - CONTINUOUS                       53

     The narrow trench is packed with more men.

     This trench is hastily dug. Little more than a temporary
     berm, perhaps five feet high. Hundreds of men crouch just
     inside the trench wall, waiting, preparing.

     He pushes past more men. And still more.

                       SERGEANT WRIGHT
             Sections 9 and 10 at the ready! We
             will advance on the first whistle
             blast!

     Schofield pushes forwards.

                       SERGEANT GARDNER
             You must not slow down! If the man
             next to you falls, keep moving!
             Your orders are to break the lines
             -

                       SCHOFIELD
             Where is the Captain?

     Gardner nods to CAPTAIN IVINS, rocking back and forth, head
     bowed.

                       SERGEANT GARDNER
             He’s over there.

     Schofield gets to Ivins.

                         SCHOFIELD
             Sir? Sir!
                                                          105.


Ivins looks up at Schofield, he’s crying, muttering to
himself, terrified. Tears roll down his face.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Captain, I have a message. This
        attack is called off. You have to
        stop, you have to stop -

Before he can say more, the air vibrates. An impossibly
loud sound -

GERMAN ARTILLERY.

Shells scream overhead and then - a wall of noise.

The air seems to tremble.

SOLDIERS press themselves into the walls of the trench,
take cover wherever they can.

The earth groans as the shells land. Pounding the earth all
around. Not yet zeroed in on the British Line.

                  CAPTAIN IVINS
             (Soundlessly)
        No. No. No.

Schofield grabs Ivins.

                  SCHOFIELD
             (Shouting, soundless)
        Where is Colonel Mackenzie?

Men cover their ears and squeeze their skulls, but the
sound still drowns them. Captain Ivins has his hands over
his ears.

Schofield tries to wrestle his arms away, so he can be
heard.

                  SCHOFIELD
             (Again, soundless)
        Where is Mackenzie?

No response. The noise is too much.

Some men push their heads against the front wall of the
trench, scream into the mud, all voices are lost. Others
cower into the earth.

The noise is unbearable.
                                                          106.


Schofield leaves Ivins, moving faster through the line now
as men crouch and contort themselves low.

Schofield pushes forwards.

Then, twenty yards behind Schofield - a direct hit.

The concussion of the blast ripples along the narrow
trench.

The walls literally bleed earth and chalk.

In an instant IVINS, his men, the entire section of trench
they were in has vanished. They simply disappear -

Schofield is thrown forward, into a huddle of stunned men.

Sound creeps back into the world, raspy screams over the
thunder of explosions. We can hear a voice in the distance.

                  SERGEANT GARDNER(O.S.)
        Bearers! Stretcher bearers!

Schofield drags himself to his feet, keeps moving along the
trench.

German shells whistle through the air all around.

Schofield pushes his way along.

Fountains of mud and iron burst in No Man’s Land, towering
into the sky, showering dirt and shrapnel onto the line.

Schofield doesn’t stop running, pushing through A and B
Companies.

The trench gets thinner, tapering in-

Schofield fights through the men now, running out of space,
running out of time.

The trench narrows until Schofield can’t get through the
men.

The PLATOONS have lost their form here, there are no gaps
between them, everyone is packed together in the chaos.

The German artillery is increasing now. Every moment is
rocked with noise. There is no space, no silence.

Ahead of him, 100 yards down, the trench takes another
direct hit. But Schofield keeps moving towards it.
                                                       107.


MEN flow away from the damage. Pushing their way towards
Schofield. Completely blocking the trench.

Schofield pushes forward until the trench becomes
impassable.

A wall of men, with nowhere to go.

A burly Sergeant is ahead of him, brandishing a pistol,
yelling commands, trying to regain some sort of order, but
his words are lost in the roar of the shells.

                  SERGEANT GUTHRIE
        GET BACK! Return to your sectors.
        GET BACK! BACK! Hold fast!

Schofield pushes past him, and finds the nearest C.O. -
LIEUTENANT RICHARDS. His eyes are on his men, revolver in
hand.

                  LIEUTENANT RICHARDS
        SEVEN PLATOON! ONE MINUTE!

Schofield grabs at him, screams-

                  SCHOFIELD
        Sir, I have orders to stop this
        attack.

Richards wants to believe him.

                   LIEUTENANT RICHARDS
        What?

                  SCHOFIELD
        Where is Colonel Mackenzie?

                  LIEUTENANT RICHARDS
        He’s further up the line.

                   SCHOFIELD
        How far?

                  LIEUTENANT RICHARDS
        Three hundred yards. He’s in a cut
        and cover.

Both of them look around.

                  LIEUTENANT RICHARDS
        You’ll have to wait until the first
        wave goes over.
                                                              108.


                       SCHOFIELD
             No! No, I can’t!

     Schofield turns and looks. More shells hit the trench.
     Chaos.

     The way to Mackenzie is impassable. Panic mingles with
     despair.

     Richards turns back to his men.

                       LIEUTENANT RICHARDS
             7 PLATOON! THIRTY SECONDS!

     Suddenly, Schofield climbs up onto the firing step...

     Richards turns and sees him.

                       LIEUTENANT RICHARDS
             You can’t possibly make it that way
             man, are you bloody insane?

     300 yards. Open ground, utterly without cover. It may as
     well be on the moon.

     Everything slows. Something in Schofield snaps.

                       LIEUTENANT RICHARDS
             What the hell are you doing, Lance
             Corporal?

     Schofield is on the top step...

     He stands.

                       LIEUTENANT RICHARDS
             NO, NO, NO, NO!

     Richards and his men watch on in disbelief, as an unarmed
     Schofield staggers out and into-


54   EXT. NO MAN'S LAND - CONTINUOUS                                 54

     Schofield stumbles forwards. Shocked that he is now out in
     the open.

     Then he starts to run, picking up speed.

     Now Schofield is sprinting full pelt, parallel to the
     trench-
                                                               109.


     His breath burns in and out, sawing in his ears

     Schofield doesn’t stop.

     His legs thump over the earth.

     We hear the screech of the whistle. Three short blasts.

     The roar of hundreds of men follows-

     Schofield keeps sprinting to the western trench as now, SIX
     HUNDRED SOLDIERS pour out of the British front line-

     Running out into No Man’s Land, and crossing in front and
     behind Schofield.

     Hundreds of soldiers, heading towards the German lines as
     he keeps sprinting to the western trench.

     The German guns now erupt again.

     Men fall in their dozens.

     Hundreds more pour over the top.

     Schofield is only half way. He stumbles, falls. But picks
     himself up and keeps on running.

     The whole world shakes on its axis as the shells land.

     The air thunders around him. The ground itself bursts and
     rolls.

     A Company are still pouring out into No Man’s Land.

     Schofield is running, running.

     Through the hail of bullets and shells.

     Still running.

     His lungs burn, his breath grates in his throat as he runs.

     Behind him, men continue to pour over the top.

     Schofield sprints the final few feet and -

     He jumps desperately into -


55   EXT. 2ND COMMAND TRENCH - CONTINUOUS                             55
                                                       110.


He tumbles and lands amongst the waiting men of B Company,
now in the breech.

Schofield careens through them and hits the ground hard.

Men look down at him in horror. He brandishes his message
as a Captain, SANDBACH, closes in on him-

                  SCHOFIELD
             (Breathless)
        Colonel Mackenzie?

The Captain helps Schofield to his feet and pushes him in
the direction of a dugout-

                  CAPTAIN SANDBACH
        He’s in there.
             (he turns to his men)
        B Company two minutes!

There is a lull in the shelling, the earth still rumbles
above them with the sounds of distant machine guns, but the
blasts have stopped.

Schofield runs, half limping, cutting through the men who
are about to be sent over the top, and pushes his way to
the entrance of a dugout.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Let me through!

                  ORDERLY DIXON
        Hey, hey...!

                  SCHOFIELD
        Let me through!

Schofield drops down a few steps, a second orderly, BYRNE
grabs him. Schofield tries to get past.

                  ORDERLY BYRNE
             (overlapping)
        What the hell do you think you’re
        doing?

                  SCHOFIELD
        I have to get through. I have to
        see Colonel Mackenzie!

                  ORDERLY DIXON
        What are you doing?!

                  SCHOFIELD
                                                             111.


             I have to stop this attack-

     He pushes past Dixon and into-


56   INT. MACKENZIE’S DUGOUT ANTE-ROOM - CONTINUOUS                 56

     The two Orderlies have Schofield by the arms now. He has no
     strength left to fight them.

     His voice is lost in melee, as CAPTAIN RYLANDS sweeps past
     him and in-

                       CAPTAIN RYLANDS
             Colonel, we’ve seen flares, the men
             on the left flank have made it to
             the German Line-

                         SCHOFIELD
             Colonel!

                         ORDERLY DIXON
             Hold him!

                         SCHOFIELD
             Colonel!

     The Orderlies haul him out of the dugout.


57   EXT. 2ND COMMAND TRENCH - CONTINUOUS                           57

     Schofield struggles wildly against the orderlies, they have
     him pinned against the trench wall.

                       SCHOFIELD
             Listen to me, listen to me! I have
             a letter! I need to see Colonel
             MacKenzie!

     The Orderlies yell over him.

                       ORDERLY BYRNE
             There’s no bloody way you’re
             getting in there, mate!

     Captain Rylands exits the dugout and bellows down the
     sector to two Sergeants.

                       CAPTAIN RYLANDS
             Sergeant! Send the next wave!
                                                               112.


     The Sergeants yell back in the affirmative from further
     down the line.

                       SCHOFIELD
             NO!

     With the last of his strength, Schofield throws his elbow
     into the stomach of one of the orderlies. He breaks away
     from them and into-


58   INT. MACKENZIE'S DUGOUT - CONTINUOUS                             58

     Schofield careens into the room. A huddle of OFFICERS are
     inside, their backs to him. A commanding voice emanates
     from among them.

                       COLONEL MACKENZIE (O.S.)
             Tell Ivins and Murphy to direct
             their men to the left flank.
             Concentrate everything there.

                       SCHOFIELD
             COLONEL MACKENZIE!

     The officers turn on Schofield, parting as they do. In the
     centre, staring straight at him, is COLONEL MACKENZIE, 40s.

     Mackenzie stands ramrod straight, and is immaculately
     turned out, despite the chaos surrounding him. He has a
     small scar across his left eye.

                       SCHOFIELD
                  (in a rush)
             Sir, this attack is not to go
             ahead! You’ve been ordered to stop.
             You have to stop.

                       COLONEL MACKENZIE
             Who the hell are you?

                       SCHOFIELD
             Lance Corporal Schofield, Sir. 8th.
             I have orders from General Erinmore
             to call off this attack.

     Schofield offers up the letter. The other Officers all
     react.

     But Mackenzie doesn’t take it.

                       COLONEL MACKENZIE
             You’re too late, Lance Corporal.
                                                        113.


                  SCHOFIELD
        Sir, these orders are from Army
        Command. You have to read them.

He holds out the letter to Mackenzie. A damp scrap of
paper.

A Major, HEPBURN, is listening closely.

                  MAJOR HEPBURN
        Shall we hold back the second wave,
        Sir?

                  COLONEL MACKENZIE
        No, Major. Hesitate now and we
        lose. Victory is five hundred yards
        away.

Mackenzie is resolute.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Sir...Sir! Please read the letter.

                  COLONEL MACKENZIE
        I have heard it all before. I’m not
        going to wait until dusk, or for
        fog. I’m not calling back my men,
        only to send them out there again
        tomorrow. Not when we’ve got the
        bastards on the run. This is their
        last stand.

                  SCHOFIELD
        The German’s planned this, Sir.
        They’ve been planning it for
        months. They want you to attack.
        Read the letter.

This catches MacKenzie’s attention. He nods to Major
Hepburn: get the letter.

Hepburn takes the letter from Schofield, hands it to
Colonel MacKenzie.

MacKenzie opens it. Reads.

His face utterly impassive. Inscrutable.

Schofield waits.

                   COLONEL MACKENZIE
        Major.
                                                          114.


                    MAJOR HEPBURN
        Yes, Sir.

A horrible moment of silence. Everything hangs on this.

                  COLONEL MACKENZIE
        Stand them down.

                    MAJOR HEPBURN
        Yes, Sir.

Schofield closes his eyes. Relief floods his body.

The Major runs from the dugout, a blast of whistles from
the outside - a signal to stop.

Mackenzie addresses his other officers.

                  COLONEL MACKENZIE
        Call up the orderlies. Tend the
        wounded. Hold the line in case they
        counter.

                    OFFICERS
        Yes, Sir.

The Officers empty out of the dugout. Noises of orders
being shouted and whistles being blown seep in from
outside.

A long beat. Schofield senses Mackenzie moving closer to
him.

They are now alone.

Mackenzie speaks quietly.

                  COLONEL MACKENZIE
        I hoped today might be a good day.
        Hope is a dangerous thing.

Schofield stands stock still.

                  COLONEL MACKENZIE
        That’s it for now. Then next week,
        Command will send a different
        message. Attack at dawn.

Mackenzie looks him in the eye.

                    COLONEL MACKENZIE
                                                       115.


        There is only one way this war
        ends. Last man standing.

Mackenzie looks him up and down.

                  COLONEL MACKENZIE
        Have someone see to your wounds.

Schofield is frozen.

                  COLONEL MACKENZIE
        Now fuck off, Lance Corporal.

Schofield leaves the main dugout. Major Hepburn stands just
outside the door. He grabs Schofield’s arm as he passes.

Schofield turns.

                  MAJOR HEPBURN
             (heartfelt)
        Well done, lad.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Thank you, Sir.

Beat.

                  SCHOFIELD
        Do you know where Lieutenant Blake
        is, Sir?

                   MAJOR HEPBURN
        Blake?

                  SCHOFIELD
        There were two of us. I was sent
        here with his brother.

He looks at him. The Major understands.

                   MAJOR HEPBURN
        Ah.

Beat.

                  MAJOR HEPBURN
        Well, knowing Lieutenant Blake he
        would have gone over with his men.
        He was in the first wave.

                  SCHOFIELD
        How could I find him, Sir?
                                                            116.


                       MAJOR HEPBURN
             You can try the casualty clearing
             station, behind the line.
             Otherwise...

     Beat.

                       SCHOFIELD
             Thank you, Sir.

                       CORPORAL CAIRNS (O.S.)
             Major Hepburn, Sir!

     He leaves. A beat while Schofield orientates himself. Then
     he turns and walks out into -


59   EXT. 2ND TRENCH - CONTINUOUS                                  59

     The sounds of the wounded and the dying as they pass. The
     German guns have stopped for now. A brief pause.

     Schofield walks along the line.

     The B, C and D Companies are gathered, pulling in the
     survivors, carrying dying and wounded men along the trench.

     Lifting them by hand where they have no stretchers.

     Schofield continues along. Searching for officers, for
     Lieutenant Blake. No one looks at him. No one sees him. He
     slips past them, a ghost.


60   EXT. SHATTERED COMMS TRENCH - CONTINUOUS                      60

     Schofield turns the corner, and pushes his way along the
     zig-zag length of the trench.

     STRETCHER BEARERS push past him, pressing him against the
     back wall as they pass with the wounded.

                       SCHOFIELD
             Sergeant, I have to find Lieutenant
             Blake. Do you know where he is?

                       SERGEANT
             No.

     Schofield follows them, up a slope, and emerging out into-
                                                               117.


61   EXT. MEADOW - CONTINUOUS                                         61

     An impromptu field station, where several overwhelmed
     MEDICAL OFFICERS, CHAPLAINS and ORDERLIES from the RAMC
     tend to the wounded.

     Schofield moves to the tent.

                       SCHOFIELD
             Sir, is Lieutenant Blake here?

                       MEDICAL OFFICER
             No idea.
                  (beat)
             Move along Corporal.

     Schofield walks through the tent, scanning the wounded.

     Looking at the faces, the bodies.

                       MEDICAL OFFCIER
             If you can walk, move to the triage
             area.

     None of the men are officers, none could be Blake’s
     brother.

                       SCHOFIELD
             Lieutenant Blake! Blake?! Has
             anyone seen Lieutenant Blake?

     He moves through a tent of gravely wounded men. The
     terrible sounds of the dying. None are Blake’s brother.

     Schofield moves outside. He finally stands still, hopeless.

     Sick with his failure.

                       LIEUTENANT (O.S)
             Now come on boys. He’s taken one in
             the leg. He’s lost a lot of blood.

     Schofield turns to see an Officer. He is following a
     stretcher bearer into the field station from the opposite
     direction.

     Schofield stares at the man’s back. The sound of his voice.

     Just an instinct...

                       SCHOFIELD
             Lieutenant Blake?
                                                        118.


The Officer stops and turns to him. His similarity to his
brother takes Schofield’s breath away.

                     LIEUTENANT BLAKE
        Yes.

Schofield is shaky on his feet. He sways a bit, staring at
him.

                  LIEUTENANT BLAKE
        Do you need medical assistance?

                  SCHOFIELD
        No, Sir. I’m from the 8th.

                  LIEUTENANT BLAKE
        What the hell are you doing here?

                  SCHOFIELD
        I was sent here to deliver a
        message--

Recognition plays on Blake’s face, he smiles at the mention
of his brother’s brigade, moves towards Schofield.

                  LIEUTENANT BLAKE
        The 8th? You must know my brother.

                  SCHOFIELD
        I was sent here with him.

                  LIEUTENANT BLAKE
        Tom’s here? Where is he?

Schofield looks at him. Blake’s smile slowly drops. A
pause.

                  SCHOFIELD
        It was very quick.

Blake takes it in.

                  SCHOFIELD
        I’m sorry.

Blake nods, wordless. Schofield goes into his tunic pocket,
pulls out Blake’s possessions. There is blood on them. The
elder Blake’s face is ashen as he takes them. His eyes fill
with tears.

                  LIEUTENANT BLAKE
        What’s your name?
                                                       119.


                  SCHOFIELD
        Schofield, Sir.

Blake nods. He looks down at his brother’s possessions in
his hands.

                  LIEUTENANT BLAKE
        I’m sorry... what?

                  SCHOFIELD
        It’s Schofield, Sir. William
        Schofield. Will.

                  LIEUTENANT BLAKE
        Well, you need some food. Get
        yourself to the mess tent.

Beat. Schofield turns to leave. Then -

                  SCHOFIELD
        If I may, I’d like to write to your
        mother. Tell her that Tom wasn’t
        alone.

                  LIEUTENANT BLAKE
        Of course.

Schofield searches for something to say.

                  SCHOFIELD
        He was...he was a good man. Always
        telling funny stories.

Blake nods. It doesn’t seem enough.

Then Schofield finds the right words.

                  SCHOFIELD
        He saved my life.

Schofield reaches out to shake his hand. Blake takes it.
They are still for a second.

                  LIEUTENANT BLAKE
        I am glad you were with him.
             (Then)
        Thank you, Will.

Schofield nods. He turns and walks away.

He is like a sleepwalker. Unsure of where to go.
                                                         120.


He moves away from the makeshift Aid Post and into the
meadow beyond.

The grass sways in the breeze. This place is beginning to
turn gold in the morning sun. Schofield drifts through it.

The noise of the horror behind him gradually fades.

Ahead, on the plain, an oak tree towers. Untouched. On the
high branches, leaves dance in the wind.

Schofield walks towards it. He sits on the far side of it,
his back to the trunk. The land stretches out ahead of him
in the early light.

He listens to the wind in the leaves. Birdsong.

He undoes his breast pocket. He pulls out the small tobacco
tin. He stares at it.

He takes a deep breath and opens it. Two photographs.

Schofield lifts them out, looks at them:

TWO YOUNG GIRLS, his daughters. They smile at the camera.

He looks at the other - his WIFE.

He turns the photo over.

On the back, her handwriting:

“Come back to us.”

He stares at it for a long beat.

The pain on his face ebbs into longing. Love.

He closes his eyes and feels the sun on his face.

THE END.

FOR LANCE CORPORAL ALFRED H. MENDES

1ST BATTALION, KING’S ROYAL RIFLE CORPS

WHO TOLD US THE STORIES