And now, returning to competition
after some years away,
all the way from the Stuart Hargreaves Dance Studio
in Bicester,
couple number seven,
Frederick and Winifred Thursday.
Here's looking at you.
The motion before this house is,
"This House believes in an end to immigration
and the repatriation of all settled immigrants
to their ancestral lands."
This motion is not about the color of one's skin.
It is about national resources
stretched to breaking point
by an influx of immigrants
to this green and pleasant land.
It is well to be careful
who we designate an immigrant.
The black man has been here a lot longer than the Angle,
the Saxon, the Jute, the Norman, the Huguenot.
Long before many of your forefathers
walked this green and pleasant land,
it was the Nubian
who stood watch on Hadrian's Wall.
Now, the motion before this esteemed house
calls for "all settled immigrants to return
to their ancestral lands."
So, that being the case, I have to say...
"After you."
The Regiment.
White enough now, eh?
Whoa, whoa, she's with me, she's with me!
That's what you get.
You are mad.
Do you want to get arrested?
What are you doing?
What am I going to do with you?
What are you gonna do with me?
Regional quarters,
semifinals next, Fred.
Don't put them there.
I won't put them there.
When's that?
September.
And we'll need to "look to" if we want to make the finals.
Well, it's finding time.
You'll have time, won't you?
You've done your bit, Fred.
And more.
If anyone deserves a rest.
Right, right, left, right.
Ah, Thursday.
Sir.
As you were, as you were.
I want three volunteers to escort a civilian party
up to High Wood at 1100.
They're from some fashion magazine, I believe.
I'll do it, sir. Very well.
Pick two other men from your section.
Carry on, Corporal Thursday.
Anything?
All quiet on the Western.
The word is out for Cromwell Ames
from here to Brum and all points else.
Not a peep,
not a whisper.
What about Eddie Nero? Lying low.
If there is a turf war, it's gone underground.
Lull before the storm, maybe?
Hey, what happened to you this morning?
That's the third day in a row
Strange has brought me in.
Oh, something come up.
Everything all right, though, is it?
Oh, yeah, fine.
Lunch?
I can't today, I've got statements to take
from this fracas outside the debating society.
Oh, right.
Well, fair enough.
Corporal Thursday!
What is that long-haired poof
doing on my parade ground?
He's got a pass, sir.
What bloody pass?
Oh, my eye!
Would you look at that?
At about 3:00 in the afternoon,
the right horn of the Zulu impi
debouched from a dry stream bed
west of Colonel Stewart's position
and made a sustained attack upon the laager
lasting the best part of an hour,
before being repulsed
by Lieutenant Burnaby's bayonet charge.
Your attention, gentlemen,
if you would.
This is for your benefit.
Now, I've been given to understand
that some sort of private area would be desirable,
to serve as a makeshift dressing room.
Just somewhere for the girls to get changed,
and do their hair and make-up.
I believe H Three,
one of the buildings we use for exercises, should suffice.
It's fairly spartan,
but the best we can do, I'm afraid.
Well, I imagine you're keen
to get on with your picture taking.
Cool.
Come on, girls, not here, get back in.
Oh, sorry.
♪ No time it's too late girl ♪
♪ I'm not hanging around for you. ♪
Yes, Jean, lovely.
Great, all right.
Give me something more now.
♪ No time trust the way ♪
♪ Work out what you belong. ♪
Canny good skive is this Corps.
Stood watching tarts slip in and out their clobber.
So, gan on,
which one do you fancy best?
I've got my eye on that one on the tank.
Jean, her name is.
How do you know that?
She does that perfume ad,
what is it... Vespertine. Oh.
All right! What are you horrible lot staring at?
You never seen a woman before?
Oh, not like that, Color.
Eyes front.
I know what your lot are like.
What are my lot like, Color?
Just keep your dirty heathen mind above the equator,
or you'll have my sticky end.
Beautiful.
All right, Jean, that's great, love.
Next change, please.
Give her a hand? Yep.
Howay.
Do you always work with that photographer?
Thankfully, not always.
It must be interesting, seeing the world
and getting paid for it.
It's no different to you.
Oh, we're off to Germany in a couple of days.
It's the first time I've been out of the country.
Well.
It's all shooting, right?
You are sweet, soldier boy.
No.
I know what you want.
But I'm spoken for.
So, Mr. Hutchens.
You were part of this Reception Committee
that assaulted Lady Bayswater last night.
Her sort deserve all they get.
Her sort? She's a fascist.
Isn't that just everybody who disagrees with you?
Charity Mudford was interned in Holloway during the war
under Defense Regulation 18B.
You've heard of her old man, presumably?
The late viscount, the Lord Bayswater?
Leading light in the British Union of Fascists.
For Christ's sake, Hitler danced at their wedding.
I think she qualifies.
Yes, super.
Okay, one more.
Think of Warren Beatty.
Fabulous.
Right, that's us finishing.
Very good, sir.
Got everything you need? Yes, thanks.
Just pack up and be on our way.
Collier.
Well done, Jean, you were wonderful.
All right, come on Suki, make yourself useful.
Le flic.
Move, stupid, you're in the sun.
Is that better? Uh-huh.
I got lunch.
What have you been doing?
I told you, I got lunch.
What else? Like what?
Like work?
Some story the Agency want me to cover.
Some coiffeur.
Oh, I though you didn't do fashion.
I don't.
Right, girls...
Ready?
Just a minute.
Sorry, Corp.
Call of nature.
Now what?
Everything all right? Yes.
Sorry, we're just waiting on Jean.
She forgot something.
I said I'd pick her up here on the way out.
Maybe she misunderstood and went back to the village.
Jean?
Jean!
Got something.
Here!
Miss Ward?
Jean?
The body of a young woman
has been discovered on Ministry of Defense land.
Details are thin,
but she appears to have been a civilian.
Right, sir.
Whereabouts is this?
The army barracks up at High Wood.
Your son's there, isn't he?
Yes, sir. In light of which,
I think, given the potential delicacy of the situation,
it would be best to confine your operational involvement
to a more managerial role
here at the station.
Of course, sir.
Morse knows him, doesn't he?
Your son?
But he's not family.
I see no reason to keep him from the investigation.
It will be all right, I'm sure.
This is Murder Town, Chief Superintendent.
It's used by the regiment for exercises.
House-to-house fighting, sniping,
that kind of thing.
The police, Colonel.
Colonel Champion, C.O.
My 2IC, Major Coward.
Chief Superintendent Bright, Thames Valley.
Detective Sergeants Strange and Morse,
and Detective Constable Fancy.
Now, obviously, this is your show,
but please bear in mind this is still an operational barracks,
for the next 48 hours at least.
48 hours?
We're readying for deployment.
In two days we leave for Germany,
and the regiment as many of us have known
and loved it will cease to exist.
Now, there are live-firing areas
and final exercises still in progress,
so your men should not wander unattended.
Understood.
Excellent, shall we?
Now the girl's body was found in H5,
the building just down here.
Doctor.
Gentlemen.
Do we have a name for her?
Jean Ward, according to the photographer.
Died within the last four hours.
So far as I can tell,
we have a single stab wound through the back.
Most likely penetrated the heart.
No sign she attempted to defend herself.
Taken unawares, then?
What had she lost?
Did she say?
A purse.
I found it in the woods.
Whereupon I split the search party
to cover more ground,
with orders to rendezvous here at 1630.
Well, we will need to speak to all of them. Of course.
We've set aside one of the classrooms in the study block.
Who found the body?
Oh. that was Lance Corporal Thursday.
What's all this about, Major Coward?
Police.
What are they doing on the base?
Policing.
Left, right, left, right...
What happened to you last night?
You never came home.
This Frenchie piece, is it?
What's her line, then?
Photojournalist.
Figures. How's that?
Well, let's face it,
with you, it was never going to be Doreen
from the corner shop, was it?
Bit of all right, is she?
Yeah, I suppose.
It's just a girl.
Just a girl?
Ought to leave some for the rest of us.
Claudine?
That blondie one?
Way you've been filling your dance-card lately,
you'd think rationing was coming in.
She's good company.
So.
How're we gonna run this without the old man?
You're senior.
Who would you like to see first?
What's that?
It looks to be a cap badge.
One of the squaddies, then, sir?
After we split up,
I came down to the washhouse.
I thought maybe she might've had to use the ladies'.
I called for her, but there was nobody there.
So I made my way back to Murder Town.
I worked my way back to the tank park,
thought we could've missed her in the woods.
They're big enough, like.
She could've gone down to her original rendezvous.
But I didn't see anything. Right.
I don't know what else I can tell you.
I should've been watching her.
You haven't got eyes in your arse.
All right, that'll be it for now.
Do you want to whistle up an escort?
Maybe you could?
Two minutes.
Right, so if there's anything you've left out,
now will be the time.
She was in my care.
If I'd done my job... Sam,
things happen.
The only person responsible for this is whoever did it.
You've been around Dad too long; it's rubbing off.
All right.
How is he?
Well, how do you think?
Any messages for them?
Just tell them I'm all right.
If that's allowed.
And Joanie, if you see her.
Well, there's not much more
we can do with the light that's left.
We'll have a full team out first thing.
Fingertip search. Sergeant Major Davies?
I need this area secured
until 0430.
Nobody in or out without my authorization.
Very good, sir.
And had you photographed her before?
A few times over the years.
Actually, I got her started.
We did a campaign for the Egg Marketing Board.
She was the soft boiled girl.
Your relationship
was purely professional though?
We saw each other at parties,
gallery openings, things like that.
What DS Morse is asking is,
were you knocking her off?
No, no.
I mean... not lately.
We had a brief number, but strictly casual.
What was she like...
in her personality?
Nice.
Crazy.
Mixed up, I suppose.
About what?
Who knows?
What about boyfriends?
She'd a few, but nobody serious.
Any connection to Oxford?
Her stepmother has a place out this way, I believe.
Stepmother?
It's not something she liked to talk about.
I mean,
Jean Ward was just her working name.
She was the Right Honorable Moira Creighton-Ward.
The daughter of Lord Bayswater and his first wife.
Charity Mudford is her stepmother.
Drummer Hawkins.
The boy that saved the colors at Mboto Gorge.
That's his actual drum.
Victoria Cross.
Posthumous.
Ah...
His parents' pride, I'm sure.
Well, the regiment's, certainly.
You're with the police?
Yes, Detective Sergeant Morse, Thames Valley.
Dr. Laidlaw.
On secondment from Lonsdale.
I lecture on military history.
I'm also writing a history of the regiment.
Is there any news?
I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say.
But I'm sure you'll hear about it soon enough.
Her stepmother's Lady Bayswater.
Charity Mudford? Mm.
I saw her at the debating society yesterday.
What do you make to her?
Well, she's got guts, I'll give her that.
When you know everyone in the room
would like to have seen you hanged,
it takes a certain amount of sangfroid to smile back.
Or just a brass neck.
It's a wonder she can show her face at all.
Well, she seems pretty unrepentant.
Defiant, even.
Did Hitler really dance at their wedding, do you think?
Unlikely.
But they did stop off at Berchtesgaden for a few days
on their way back from their honeymoon.
Why did she come back to England?
Who knows?
Maybe we all come home in the end.
Did you see Sam?
He's going to be fine.
He's in the clear.
Comes to the army, nobody's ever in the clear.
Only the dead.
He's got you now, Johnny.
Says you, Mungo, says you.
But yon's a canny bugger, he always has been.
See, Mungo, I do have
a natural advantage.
And what might that be, Colonel?
Billiards is a game for gentleman.
Oh.
There's fighting talk, make no mistake.
What did I tell you?
Never trust a bloody Englishman.
Not too late tonight, Mungo, eh?
Heavy day tomorrow,
what with this girl on top of all.
Right you are, Johnny.
Night, Mac.
Johnny.
You'll take a dram for the road?
I'm done, Mac.
You're poor company, Mungo.
Very poor.
You never used to be such a dull companion.
Well, go if you're going.
Prisoner and escort, is that it?
Go to your bed, man.
You've not the tits for a wet-nurse.
I'm for a turn round the square.
Get some air.
Did you see him?
No.
No, it has to be played by the book.
How d'you mean?
Mr. Bright wants me
to take a back seat, seeing as it's family.
But Morse saw him.
Said he's doing all right.
I should let Joan know.
Oh, there's no point in worrying her without cause.
It won't be anything to do with Sam.
Single stab wound.
From behind.
Through the intercostal region
between the fourth and fifth rib.
Pierced the posterior heart.
Penetrated to a depth of six-and-a-quarter inches,
but there's no impression
of a guard on the skin about the wound,
so it's unlikely it was driven all the way in.
A bayonet?
That's certainly possible.
But there's nothing else?
No funny business or...
There doesn't appear to be a sexual element, no.
But these bottles of Dexedrine and Seconal
were in her handbag.
Non-lethal quantities of both in her bloodstream.
De rigeur in the modeling business, I believe.
Amphetamines for weight loss.
And the barbiturates?
Take the edge off the day.
Cumulative effect is to leave one numb.
To what?
Life.
Where's your other beret, Private Oswald?
I don't know, sir.
When did you see it last?
I can't remember, sir.
Up at High Wood, I think.
We're searching the area this morning.
If it's up there, we'll find it.
Lost your cap badge, Corporal.
Yes, sir.
Couple of days ago.
I was going to put in a chitty to the QM,
but with the deployment,
it slipped my mind.
To what do I owe the pleasure?
I'm afraid I have some very bad news.
It concerns your stepdaughter, Moira Creighton-Ward.
Ah, I see.
Drugs, is it?
She does have a problem.
No, madam.
Suicide, then?
Why would you think that?
Well, she'd attempted it before.
It's how her mother went.
No, madam, she was murdered.
How?
She was stabbed.
When did you last see her?
Oh, uh, not for some years.
Things had never been very good between us,
but she kept up a pretense of civility
for her father's sake.
But after Paddy died, I, I didn't really hear from her.
What was she like?
Oh, quite mad.
Like her mother.
She ran up huge debts, Bixby's club,
Berkeley Square,
expected her father to cover them,
which he did.
And what about men?
Did she have a boyfriend?
Oh, yes.
Yes, she'd been engaged.
In the manner of the public convenience
at Victoria Station.
Often, and for short periods.
It was all attention seeking.
She'd pick up with some wholly unsuitable prospect
for a couple of months, and then drop him.
Unsuitable in what way?
Ah.
Non-U types.
Jews, blacks, Americans.
Anything to annoy her father.
And you, presumably.
I could hardly care less what she did.
But I knew
if she carried on, in this way,
she'd come to a bad end.
Right, general search,
moving line abreast through the wood.
You're to be on the lookout in particular
for an army beret, like this,
either with or without a cap badge.
Right?
About your business.
Keep an eye. Of course.
Thanks.
Integration for the nation!
Morning.
Matey.
How'd the postmortem go?
Single stab wound.
Bayonet, possibly.
There's a quantity of uppers and downers in her system,
which is par for the course in the circles
in which she moved, according to Dr. DeBryn.
You?
We've a Private Oswald.
Says he lost his beret up here yesterday.
Right.
So if we find it, and it doesn't have a cap badge?
Sam Thursday's lost a cap badge too.
Oi! Oi! You!
In the bloody field! Yes, you!
Stand still! Don't move!
What is it? What is wrong?
He's in a minefield.
He's what?
Fancy, stay still!
What?
Stay completely still!
A soldier will come and fetch you.
Integration for the nation!
You can't call me a racialist,
not by any stretch of the imagination.
I went to see Sammy Davis Jr. in Golden Boy
at the Palladium only three months back.
So I think that speaks volumes.
Then why not take the sign down?
If it were up to me, I would.
It's your salon, Mrs. Radowicz.
It's not as if I have anything against them personally.
I don't.
I've always gone out of my way to treat them like equals.
It's my customers.
They won't have it.
What is it they don't like?
Towels, for one.
Towels?
They don't like using the same towels.
I've told them all the towels are sent away for a boil wash,
but it cuts very little ice.
Then there's the combs.
I can't send them away for a boil wash.
Someone said I should buy a sterilizer,
but this is a hair salon, not an operating theater.
Well, at least your customers
wouldn't have to worry about curlers.
No.
Every cloud.
It's all right,
you're perfectly safe. Nothing to worry about.
Whatever you say.
Just follow on behind Private Jones.
Watch where he puts his feet, see you do the same.
Gentlemen.
Thank you.
What do you think you're doing going out into the field?
Time and a place, matey. Give the lad a break.
I thought I saw something. What do you mean, you thought you saw something?
Out in the field.
That's what I went in there for.
There's a name inside.
It's blood.
Right, so tell us when you last remember
having your beret.
I can't say, sir.
Yesterday afternoon, I reckon.
Right.
You were late for the transport back to the front gate.
I, uh, got taken short
and went into the woods to relieve myself.
And did you have your beret then?
I don't know, sir. It was hot.
We'd been moving stuff for the photographer,
rails of clothes.
I must've stuck it in my pocket for a second.
Maybe it came out of my pocket
on the way back to the vehicle.
With everything that went on,
I didn't miss it till later.
You didn't see Miss Ward in the woods?
No, sir.
What about anybody else? No, sir.
There was nobody out there that I saw.
You were part of the search party
that went to look for her?
Yes, sir.
Me and Corporal Thursday,
Geordie, Sergeant Major Davies. and Mister Carmichael.
You didn't see her then? No, sir.
It was Corporal Thursday that found her.
Eventually.
Maybe she had got lost, as everyone thought.
Maybe you found her first. I didn't.
You sure you didn't try it on with her?
No, sir.
She wasn't interested, maybe.
That it?
She scream?
Call out?
Everyone out looking for her,
it wouldn't take long before they found you.
You had to shut her up.
No.
It wasn't like that.
She give you the glad eye?
Lead you up the garden path, then change her mind?
That how it was? No.
It was just a kiss.
Just a kiss.
Where was this?
In the woods.
When I went for a jimmy.
She said she was trying to find Murder Town
and had lost her way.
We had a couple of words,
and I said I'd see her back
once I'd done my business.
She gave me a peck, and then something spooked her.
What was it, what spooked her?
I don't know, there was a noise, a twig cracking.
But you couldn't see anybody else there?
No.
But she was keen to make the bus.
I pointed her in the right direction.
She set off, I had a pee, and I made my way back.
I swear, I never touched her.
Ossie?
As you were, Corporal.
I didn't do it, Corp.
You gotta tell 'em.
Corp, I didn't do it.
It's a bad business, Johnny.
It's bad for morale on the eve of deployment.
Well, maybe that's a blessing, Jack.
Germany.
The men'll have more important things to worry about.
More important than the honor of the regiment?
This time tomorrow,
there won't be a regiment, Mungo's right.
We'll be out of here, and on our way.
A good soldier never looks back, Jack, you know that.
And the poor wee laddie with the police?
Private Oswald?
No man left behind, Johnny.
So it's his beret, no question.
Without a cap badge and bloodied,
as if it'd been used to wipe the blade clean.
But no sign of the weapon as yet?
He'd have to be some kind of idiot
to tie himself to the crime like that.
Or he panicked.
But say he's telling the truth.
Say he lost his beret in the woods,
and somebody else picked it up.
All rather fortuitous, wouldn't you say?
Perhaps, but it's not impossible, sir.
Look, matey, I know it's no locked-room mystery,
but sometimes the simplest answer is the right one.
What've you got against it being him?
Nothing, I'm just trying to keep an open mind.
It is the job, isn't it?
You don't think Oswald did it?
Something spooked her in the woods.
If you're taking Oswald's word for it.
Of course he's going to say that.
He's got nothing else, has he?
But what if somebody else was there?
Who? I don't know.
But someone that she knew, or knew her.
Or recognized her at least.
From where? Pin-up, wasn't she?
A model.
Well, maybe someone saw her in the papers?
She'd have been pretty hard to miss.
Outside of her work, she was well known in society circles,
and always in the gossip columns.
If anyone on that base knew her,
it's far more likely to have been someone of her own class.
An officer, then.
That was the base.
There's been a development.
Right, left, right, left...
This was found where?
Stuffed down a drain in the washhouse.
Shortly after 1400, by a cleaning party.
Which consisted of whom?
Lance Corporal Thursday and Private Collier.
Um, right,
and who has access to the washhouse, generally?
Well, it's designated for the use of other ranks,
but anyone on the base could stop off there.
And could anyone have been there
during this photographic shoot?
Unlikely.
Most of the base is down here at HQ,
preparing for deployment.
Where is it in relation to Murder Town?
Uh, ten-, 15-minute walk.
A seven-minute run.
You have to pass it on the way back
from High Wood to barracks.
Right.
Well, we'll take a run out there later.
But first, I'd like to speak to this cleaning party.
Integration for the nation!
Heads up!
As you were.
Private Collier,
I understand it was you who found the bayonet.
Yes, Colonel.
The water wouldn't drain away, so Sam and me...
Lance Corporal Thursday,
Colonel-- we got the grate up.
I had a rummage, like, and there it was.
Any questions?
Did either of you come by the washhouse
the afternoon Miss Ward went missing?
Private Oswald did, sir, aye.
Only to see if the girl had gone there, mind.
Me and Ossie split up, sir,
while the Thursday was away fetching Lt. Carmichael.
I stopped by the washhouse too.
On my way to raise the alarm, just in case.
Did you see anybody?
No.
I gave the place a quick shufti
and then made my way back to base.
Any of them could have put it there.
Including Private Oswald.
He's admitted to snogging her in the woods,
maybe that's as much as he can admit to himself.
It's Oswald's beret we've found covered in blood.
If it turns out this bayonet's got his dabs on it...?
If.
Short of a signed confession, what more do you want?
You can't win 'em all, matey.
Look, there's only two people missing cap badges,
and one of 'em's Sam Thursday.
There's no way it was him.
You didn't think he was a bit cagey?
Integration for the nation!
The sign on this door says, "No Coloureds"!
This is the language
of segregation.
Yes!
Of apartheid.
It is bigotry.
Now the world knows what happens
when one group of human beings
decides another group is something less.
But make no mistake, my brothers and sisters,
the road that starts with exclusion
ends at the crematorium.
I've asked around if anybody from the barracks
has been out to the washhouse.
They're not putting their hands up to it.
Right.
Strange's just finishing up with the C.O.
What's all that?
It's everything I could find on Moira Creighton-Ward
from the press archive.
Seems a lot of palaver to go through
to get rid of it.
If it is the murder weapon,
then why not just bury it in the woods?
Be the devil's own job to find it out there,
even with a mine-detector.
Place must be alive with shrapnel and spent rounds.
Hm?
I said it seems a daft place
to hide a murder weapon.
The washhouse.
Unless whoever put it there wanted it to be found.
That's interesting. What?
Lady Bayswater said her step-daughter was engaged
"Often, and for short periods."
Look, "Announcements."
Hello.
Detective Sergeant Morse, isn't it?
That's right.
Dr. Laidlaw, this is Detective Sergeant Strange.
Good afternoon.
Toy soldiers, Doctor?
Wargaming.
It's instructive for officers to replay famous battles.
I'm sure.
What's today?
The Battle of Cannae.
Second Punic War.
Are you familiar?
He will be, I expect.
It's just a treat.
The regiment moving out.
All feels rather end of term.
We wanted to talk to you
about the girl that was killed here.
I understood you arrested one of the privates for it.
He's helping us with our inquiries.
I'm not sure what I can tell you.
I didn't see her.
Was Jean something, wasn't it?
No, no, her name was Moira Creighton-Ward.
I believe you were engaged to be married.
Ten years ago.
Ah.
Wait a minute, you're...
You're saying the girl up at High Wood,
That was... that was Moira?
Good God.
When did you see her last?
Oh, not since she quit her degree.
You never wondered what happened to her?
It was one mad term.
We were very young.
In any case, it would never have worked out.
Why, why not?
Oh, I suppose because
I was always a rather dull academic,
and Moira was... wild.
Where were you
between 4:00 and 6:00 yesterday afternoon?
I was here.
Trying to complete my regimental history
in order to present it to the C.O.
at the flag lowering ceremony tomorrow.
Anyone vouch for your whereabouts?
I saw Col. McDuff in the Officers' Mess
at around 5:00.
Look.
Really.
I am very happily married with two children of my own.
So you see, if I'd married Moira,
I would never have met my wife.
You can't hold onto people.
All done?
For now.
I want to get this bayonet back
so forensics can take a look at it.
Have another word with Private Oswald,
see what he's got to say about it.
Right, well, I'll take one last look around here.
See if this Colonel McDuff can confirm Laidlaw's alibi.
I'll see you back at the station.
Morse.
I thought you had your man.
No, he's not been charged yet.
So what's this?
You're still looking for proof?
Something like that.
You?
What was it you didn't tell me, Sam?
She kissed me.
When I walked her back to Murder Town.
Just a kiss or... something else?
Just a kiss. But it was my fault.
I should've been watching her.
And now Ossie's in the frame.
He didn't do it, Morse.
Right.
Whatever happened, I'll get to the bottom of it.
I promise you.
Integration for the nation!
Whoa, whoa!
Yes?
You'd better come, sir.
I found this bastard creeping about behind the lines.
Easy, Jack, easy.
There's a good chap.
He's one of ours.
One of ours?
He disnae know the password.
Colonel McDuff!
You will release the prisoner into my charge, unharmed.
That's an order!
Colonel.
Your dagger, Jack.
Jack!
Major Coward, escort Colonel McDuff to his quarters.
Yes, Colonel.
Come on, Jack.
If you've ever wondered what a hero looks like,
you just met one.
Colonel McDuff is the bravest man I ever saw.
What's the matter with him?
Korea.
Imjin River.
4,000 of ours against 27,000 of theirs.
It's a night action,
Close quarters, wave after wave.
A third of the battalion were killed or wounded,
including Mad Jack McDuff, who took a mortar round.
When the order came to fall back,
he stayed behind.
Give the rest of us a chance.
Then two years in a Chinese prison camp.
If he drinks too much and sleeps with the light on,
then so be it.
He's earned the right.
Yeah, but all the same. No, Sergeant Morse.
There's no "all the same" about it.
The regiment takes care of its own.
♪ Dool for the order sent our lads to the Border ♪
♪ The English for ance by guile won the day ♪
♪ The Flowers of the Forest ♪
♪ That fought aye the foremost ♪
♪ The prime of our land... ♪
All right, Bennett, get yourself a brew.
I'll take it from here.
Sir.
Well.
First things first.
Are you all right?
You sure?
Division are looking for scalps.
They want to make an example.
Everyone there's going to be charged.
No one meant for it to get out of hand.
Nobody ever does.
Then the next thing is to get you out of here.
Aren't you going to charge me?
I was there.
No.
You weren't.
And you haven't been here, neither.
I've given my name and address.
You let me worry about that.
Come on.
All right?
I couldn't see you before.
I... I wanted to,
but it had to be by the book,
being family.
Your mum's been worried half out of her mind.
They arrested Ossie Oswald.
I know.
He didn't do it, Dad.
Well, it was him or you, Sam.
And I know it wasn't you.
Ossie's a good bloke.
You want to know how many good blokes I've nicked?
Good or bad don't come into it.
We just follow the evidence.
He's in my section.
I know him.
If you won't do anything about it, I will.
No. You're gonna keep your head down, your nose clean,
and in a couple of days,
you're going to ship over to Germany
and leave all this behind.
I'm not a kid anymore, Dad.
I know that. You know...
when I was at school,
I used to get it in the playground, A.C.A.B.
All Coppers Are Bastards.
"Not my dad," I'd say.
"He's one of the good ones."
Times I'd get a thumping.
You never said.
No.
You know why?
Because I was frightened of what you might do to them.
Give Mum my love.
Sam... One of the good ones.
I really believed that.
Are you one of the good ones?
Thanks for the lift, there was no need.
Maybe we should go for a drink.
You know, when you're feeling up for it.
You're persistent, aren't you?
Faint heart never won fair lady.
You don't even know me.
I'd love to, though.
All right.
What?
Really?
Cold feet? No.
No, no, no, no,
just surprised, is all.
I'd take advantage if I were you.
Oh, Shirl.
Ow. Oh, I'm so sorry.
I'm so sorry.
I'll see you at work.
Sure.
Sam's out of the firing line.
He's off the hook, you don't have to worry.
I knew he'd be right.
He's a good boy.
Not a boy anymore.
He's a man now, his own man.
He's got responsibilities.
You'd be proud of him.
Oh, I'm always proud of him.
They grow up so quick.
One day the biggest decision in the world
is wafer or cornet, and the next, it's...
life or death.
Shame we can't all get together for a nice tea,
you know, all four of us,
before he goes off to Germany.
Well, there's plenty of time for that when he gets back.
Nine months?
You could always get the coach down there, see him.
All that way?
Why not?
Else fly.
What would I want with flying?
And anyway, what do you mean "You could"?
You mean "We could."
It's not as if you shan't have time.
What about work?
What about it?
You'll have done with it by then.
You're not changing your mind, are you?
No, no, of course not.
Morse'll be all right,
If that's what you're fretting about.
Yeah, I know he will.
This last go round, he's doing well.
Well, then.
Remember what we said...
...you only get one life.
Love and rain.
How English.
I don't think we can claim it all for ourselves.
People have been doing this since there's been people.
Before, even.
Back when we were... whatever we were.
Quel philosophe.
They probably lay on branches,
wrapped in each other's arms,
staring out at thunderheads breaking over the savannah.
Safe in that one, brief moment
from the vast awfulness of it all.
If he was as gloomy as you,
I hope she kicked him out of the tree.
Gloomy?
Yes, my God, some men...
Some men? ...so gloomy after.
Of course, that's the part you hear.
Seriously, why do you do that? Like someone died.
In my case, someone usually has.
I don't know.
They say you're never so alive
as when you're close to death.
Well, maybe the reverse is also true.
Jesus, it's just sex.
It's not love.
I know.
It's good to be clear.
Just one day, you'll be gone, right?
I suppose I'll miss you, that's all.
We said no regrets.
How French.
Dégagé!
Again?
Oui.
Left, right, left, right!
Left, right, left, right, Left, right, left, right!
Steady, halt!
Anything further on this soldier we've got in custody?
Yes, sir.
Strange put it to him that we've recovered
what looks to be the murder weapon.
Rattled him, apparently.
Oh, in what way?
He went back on his original statement,
said that after the initial kiss,
she suddenly pulled away from him
and gave him a slap.
Was there anything else, sir?
Actually there... there was one thing.
I was talking to Mrs. Bright last night
about Charity Mudford.
She told me she'd heard a rumor
doing the rounds in Mayfair in the late '30s
Lord Bayswater wasn't Moira Creighton-Ward's father at all.
She say who was?
The gossip was
some young officer in the South Oxfordshires.
I'd imagine Lady Bayswater might have an idea.
All come to her now, I suppose.
What will?
The estate Moira inherited from her mother,
the first Lady Bayswater.
She was the money, apparently.
No other living relatives.
When probate goes through,
Charity Mudford will be a very rich widow indeed.
Died between midnight and 2:00.
Single shot, entering the head
just beneath the orbit of the right eye
and exiting along the lambdoid suture.
Nine millimeter.
Cartridge just there.
Automatic pistol by the look of things.
Who found him?
Sergeant Major Davies had what's left of C Company
out for a run first thing.
I've ordered an inventory
of all sidearms on the base
to see if there are any unaccounted for.
Is that likely?
All firearms are kept securely
under lock and key in the armory,
but any of us would have
to sign for them in the guard room,
and there's been no withdrawal.
At least not last night, in any event.
When, then?
Two days ago.
Colonel McDuff withdrew a sidearm
for a session on the target range.
A Browning L9A1.
Nine millimeter?
Yes.
And where is it now?
It hasn't yet been signed back in.
It'll be about this photographer laddie
up at Murder Town, would it?
More or less.
I wanted to talk to you about Doctor Laidlaw.
What about him?
He says saw you in the officers' mess
the afternoon Jean Ward was killed.
Can you confirm that?
About 5:00, would it be?
Around then.
Aye, that sounds about right.
You remember him. Aye.
He usually drops in about then.
He thinks I'm a soft touch.
How's that? Rules of the mess.
Guests can't sign for their own drinks.
And I'm not one to see a man go thirsty.
Now if that's all?
No. Not quite.
You signed out a Browning L9A1
from the armory two days ago. Aye, what of it?
Where is it? It's back in the armory.
I signed it in straight after practice.
No, you didn't.
Well, I'm sure I did.
I remember taking it back.
I signed it out, signed it in.
Same as always, swear to God.
Maybe you thought you did.
But if you had,
then it would be there, wouldn't it?
You can't think
I had anything to do with that photographer,
or this wee lassie.
You said yourself, I've an alibi.
Laidlaw saw me.
Maybe he was mistaken.
No.
No, I saw him.
I swear it.
The same way you swore
you put the pistol back in the armory?
What exactly were you doing
creeping around the barracks last night?
I don't know.
Gentlemen, if you've a moment?
Sometimes the men come through the wire,
if they've been out on a late pass,
missed the last bus,
rather than finding themselves on a charge.
We repair any breeches we find,
but it's a large perimeter and pretty porous.
You put a sentry on this,
until we've got forensics out?
Yes, of course.
Looks like it puts Private Oswald
in the clear, at any rate.
For this, but not for Moira Creighton-Ward.
You've changed your tune.
I told you, I'm just trying to keep an open mind.
Two killers on the base?
They're connected, surely.
Maybe, maybe not.
Interesting.
Farridge was at the protest too.
So Farridge was in with these "Make Love Not War" types?
Hard to see how he'd find anyone
sympathetic to that on the base.
Well, maybe he didn't.
Maybe he found someone who felt the exact opposite.
Wandering round that late at night?
Perhaps it was Moira Creighton-Ward's killer.
Going back to the scene of the crime?
Could've had unfinished business up there.
Something he'd forgotten.
Something he'd left behind could incriminate him.
Okay, if it wasn't Private Oswald,
- then who? - That leaves Private Collier,
who found the murder weapon in the washhouse;
Lieutenant Carmichael, who ordered the wash-house swabbed;
and Sergeant Major Davies,
who set Collier and Sam to cleaning.
What about this run-in you had with McDuff?
Oh, he's a law unto himself,
but he's held in high regard by the rest of the officers.
Something of a regimental hero, by all accounts.
Think they're protecting him?
I think that when he had his knife in my back,
its point was somewhere between my fourth and fifth ribs.
Same as Moira?
Mm, same as Moira, but it is textbook.
They taught us that much in Signals.
And he'd signed out
this Browning nine-mil that's still missing.
Yes, but Laidlaw can stand alibi
for the time of Moira's killing.
He says he saw him in the officers' mess.
What if McDuff didn't kill the girl
but did kill Farridge?
Two murders, two killers,
two different motives.
Division are after an answer on Private Oswald.
We must charge him by the end of the day
or release.
It's under review, sir.
What with the killing of this photographer, Farridge,
it looks like the killer could still be on the base.
Fresh off the telex.
From Dr. DeBryn on the bayonet.
Thank you. Sir.
Ah, Constable Trewlove...
Good heavens, what happened to you?
Yesterday's public disorder, sir.
Well, bruised or not,
your ready smile brightens our drab walls
with much needed vim and youthful freshness.
Wouldn't you say so, Fancy?
Yes, sir.
There's a blood match
on the weapon used to kill Moira Creighton-Ward.
But it's not a regulation army bayonet.
No? What then?
According to Dr. DeBryn,
it was made for the K98 rifle.
Standard Wehrmacht issue. German?
Well, her stepmother's certainly got German connections.
In and out each other's beds,
and at it like knives, according to Mrs. Bright.
No wonder the upper classes are obsessed with pedigree.
Lady Bayswater.
We're rather hoping you can help us.
We've come into certain information
that raises questions about your stepdaughter's parentage.
Policeman.
What a grubby trade you practice.
Were my husband alive,
you wouldn't dare ask such a thing.
It may have a bearing on her death.
What utter nonsense.
This is nothing short of persecution.
Persecution?
Spare me.
You got off light.
Your husband should have hanged
along with Spode and Webley
and the rest of his fascist shower.
You've got the nerve to have something like that
on display?
I can't change the past.
If Winston hadn't been so eager for office,
all the unpleasantness might have been avoided.
My husband had Hitler's ear.
We could have persuaded him.
Softened his resolve.
He wasn't immune to reason.
Charming conversationalist, no doubt.
Actually, he was a very good mimic.
Terribly witty.
Sir, is it time for that telephone call?
To the station?
I can take it from here.
The unpleasantness,
as you call it,
cost me six years of my life,
and untold millions a great deal more.
May I?
Hmm.
Now, I understand, as Moira's sole living relative,
you stand to inherit the entirety of her estate.
What are you insinuating?
Money is a very powerful motivator.
To the common vulgarity.
Now, is that all?
Not quite.
It's been suggested Moira's father
was an officer in the South Oxfordshire Regiment.
If you know who that was,
I'd like to hear it.
Why should I tell you people anything?
Another time, another place,
I could have had both of you shot.
Just like that, a snap of my fingers.
Well, that was then, this is now.
If you'd like to see a penny of your stepdaughter's inheritance,
you will cooperate with us fully.
Is that clear?
You've been with her long?
20-odd years.
Admirer of her husband, were you?
No man is a hero to his valet, sir.
It's a job, like anything else.
What was Moira like?
An unhappy girl.
She suffered terribly at boarding school.
Over her father.
That was here in Oxfordshire, funny enough.
There any talk about who her real father was?
Her "real" father?
I always took it to be Lord Bayswater, sir.
It's an awful thing.
I was very fond of her.
In my way.
What way was that, Mr. Barker?
One that knows its place and proper station, Chief Inspector.
But there was no love lost between her and her stepmother?
I'm afraid I couldn't speak to that, sir.
But you could speak
as to her whereabouts
on the afternoon following her appearance
at the Debating Society.
She was here, sir.
You can vouch for that?
I had some small errands to run in town for an hour or two,
but she was here when I left,
and upon my return.
Moira's grandfather was commanding officer
in the South Oxfordshire Regiment in the '30s.
Two of his favorites were regular houseguests here--
Mungo Coward and Johnny Champion.
Major Coward and Colonel Champion?
She thought it could be either of them.
Maybe the girl had heard the rumors
and took it upon herself
to confront the man she believed to be her father.
But which of them?
The regiment leaves for Germany this evening.
Now unless we can identify him,
Moira's killer, whoever it is, leaves with them.
I've been given to understand
that you and Major Coward were regular guests
at Colonel Proserpine's family estate,
where his daughter Eleanor was often staying.
I can imagine what this is about.
The question you're here to ask,
I can't answer, as I simply don't know.
You admit to a... closeness
with Moira Creighton-Ward's mother, then?
And you, Major?
Mungo was only ever a friend to Eleanor.
A good friend to her
and a brother officer to me.
But you knew about their relationship?
Eleanor was a wonderful girl.
We all know what Paddy Creighton-Ward was.
He took no pains
to hide his adultery with Charity Mudford.
No pains?
He was brazen about it.
All London knew what they were up to.
Yes but was he still sleeping with his wife?
It wasn't something we discussed.
We had our time,
and then Eleanor said
it might be best not to see each other again.
So she ended our relationship
Anyway, seven, eight months later,
I saw it in the papers.
"The Gift of a Daughter."
But did she make contact with you?
Moira? No.
So, you'd no idea
it was her when she came to the base?
No.
I suppose if she'd used her real name,
I might have thought something of it.
Moira, you see, is my mother's name.
Well, surely that was a sign
that she was your daughter.
It could have been.
But it could just as easily've
been Paddy Creighton-Ward's idea of a joke.
"Let him wonder."
I'll never know.
No surprises as to cause of death.
But the cartridge is unusual.
If you find anything like it on the base,
I'd be surprised.
Head stamp gives us date, lot number,
as well as the case metal code.
44.
1944 to be precise.
German military.
A K98 bayonet and a pistol, both used by the Wehrmacht.
Yes.
Souvenir, perhaps?
The spoils of war?
It wasn't unknown for soldiers
to relieve prisoners and the dead of their arms.
Mr. Barker, what can I do for you?
I didn't say anything when you came.
It seemed like a betrayal.
But she wrote to me.
Moira.
Had done since she was at boarding school.
That's the last.
Last few months, she's been happy.
She met someone.
I don't know if there's nothing more to it than...
hero worship, I suppose.
But he'd certainly made an impression on her.
Who had?
Marcus?
Marcus Williams?
Marcus X.
Is that right?
The X represents my true name,
my ancestral African name.
Well, since we're all on first name terms.
Fred, do you?
This is Morse.
Police?
We'd like to talk to you about Jean Ward.
What about her?
You were involved.
Politically?
Yes.
She was looking for a cause.
Something to believe in.
Something or someone?
Sometimes it's the same thing.
That's as far as it went.
Where were you
when Miss Ward was at the barracks?
Here, and later at a protest
outside a hair salon in East Cowley
that operates a color bar.
I have at least 20 witnesses can vouch for my movements.
You know a man called Farridge?
A photographer.
Yeah, I know him.
He does pictures.
Chronicles the struggle.
When did you see him last?
After Jean died.
He came by to tell me-- why?
Somebody shot him,
last night, up at High Wood.
Well, you...
you can't pin that one on me.
I was in a cell,
at Cowley police station until first thing.
Any idea why he went back up to the barracks?
Uh, he'd called
to say that one of you had arrested a brother for it.
Maybe he had other ideas.
And Jean?
Can you think of anyone who would wish her harm?
It wasn't easy for her, being her father's daughter.
But she'd put all that behind her.
Changed her name and started over.
Something you had in common.
She was a beautiful soul.
Had she lived, her future would have been as bright
as her past was... shadowed.
I'd have seen to it.
What do you make to him?
Could he be right about Farridge?
"The Convergence of the Twain."
He goes to find out what happened to Jean Ward
and gets more than he bargained for.
Happenstance, then?
Could Champion be lying?
Maybe Jean contacted him, told him she was coming.
It's hell of a leap from that
to killing someone you believe to be your own daughter.
It's unlikely, I'd've thought.
Double-check Williams' alibi
for the time of Jean's killing.
And take a run down to the hairdressers.
See if we can dig anything else up there.
I'll walk back to the nick,
see what Mr. Bright wants to do with Private Oswald.
Is this the man you saw leading the protest?
To tell you the truth, dear, I couldn't swear to it.
I'm sure their mothers can tell them apart,
but, uh,
don't ask me, dear, 'cause I'd be at a loss.
Well, thank you.
Oh, yes.
She's very popular.
The face that launched a thousand snips.
But I'm afraid she's spoken for,
if you had any designs of your own.
How do you mean?
I've a gentleman buys all the blow-ups of her
off me when I'm done.
None of the other girls, just her.
I must've let him have half a dozen
the last couple of years.
He just comes in every month or two,
and I put them by for him.
Takes all sorts, I suppose.
When it comes to men, dear, it doesn't do to judge.
What's his name?
I couldn't tell you, I'm afraid.
He wouldn't wear glasses by any chance?
I was hoping to find Dr. Laidlaw.
You and me both.
He must be up at the camp playing soldiers.
Have you got a permit for that?
I wouldn't have, would I?
Well, then put it down. It's not mine.
It's his.
He collects this crap.
Got all sorts.
Pistols, rifles,
swords, flags.
He'll buy anything, as long as it's Third Reich.
I mean, Jesus, look at this.
It's Kriegsmarine.
I mean!
But wait, that is nothing.
He showed me this last week.
SS.
He reckons it came out of the Führerbunker.
Got it with a couple of suicide pills.
Cyanide.
Kinky, eh?
He's your tutor?
When he bothers to turn up.
What do you know about him?
Beside his interest in Nazi regalia?
I mean is he married, single?
Yeah, he's married.
Some model, he says.
How's that?
Got a couple of kids together, place in North Oxford.
A model?
Yeah, fashion.
Clothes horse, jet set, apparently.
Why she never turns up to College do's,
though how a stiff like him
could keep hold of something like that...
He won't be coming in today.
He might.
He won't... go on, get out, before I run you in.
Take it easy.
You don't have to come over all heavy, man.
C.I.D., DS Strange.
Is he in?
He's in with Mr. Bright.
Trying to decide if we're charging Oswald.
Tell them not to bother.
He didn't do it, it's a frame up.
Who did then?
Today, as we take leave of this place,
we remember old comrades.
We remember their faces,
their names, and their sacrifice.
They were the regiment,
as you are now the regiment.
"The sand of the desert is sodden red,
"Red with the wreck of a square that broke,
"The Gatling's jammed and the Colonel's dead,
"And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.
"The river of death has brimmed his banks,
"And England's far, and Honour a name,
"...the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks.
"'Play up!
and play the game!"'
In our hearts,
we ever remember the South Oxfordshires motto.
Death before dishonor!
Give it up!
It's finished!
I would have given her the world.
That she could choose a man like that.
"Marcus X," a known criminal.
That's what you didn't like about him?
You could've chosen anyone,
but you chose to frame Private Oswald.
What does it matter?
They're all the same.
Bloody savages. Animals.
I saw him kissing her in the woods.
You saw her kissing him!
I know what I saw!
She was drugged up.
She didn't knew what she was doing half the time.
Did you see her belt him?
What?
She slapped him.
Same way I think she slapped you when you confronted her.
She knocked your specs off.
Moira. Oh, leave me alone.
You came... Get off me!
Hit you so hard it dislodged the screw from the arm.
You bodged it together with a running repair,
but if somebody found that screw,
it could tie you to Jean's murder.
You came up here last night looking to find it,
only you ran into Farridge.
Maybe he recognized you, so you killed him.
He deserved it.
He's part of that Marxist shower with Williams.
Well, he won't be pointing his camera at anyone else.
Persecuting people, ah!
Now, then, Mr. Laidlaw,
what's all this shooting?
Dr. Laidlaw.
Easy, Jack, easy.
Medics on their way.
They'll not take the regiment...
Do ye see them, Mungo?
All my bright boys.
I see them, Jack.
The Colors, man.
Look to the Colors.
Save the Colors.
Oh, my laddie.
My bonnie brave laddie.
Mustn't do it, Corp.
Off, then.
Uh-huh.
You did it.
It was done.
Dad...
Go and join your mates.
And make sure you write your mother.
Unless they changed King's Regs,
you don't salute NCOs.
I'm not.
Dismiss, son.
That's that, then, Colonel.
Parade's End.
Her regimental record unblemished.
Honor preserved, thanks to you and your men.
My boy'll be sorry to see it go.
Ah, it's just a name.
Names change.
That's true enough.
We began the year as City Police,
and we'll end it as Thames Valley.
It's people make something what it is,
not the name it's called by.
And as long as the Colors remain,
and there's one man left to see they don't fall to shame,
a regiment never truly dies.
Thank you.
Good-bye.
Over 20 years since I was on a barrack square.
Could've been yesterday.
Nothing changes, they all look the same,
Sound the same, smell the same.
"Today we have naming of parts.
"Yesterday we had daily cleaning.
"And tomorrow morning,
"we shall have what to do after firing.
"But today...
Today we have naming of parts."
What do you reckon to Laidlaw, then?
I think he couldn't let her go.
Yeah.
That'll do it, every time.
How's your head?
Ringing.
If you will get yourself shot at.
You did all right.
Knew you would.
Do you want to drive?
Come on, then.