(EERIE MUSIC)
(EVOCATIVE MUSIC)
(EERIE NOISES WITH TYPEWRITER KEYS CLACKING)
(WIND AND WAVES)
(EERIE MUSIC)
(BOAT CREAKS, EXPLOSIONS)
(EXPLOSION)
(BOAT CREAKS)
(EXPLOSION)
(EVOCATIVE MUSIC)
(BUILDING SWOOSH)
(EXPLOSION, MEN YELL)
(MEN YELL)
(GROANS)
(EXPLOSIONS, MEN YELL, GUNFIRE)
(COMPOSITE OF NOISES)
MAN WHISPERS: Quick! Light it. Quick. Come on.
MAN: Tommy!
(FLAME ROARS)
(GLASS SMASHES)
Oh! (FIRE ROARS) Oh, hey!
(MAN PANTS, FOOTSTEPS RESOUND ON PAVEMENT)
(GOATS BLEAT)
(MEN YELL AND CHANT)
MEN CHANT: Ballarat! Ballarat! Ballarat!
(CHEERING, FIRE ROARS, GLASS SMASHES)
MAN: Taking advantage of us Aussies!
(MEN WHOOP)
Yeah, come on. Get out! Fuckin' Egyptians!
(ALL YELL)
(MEN YELL AND ARGUE)
Bazley!
(GROANS) Sir?
This was the quickest way to the hotel. I didn't know.
I saw our boys were in trouble.
In trouble or start the trouble?
I didn't see, sir.
(MEN YELL, FIRE ROARS)
Stay here and don't move.
(MEN SQUABBLE) Hey, gyp heads!
Evening, fellas.
Sir, you wanna drink?
No, thank you. What happened here, boys?
Well, I, I might be wrong, but it looks like a big fuckin' fire.
It is a big fuckin' fire! (LAUGHS)
(MEN SQUABBLE)
Get your hands off!
(MEN YELL) You'll be in jail...
Sir? Get back to the hotel right now.
MAN: We own this place, gyp. Clear out, Bazley!
(MEN SQUABBLE AND GROAN)
MEN CHANT: Ballarat! Ballarat! Ballarat!
MAN: Sit down, gyp. Ballarat! Ballarat!
(ISLAMIC CALL TO PRAYER)
(KNOCK ON DOOR)
(ISLAMIC CALL TO PRAYER)
General Bridges.
Bean, is it?
Yes, sir.
Charles Bean.
Can I get you some tea?
My man here got some fresh cow's milk and I'd be...
You've got a nice view.
Oh.
Would you like to change rooms? I...
No, no. Open the window, it all smells the same.
Cairo is a putrid dump.
I want to get you working, Bean.
Course, sir.
We've got a few of the fellas getting in trouble over here.
Behaving like this is some sort of paid holiday.
We need to send a strong message home
to anyone thinking about joining up.
A warning
that bad behaviour will not be tolerated in the Australian Army.
Will you write that up for us?
The reputation we're getting amongst the British here is, is worrying.
We need men joining up, but we need the right sort of men.
Sir, I wonder if you were aware of my request
to travel with the Australian troops when they are shipped out?
Write the article. We'll see how it goes.
Well, I would like to travel with the Australians, sir.
(ISLAMIC CALL TO PRAYER)
(WHISPERS) Can you ask the fat one to stand up nice and still.
In front of the rubbish.
(SPEAKS IN NATIVE TONGUE)
She's very sad. She's lost her house.
Her best friend was badly burned.
(COINS JINGLE)
(WHISPERS) Nice and still, like a statue.
(SPEAKS IN NATIVE TONGUE)
(WHISPERS) Perfect.
(CAMERA WHIRS)
(CAMELS GRUNT)
(GROANS)
(FLUID FLOWS) Phew!
So tell me, how's your father? Hmm?
Yeah, he's very well, General Hamilton.
Good. He sends his regards.
Ah, good, good.
(EXHALES) So, what do you make of our Cairo, eh?
Oh, there's no decent beer and it stinks.
(LAUGHS) I love it.
Oh, ho, yes, and I bet you've explored every inch of it, eh?
I'm doing my best, sir. (GRUNTS)
(SNIFFS) Now, we've received our final orders late last night.
(WHISPERS) Where we going?
Dardanelles. Do you know it?
Churchill's plan to end the war.
The west coast of Turkey.
Now, the navy have softened up the Turks by hitting these straits,
which have allowed us to get some excellent maps and reconnaissance
of the area.
Now, we'll land here, make our way straight to Constantinople.
Our attack will weaken the German presence on the Western Front,
allowing our chaps to force the issue,
putting an end to the war before summer.
Gallipoli.
Means 'beautiful city' in ancient Greek.
(SNIFFS) Ha!
There's not much beauty or city there now,
nor will there be, by the time we're done with it.
(GRUNTS THEN SNIFFS)
So! (SNIFFS) Speak!
I promised your father I'd do what I could to help, so tell me.
The Australian government sent one official journalist
to be the reporter here in Cairo.
It wasn't me.
Ah.
So I got here under my own steam, but I want to get to the front.
I wanna go with the fellas.
Now I have my camera.
The papers back home, they're gonna need pictures.
So I'm pretty sure they're going to get sick of seeing
pyramids and camel dung.
Oh, boat's your best bet, and the most direct.
What boat, sir? Any boat you like.
The Aegean's full of them.
Fishing boats, onion boats, mail boats.
So, tell me.
Who is your colonial correspondent?
Er, Charles Bean, sir.
He, ah... He's a good man.
He's odd, but he, he's... very experienced.
He's sober. He's very...dedicated.
(SCOFFS) Sounds a riot. (LAUGHS)
Mind you, he can't be worse than the laggard British HQ have appointed.
Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett. Do you know him?
No, but, ah, I know his work.
Then I can tell you he's more irritating than a dose of the clap.
(WOMAN PANTS)
(WOMAN AND MAN PANT AND LAUGH)
(BOTH GROAN PLEASURABLY)
(SIGHS) Don't go.
Why don't you write about the war from London?
(CHUCKLES)
Why don't you cut your hair off, change your name and come with me?
(LAUGHS)
You could be my efficient yet very effete assistant.
Oh, you boys have all the fun.
Oh yes? I'm not so sure. (GIGGLES)
(CHURCH BELLS TOLL)
Here. Mm.
(EXHALES)
All right, I've got to go.
Really? Hmm.
I can call for some wine.
(LAUGHS) Well, wives do dinner at 5:30.
(DOOR CREAKS OPEN, SLAMS SHUT)
(KNOCK ON DOOR)
Ash!
No one can see me here. Ignore it.
(POUNDING ON DOOR)
MAN: Bartlett!
I know you're there, and I have a key!
Now get decent. I'm coming in. (STUBS OUT CIGARETTE)
Shit.
(GROANS)
Bartlett, if my husband or family get wind...
Don't, don't call me 'Bartlett'.
Only men call me Bartlett.
(KNOCK ON DOOR)
Bathroom. I'll get rid of him.
(DOOR CREAKS, ELEVATOR PINGS)
(GROANS) Bartlett, put it away.
The manager of this establishment
has furnished me with these accounts.
Take them.
Lester, you know I can't pay them. We had an arrangement.
Now I agreed to help you cover some costs until we reached the front,
but champagne - two bottles, brandy - one bottle,
breakfast for five.
It was actually quite a funny story.
Anyway, that's not why I'm here.
Mother isn't well.
Oh, Lester...
And I'm not sure I can justify the expense, nor the time away.
Now, Lawrence - Let me finish.
(SIGHS)
I've decided against taking the Reuters job.
I will see out the war from Fleet Street.
You can pay me what you owe me when you can.
It's not about that at all.
Do you have anything to drink up here?
(METALLIC CLUNK)
There's someone in your closet, man!
It, um...
Ah.
Oh.
Let us continue this discussion at your club.
But I have made up my mind.
I understand.
(RECEDING FOOTSTEPS)
(TENOR SINGS ARIA)
All right. All right, man, sit down there.
(GROANS)
I say, old man, steady on. This is my club.
Oh yes, your dodgy eyes.
(GROANS) Beg my pardon.
Pull up your stupid pants before you get us arrested.
I want to show you something, Lawrence, so behave yourself.
This?
This was from the Sino-Russian War.
The shrapnel from a grenade.
I can't tell you how useful this has been, Lawrence, eh?
Women melt like warm honey when they, when they get a look at that.
(LAUGHS) War wounds are currency.
Very impressive. Now pull your pants up, man.
Lester,
this, this job out of Alexandria is a naval job.
(SNIFFS) Believe me,
there is nothing more magnificent
than experiencing a battle from the deck of a Royal British warship.
It's like, it's like... a box seat at the opera.
I don't know. Hmm.
Bartlett, my eyesight's shot.
I'm not exactly built for speed.
And quite frankly,
that wound of yours looks like it must have hurt quite a bit.
Well, that's why they invited morphine. And nurses.
You only have to be fit enough
to walk from deck to bar to dining room.
Deck, bar, dining room.
But my poor mother...
Well, you know you can write her letters.
(SNIFFS) Twice a day.
(CHUCKLES) She'll be thrilled.
Lester, as fond as I am of your mother, it's you that concerns me.
Ponder this.
(SIGHS) How many red-hot, bona fide adventures
do you think there are left in you?
Officially, we're still young,
there's a war on, in Europe, and Britain is playing a leading role.
How can we not go?
Of course you're right.
Of course you are.
(TITTERS) Why be afraid?
(SLAPS LEGS) We will have an adventure.
(DRUMMING MUSIC)
(TENSE MUSIC)
Prepare to advance.
Name?
(SIGHS) Philip Schuler.
What's yours? Nurse.
Why aren't you in uniform?
I'm press.
Then you don't need to be cleared for service.
Well, we can't be too careful, doc.
(SIGHS) All clear.
Next.
Name?
Jimmy. Ah, James Paradise.
We're conducting what's known as the 'short arm' test.
Please, step right in and drop your pants, son.
In...front of the girl?
(WHISPERS) That's not a girl. That's a nurse.
You're free to go, Mr Schuler.
Is it all right if he, um, is it all right if he stays?
(SCOFFS)
(GRUNTS) How old are you, son?
18, sir.
All clear.
Pants up.
Next.
Take this and report back to your division.
(PAPER SHUFFLES)
Take care. Yeah, righto.
Goodbye, nurse.
Goodbye, press.
(CROWD HUBBUB) Could I have your attention, please?
(LOUD VOICES DROP TO MURMURS) I'm Captain Frank Elliot.
Now, you are here because you have received a red card.
You have received a red card
because you have been diagnosed with a venereal disease.
(MEN CHAT LOUDLY)
Quiet, please.
I'm afraid that this is not good news.
From this hospital,
you'll go back to camp where you will collect your belongings.
You'll be on board the 3pm train to Alexandria.
From there, you will return home to Australia by boat.
(ANGRY YELLING)
Pipe down!
(SHOUTS) Pipe down! (YELLING CONTINUES)
Pipe down, lads!
(GUNSHOT)
(SILENCE)
Now contracting a venereal disease is a dischargeable offence.
That's why you're being sent home.
I strongly advise you all to seek medical attention promptly
upon your return to Australia,
particularly the married men.
(CROWD HUBBUB)
An unfortunate minority...
of rowdies are tarnishing our young nation's reputation...
with their disorderly conduct and excessive drinking.
(ELEGANT CLASSICAL MUSIC)
How'd you get us in here?
The Churchills owe me all kinds of favours.
Now where is he?
Let's take a quick lap around the yard.
Can't be that hard to find a prince.
Thank you.
(MEN AND WOMEN CHAT)
(WHISPERS) Don't forget to introduce me.
You forget me sometimes. It's quite embarrassing.
Never.
Bartlett.
Jack.
Ah, Lester Lawrence, may I present Mr and Mrs Jack Churchill.
Churchills, meet my colleague, esteemed journalist
and soon to be distinguished war correspondent, Mr Lester Lawrence.
How do you do? Pleased to meet you.
How do you do?
Yes, I'm off myself at the end of the week.
Aide to Ian Hamilton.
Alexandria, I believe. Ah.
Winston has him spying -
I beg your pardon - working in Sir Ian's office.
Er, Jack's brother is Winston Churchill, Lord of the Admiralty,
who cooked up this grand Dardanelles plan.
It's a brilliant bit of strategy.
Indeed?
Word is the Turks are a shabby army.
Poorly trained, under-resourced and quite cowardly.
Our navy's been pulverising the coast.
They'll be in complete disarray.
Quite.
Well, to swift victory.
Swift victory.
Er, we have to go.
We have an appointment.
See you on ship.
That man is a major cock.
Yes, indeed he is.
I think we should split up.
There's a couple of rooms downstairs off the main hall.
A snooker room and some kind of sitting room.
He may be there.
What if I find him? He doesn't know me from Adam.
Well, just come and get me.
I'll do a last sweep of the garden and I'll meet you in the house.
And...stop drinking.
You won't be able to stand up, let alone talk.
(MEN LAUGH LOUDLY)
MAN: Absolutely brilliant!
Mr Bartlett.
Prince Sebaeddin! (LAUGHS)
An honour.
I didn't know you were in London.
I, er, have some business.
Ah.
I believe we're about to fight on opposite sides.
It's true.
Turkey has signed an alliance with Germany.
Would you be covering the campaign?
Yes, we depart very soon.
For...
Paris, then Alexandria.
And after that, I'm at His Majesty's service.
But, um...
(LOWERS VOICE) ..if we're to believe these officers,
I should ask you to recommend a good hotel in Constantinople.
(LAUGHS)
My old friend, Constantinople hasn't been conquered in 800 years.
I'm a mere writer, sir.
Bon chance.
But perhaps next war, we will be standing side by side again.
Inshallah.
Oh, I'm going through Paris
and I thought I might make a visit to the Turkish Embassy.
Is, ah, Volka Barim still the ambassador there?
He is.
(MEN LAUGH IN BACKGROUND)
He's a Scotch drinker.
Single malt, and as expensive as you can afford.
Ah-ha. He knows his distilleries.
(BARTLETT SLAPS THE PRINCE'S HAND)
Good luck, sir.
(MEN CHAT IN DIFFERENT LANGUAGES, VEHICLES SPLUTTER)
(METALLIC CLANG, MAN LAUGHS)
(CROWD HUBBUB)
(CAMEL GRUNTS)
(CROWD HUBBUB)
(SILENCE)
Bean!
Over here.
Good morning.
Your article's been published.
Caused quite a stir.
Looks like they've printed it in full.
(CROCKERY AND CUTLERY CLINK)
You put the cat amongst the pigeons with that article, Bean.
(SCOFFS) Really?
Some of the men will be upset with it.
I'd lay low for a few days, until it dies down.
(PAPER CRUMPLES)
No, the only people who need to take offence
are the...idiots who are guilty.
And hopefully this article shames them into changing their ways.
Yeah. Good luck with that.
(GRUNTS)
They'll have more to think about soon anyway.
They're shipping out next week. And you were right.
They're going to the Dardanelles.
We'll be, er, all getting drunk in Constantinople come June.
Yeah, I was hoping it'd be France.
Probably the last chance I get to see proper Europe.
Now, sir, this puts my application for accreditation
to travel with the troops into a far more...
Mm. ..urgent situation.
Charles here beat every other journalist to get to his position.
I ah, I heard that they were spitting chips when they lost.
May...yes, that, that's right.
And I'm the only Australian war corres...
You never been to France?
No. Have you?
Yeah. Yeah, many times.
Yeah, Paris can't be beaten,
but I'm looking forward to Constantinople.
Ah, excuse me, sir, our transport is here.
And how are you planning
on travelling out with the troops, Phillip?
Well... You have no official position here.
I've met a man
whose family runs some boats around the islands of Alexandria.
Where are you going?
A tour of the Mena Camp and pyramids.
(CLEARS THROAT) But you won't be allowed on board the naval ships.
Yeah, well, I'll sort something out.
(CHAIR SCRAPES)
Just give me two shakes, I'll get my camera.
Schuler. Sir...
I wrote the article and hope it will be effective.
Good job.
So, my request...
It's been decided that you'll stay in Cairo
with the other colonial correspondents.
You'll write your articles from here.
Sir, that's...
Count yourself lucky, Bean.
There's a lot more to see in Cairo
than the arse-end of a Turkish scrub.
Good luck. Yes.
ALL SING:
Ba-da-da, boom de yay Ba-da-da, boom de yay...
(MEN LAUGH)
Here and, ah...
there.
Hello.
This is Vera Grant. Phillip Schuler.
Phillip was telling me you found a...you found a man with a boat?
We've met.
I've seen quite a bit of Mr Schuler, actually.
And it's Phillip. Er, 'Mr Schuler' is my father.
Ah, a boat?
Yes. Yes.
I'm, ah, I'm sailing to Turkey on a steamer
that's carrying olive oil, spices, rot-gut red wine and yours truly.
If you wanted to be here so badly, why didn't you just enlist?
You don't look like you're flat-footed.
I wanted to enlist, but my father asked me not to.
He said he'd pay for my passage as a photographer,
which is great for him, because my father is the editor of 'The Age'.
Well, lah-di-dah.
(LAUGHS)
You got a problem with newspapers? No.
No, I think they're terrific.
You know, for wrapping chips
and broken china and cleaning windows.
I think every home should have one.
(LAUGHS)
That's exactly what my dad says. (LAUGHS)
(SNORTS)
(LAUGHS)
(SOBS) Hello.
What's happened here, fellas?
Ray's just been told he can't go.
(SNIFFS)
Here, use it.
(SNIFFS) Doc says I'm sick.
He's gonna send me home.
(GASPS) I'm not. I'm fine.
I'm fine!
It's just a little cold, serious. Serious.
All I need is a bit of sunshine and I'll be good as gold.
We came together from Fremantle.
We're like the Three Musketeers.
You can't break us up.
He's as strong as an ox, sir.
Plays footy, cricket, swims, everything.
He's just got the sniffles.
(RAY SOBS)
(SNIFFS)
(PAPER RUSTLES) (GROANS)
(CHUCKLES THEN SWALLOWS) Thanks, doc.
(CHUCKLES) You won't regret it.
Make sure I don't.
Off you go. Ray. Ah...
Oh, sorry.
Hey! Yes! (MEN LAUGH) Beauty. You bloody ripper!
Those sniffles are pretty close to pneumonia.
Still, he's young and strong.
You busy? I am.
I've been traipsing all over Cairo today
trying to track down General Bridges...
Charles, I meant - would you like to get a beer?
(BOTH LAUGH)
(PIANO FLOURISH)
BOTH SING: For Champagne Charlie is my name
Champagne Charlie is my name...
You look like you're waiting for a bus, Charles.
No, I'm just here to sort out some last-minute arrangements
with Bridges.
So the Brits are gonna let you go?
Well I s'pose it wouldn't be so bad, spending some time here in Cairo.
There's plenty to see and do.
You like the history.
I'm not here to take postcard pictures and walk up pyramids.
I've got a job to do.
Look, I'm sorry, Phillip,
but I just know that writing second-hand reports
from third-rate British clerks
is not the way to go about getting a good story.
They won't be looking.
(SIGHS) They won't be looking at us.
(JAUNTY PIANO MUSIC)
Shivers!
(GLASSES CLINK) Bridges.
He's leaving.
MEN SING OFF-KEY: Champagne Charlie is my name...
Go on, get him.
G...General! General Bridges?
You don't give up, do you, Bean? Well, no.
You see, I have a telegram from General Birdwood, sir.
It's to British HQ requesting I be allowed to travel with you.
Now all I need is your signature and approval so I can send it.
Tell me why you wouldn't be better off here in Cairo.
Well, I can't do my job properly from here.
Of course you could.
No, you see, the article you asked me to write,
it's just been published in every major newspaper in Australia.
Now everyone is talking about it.
Exactly.
Good job. No.
It upset some people and it had an impact.
It had an impact, because it wasn't about the British soldiers
and it wasn't about a war a million miles away.
It was about people we know.
Love them or hate them, it was about us.
You'll get in the way, Bean.
Probably get your bloody head blown off to boot.
No, I won't get in the way, sir,
and I take full responsibility for my head.
If I'm with you on the ground with the men, I can get our story told.
And if I'm not there with you,
how will anyone at home know the truth of it?
(TENSE MUSIC)
Alright.
But you'll have to wait till morning.
My clerk, George Fowler, has all the codes for the telegram.
(HANDS CLASP)
And don't miss that bloody train.
(POIGNANT MUSIC)
(RETCHES)
(POIGNANT MUSIC)
(BOAT CREAKS)
Fellas.
My, ah, friend here wants to know if he can still use his mooring.
Who the hell are you? Huh?
Who the hell are you?
I'm Phillip Schuler.
I'll ask again
and this time, you'd better be able to show me some identification.
Who the fuck are you?
(LAWRENCE PANTS)
Come on, Lester. 20 more steps.
Right behind you, Bartlett.
(POIGNANT MUSIC)
Well, well.
My goodness.
Well, fuck.
The greatest armada of warships and transports ever assembled.
Ever in the history of the world.
(POIGNANT MUSIC)
Ever.
Thank you, Ash.
Thank you for being such a... fine friend.
For pushing me to come.
Extraordinary.
It's fucking extraordinary.
(BOTH LAUGH) Yes.
(LAUGHS) Yes, you're right.
Fucking.
(HORN BLOWS)
(TYPEWRITER NOISES)
Jack!
Looking very important there.
Welcome.
Sir Ian will be with you shortly.
Have you two met Mr Charles Bean,
from the Australian press?
No.
Pleased to meet you, Bean.
Ashmead-Bartlett.
And this is Lester Lawrence, covering Reuters and the provincials.
Well, a real-life colonial.
Half expect you to hit me or offer me a drink.
Or both.
It's a pleasure to meet you both, I'm sure.
And indeed, once the Gallipoli peninsula is secured,
we will move north towards the capital,
securing the path for the navy to drive up the straits.
Questions? Where did you get your maps?
Lawrence and I stopped in at the Turkish Embassy in Paris
on our way up.
I'm friendly with the consul-general there
and got hold of one of their maps of the peninsula.
It's quite different in the terrain.
What is that?
Oh... (CHUCKLES) ..I did a bit of a hatchet job on the translations,
but one of your chaps would finish up my job.
(SCOFFS) The Turkish Embassy?
(GRUNTS) Thank you, Bartlett.
If we need another map, we know where to find you.
Right.
Gentlemen, from today
you are to be the eyes and the ears of the British Armed Forces.
There is no room for personal opinion.
There will be no deviation from the facts
as delivered to you in regular briefings.
Any articles, papers, letters,
both private and public sent from this theatre of war,
will pass through our censor's office.
We have here a contract for you to sign.
Any breaches will result in instant dismissal
and probable court martial.
And where is the telegraph office?
It will be here on the 'Arcadian' for the time being.
Will we have total access to the telegraph office,
regardless of the time of day?
Within reason.
Ah, do we have a date for the landing?
We will let you know in good time.
Oh, and will we have access to our own launch or pinnace?
(LAUGHS) Not really a priority at the moment.
You will soon realise that our Mr Bartlett is a relentless questioner.
And why do you say that, sir?
Well, now. (CHUCKLES)
All right, well, we look forward to some rousing reports
of our chaps' bravery and adventures
to keep the home fires burning and the recruitment lines full.
(CLEARS THROAT) Excuse me.
Yes, ah, Charles Bean.
The only member of the Australian press represented here.
I was given this position by an official ballot of my peers.
A ballot?
Now, I wanted to request to be on board... A ballot?
..the ship with the Australian 2nd Infantry.
Now you see, I've travelled with them...
You can talk to one of the clerks about that.
Oh, perhaps you could clarify.
I understand we will be assigned to different ships
as there will be more than one landing...
That will be all, gentleman.
As I said, see the clerk.
BARTLETT: Wonderful ship.
Very elegant.
She was a passenger liner before the war.
This was the officers' dining room, I believe...
We found him wandering the wharf, sir.
No official paperwork.
Claims to know you.
(SNIGGERS) Yes, yes, I can vouch for him.
Phillip, what on earth have you got there?
It's an octopus.
Apparently you can eat it.
Bean, you made it.
Yes, it's good to see you, Phillip.
(LAUGHS) Well, come along, Phillip.
Join us for lunch, and bring your foreign fish with you.
It'll scare my staff half to death. (LAUGHS)
Ashmead-Bartlett.
Yes, you are.
It's an honour.
(CHUCKLES) Yeah. The trick to octopus is, ah, plenty of lemon juice.
Where are you staying?
Staying with a Greek fisherman on Lemnos.
MEN SING: Washing in the water as you wash your dirty...
(GOAT BLEATS)
(GOATS BLEAT) MEN SING: ..on the wall, on the wall
On the wall, on the wall On the wall
Oh, washing in the water as you wash your dirty...
(SOLDIERS SING)
(PANTS)
You right?
(GASPS) All right. All right.
Ha. All right. Ha.
You do this every day? Yes.
(GASPS) Ah, thank you.
(GASPS AND PANTS) Fucking Braithwaite.
(GULPS) Fucking Hamilton.
(EXHALES) Fucking clerks.
(GROANS)
No offence, Bean, but they gave me the colonials to cover as a slight,
as a deliberate insult.
(GASPS) There's no other way to interpret it.
(INHALES) You know,
imagine if they'd given you,
ah... (PANTS) ..I don't know...
(COUGHS) ..the Eskimos or the fucking Canadians.
(LAUGHS)
Can...can you walk?
Yes, of course I can walk.
(PANTS)
(GASPS)
You know, you could simply ask the men what they do on these runs.
Well, well, apart from the fact
that I have always enjoyed a long run in the morning,
I'm afraid that my colonial brothers won't talk to me at the moment.
Oh. Something you said?
Something, something I wrote. Yeah.
Here he is again.
Follows you around like a bad smell.
Right, pipe down, Percy.
Right, we're going to scale this cliff-face to the top.
Not while the snitch is watching, sir.
Fuck knows what he'll write about now.
That's enough, Charlie.
That's an officer you're talking to.
You'll be lucky if you're not carrying two packs up there.
Now this is the kind of terrain we'll be facing in battle.
I'd give it a crack if I thought there was a beer at the top, sir.
Honestly, I'm rooted.
Right, let's push on.
Make divots with your boots.
You go divot away, sir. I need a piss.
(LAUGHTER) I'm having a smoke.
That's extraordinary.
(PANTS) An English soldier would be shot on the spot.
We're a young nation, Mr Bartlett, and these men are volunteers.
(SIGHS) It's not a criticism, Charles.
It's just an observation.
How many of you here?
MAN: Hurry up, will ya?
BEAN: 15,405.
That include, ah, medical staff?
No, that's the battalions, units and, ah, senior officers.
We have 180 doctors, 75 nurses and eight matrons.
Now interestingly, all the matrons are from Melbourne.
I say, you have a head for numbers, Bean.
I do.
Or I could have just made all that up.
(GULPS THEN LAUGHS)
(LAUGHS)
(HORNS BLOW)
(BELLS CHIME)
OK, everyone, nice and still now, please.
OK, can we just lose the holiday grins?
Ah, you, you're meant to be mortally wounded in battle,
so, ah, sombre up.
This is tragic.
You need to get in the photo.
I'm afraid I can't stand still.
Doctor's orders.
OK, everyone, nice and still now, please.
Wipe the smile.
Think.
(WHISPERS) Horror.
One, two, three.
(SHIPS GROAN, WATER SWIRLS)
(SHIPS GROAN)
Captain All right. Blankets, boys.
The first wave will go before dawn.
We're in the second wave.
SOLDIER: It's not too cold, sir.
It'll get cold later on.
Listen up.
You'll get a 3am hot breakfast.
You mightn't feel like it, but try to eat as much as you can.
Yes, sir. Thank you.
MAN: Where are you from?
London.
Oh. You're the other scribbler.
(SIGHS) Yes, I'm a journalist.
(GROANS) I was assigned to write about the colonials.
(SIGHS)
What are you going to write about?
The campaign.
You have family at home, want to know all about you.
And they'll read about you in the newspaper.
We don't want our wives and families worrying about us.
I know, of course.
So you'll make it up, you know, if you have to.
I... I sincerely hope I won't have to.
We'll sort it out.
I'll buy you a beer in Conny.
(CHUCKLES) I look forward to it.
Good luck tomorrow.
(SINGS) She stepped away from me
As I rode through the fair
I slowly watched her
Move here and move here
And she made her way homeward
With one star awake
As the swan in the evening
Moved over the lake.
(POIGNANT MUSIC)
(SIGHS)
(OMINOUS RUMBLING)
(POIGNANT MUSIC)
(EXPLOSION)
(EXPLOSIONS)
CAPTAIN: Now this is important.
Don't waste water. (EXPLOSION)
Take only sips, and only take them when you're very thirsty.
The same goes for your food.
Never throw away even a bite of a biscuit.
And lastly,
you must all be very sparing with your ammunition.
(POIGNANT MUSIC)
When you see your enemy right in front of you,
then you pump as much as possible into him.
But only then, you understand me?
You understand me?
ALL: Yes, sir.
(EXPLOSIONS)
All right.
Now I have every confidence
that you will all do everything that is required of you, and more.
(EXPLOSION, SHIP SHUDDERS)
So good luck, boys.
(GUNFIRE)
Now go to your muster stations
and await orders from your section commanders.
(GUNFIRE)
(DOOR CREAKS OPEN)
Phillip. Wake up.
Your war is starting.
(GROANS)
(EXPLOSIONS)
Michaelis, I will pay you £20 if you take me out there right now.
£20, man!
No, the English will take my boat and they shoot us!
(GROANS)
(WIND HOWLS, BOAT CREAKS, ENGINE SPLUTTERS)
(GUNFIRE)
(POIGNANT MUSIC)
(ENGINE SPLUTTERS)
(POIGNANT MUSIC, EXPLOSIONS)
Now you wait for my word before you move a freaking muscle.
You'll fucking flip her.
(WATER SLOSHES)
(RUMBLING EXPLOSIONS)
(PENSIVE MUSIC)
(EXPLOSION)
(GUNFIRE)
(MEN YELL)
(PENSIVE MUSIC)
(GUNFIRE) (GROANS)
(MEN YELL)
(PENSIVE MUSIC)
(EXPLOSION RESOUNDS)
(GUNFIRE)
(EERIE RESOUNDING NOISES)
(GASPS)
(GUNFIRE)
(SCREAMS)
Get the fuck out of here! Go! Go!
(MEN SCREAM)
Charlie! Charlie, look out!
Jesus!
(MAN GROANS)
(GROANS)
(SCREAMS)
(MEN SCREAM AND GROAN, EXPLOSION RESOUNDS)
(PENSIVE MUSIC)
(BIRDS CHIRP)
Come on, fellas, you look like a mob of girls.
Imagine you're about to slice up those Turks.
Ah...
look into the eyes of your enemy and...
Come on, Sherlock!
War faces, and all that.
Bloody hell, it's hot. (MEN CHUCKLE)
Thank you!
Right, last one in the water's a New Zealander.
(MEN GROAN) Come on, boys!
You silly goose! You're on!
(MEN CHAT, WHOOP AND LAUGH)
I'll get ya!
Look out! (LAUGHTER)
Oh, shit!
(PENSIVE MUSIC)
DISTANT VOICE: Can you help me? Over here.
Bean.
(EXPLOSIONS)
Good timing.
(HORSE WHINNIES)
They told me you were here.
'They'? Birdwood.
He had me deliver a message to Hamilton last night.
Hmm. What'd it say?
Oh, something along the lines of the landing being a fiasco
and we should all re-embark at once.
(MEN TALK)
And Hamilton's reply?
He told them to dig in.
(EXPLOSION)
(MEN TALK, BOMBS WHISTLE)
How'd your boys go up there?
They were glorious. Fearless.
Unfortunately, so were the enemy.
Is that so?
I had officers on deck
regaling me with the stories of Turks screaming and howling in fear.
I saw none of that.
What did you see?
(EXPLOSION)
May I?
You should...try scaling those cliffs, Mr Bartlett.
The sandstone and shrubbery make it near impossible.
(EXPLOSION)
They managed?
Some of them got rid of their packs
and charged the magazines of their rifles and went up without firing.
(EXPLOSIONS)
Where did you get these details?
Your view of the landing was no better than mine.
(SCOFFS) Am I ready to send?
The, ah, continued goodwill towards me in several London eateries
depends on my getting paid.
Ah.
Well, there are alterations to be made.
So make them.
I suppose there's no glory
in being the second man to write about a landing now, is there, hmm?
(DISTANT EXPLOSIONS)
There'll be no mention of names,
nor any exact recording of the amounts of ground lost or gained.
Is that all? For now.
(TELEGRAPH BEEPS)
That's urgent. According to whom?
My editor, at 'The Times'.
(TITTERS)
Has Lawrence filed a story yet?
How about the colonial?
Charles Bean.
(TYPEWRITER CLACKS, DISTANT EXPLOSIONS)
I want you to go out and speak to the men for me.
There's been a new Battalion that's just come back from the trenches,
and I need to know what's been going on.
They still, ah, giving you the silent treatment, sir?
Not always.
Occasionally they go out of their way to insult me.
(TYPEWRITER KEYS CLICK)
Maybe you should try winning them over with a joke.
People like jokes. Really.
(GUNFIRE)
Do you know any? Oh, I know plenty, sir.
What are you after? Clean or dirty?
I'm not sure. What's more popular?
Well, the dirtier the better, sir.
Did you hear the one about the man
who couldn't tell the difference between Vaseline and putty?
His windows fell out.
Get that off as quick as you can.
(EXPLOSIONS)
(SHIP CREAKS)
Hmm. These will be most beneficial in garnering support back home.
After all, a picture tells a thousand words.
Hmm.
I was wondering, ah,
when I would receive permission to get to the cove, sir?
All in due course, Phillip.
I promise to get you there before it's all over.
(SIGHS)
Have you seen the hospital ships?
Not as yet, no. No.
I was hoping to do a story on them.
The nurses, doctors, the challenges they face.
Well, that's a navy matter.
Why ask me? Hmm?
Honestly? Mm-hmm.
I figured you might be the one to say yes.
(LAUGHS) Well, you're right, I am.
I take great delight
in ruffling the admiralty's feathers whenever possible. (CHUCKLES)
From a distance, it seems that we're hemmed in on the cove.
15,000 men won't be hemmed in for long, I assure you.
What if 15,000 remain?
What makes you say that?
Well, from the island, I see the pinnaces coming and going
and they're all...almost full.
Well, there've been casualties, of course,
but Hunter-Western informs me
that a strong push tomorrow will bring with it rewards.
Hmm.
That's good to hear.
(POIGNANT MUSIC)
"Australians' glorious entry into war,
by the official war correspondent for the British press,
Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett."
And here he says the Australians, though shot to bits,
cheered throughout the night.
I heard no sounds of cheering, Baz. Did you?
BAZLEY: No, sir. No.
Look here.
"Colonials..." (SIGHS)
"..got rid of their packs and charged the magazines of their rifles.
Then this race of athletes proceeded to scale the cliffs
and didn't respond to enemy fire."
(SIGHS) He wrote what I saw.
He saw your notebook, sir.
Yes.
More fool me.
(CRUMPLES PAPER)
I got some bread for lunch... I'm not hungry.
Captain Elliot!
I heard you were to leave the cove, Captain.
So it would seem.
We're heading south to Krithia, to assist the British.
Mind if I join you?
Scared we'll sully the country's reputation, Captain?
That might not be the best idea, Bean.
Well, with all due respect, I don't need your permission.
I was merely being polite.
Well, you best hurry, then.
We leave in 15 minutes.
SOLDIER: Captain Bean.
Baked Bean.
(ALL SING) Ah, you're drunk You're drunk, you silly old fool
Still you can not see
That's a baby boy me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more...
Oi!
But a baby boy with his whiskers on sure I never saw before
As I went home on Saturday night as drunk as drunk could be...
Ah, Charlie!
Who owns that dong inside her
It's right where my old dong should be
Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk You silly old fool
Still you cannot see
That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But hair on a tin whistle, sure...
(CHICKENS CLUCK, GOATS BLEAT)
(WOOD CREAKS, SINGING MEN JUST AUDIBLE)
(CHICKEN CLUCKS LOUDLY)
(GUN COCKS)
Oh, don't shoot.
(FARMER SPEAKS NATIVE LANGUAGE) Don't shoot.
You, you're hurt?
SOLDIER: Sir!
Help...help you.
CAPTAIN: Bean, where are you?
Probably reporting on our singing!
Yeah, I'm...I'm coming.
We're leaving, Bean.
We're leaving, sir.
Sir?
Yardim. Yardim, yardim, yardim.
Morphine.
Yardim.
(TENSE MUSIC)
(SIGHS)
Rightio.
Any lads here who aren't married or have no children, raise your hands.
Let's move out in an extended line.
What do you think you're doing, Bean?
I'm yet to wed, Frank.
You're a journalist.
Nevertheless, I'd like to go.
Take my rifle, Bean.
No. Thank you, Terry. Best you keep it.
Here we go.
Keep the line.
Keep your heads down.
Why didn't you take the gun, Bean? You a pacifist?
No, just a terrible shot.
(GUNFIRE)
(GROANS) Bloody hell!
Take ammo!
(WHISPERS) Shit! Shit!
(GUNFIRE AND EXPLOSION)
Frank!
(OMINOUS RUMBLING, DISTANT GUNFIRE, EXPLOSIONS)
(EXPLOSION AND GUNFIRE)
We gotta move.
We're lambs to the slaughter.
Captain Elliot, he got it.
He's gone. (EXPLOSION)
Move, Bean. Come on!
(EXPLOSIONS, GUNFIRE, MEN SCREAM)
Bean!
Per...Percy.
(GROANS) Percy. Percy, stand up.
Get in here! Get in here, Bean!
Get down! Get down!
Keep your heads down!
Keep your head down.
(MEN GROAN) Good job, fellas.
Good on ya, Bean.
(GROANS) (GUNFIRE)
(BIRDS CHIRP)
(PENSIVE MUSIC)
Did anyone hear the one about the man
who couldn't tell the difference between Vaseline and putty?
His windows fell out.
(SCATTERED LAUGHTER)
Could have been worse.
Could have got his plonker stuck in his missus.
(LAUGHTER)
Good one, Bean.
MAN: Sailor! To the bridge! (DOOR OPENS)
Oh! Thieving bastards!
That would be me.
Lester, how could you?
Everything all right, old boy?
You were wrong.
It was nothing like the opera at all.
You went to, ah, Cape Helles?
I don't know how I'm supposed to put it on paper.
(SNIFFS)
Let it settle.
The words will come.
2000 men...
gone.
Most didn't even make it out of the water.
(POIGNANT MUSIC)
Sorry to hear that.
The ocean by the ship turned red, like you'd read about in poetry.
Except this was no poem.
There was a man I was talking to before the door lowered.
He was from Birmingham.
Said his father was a baker.
(POIGNANT MUSIC)
What was his name?
Shit, how I can I not remember his name.
It doesn't matter... Yes, it does!
It does matter, Ellis.
It started with a 'C'.
Christopher? No, it was shorter.
Charles.
I watched the man drown in front of me.
How can I not remember his bloody name?
(POIGNANT MUSIC)
(DRINKS HEAVILY)
(SHIP BELLS CHIME)
Losses, sir.
(HORN BLOWS) (KNOCK ON DOOR)
Enter! (DOOR SQUEAKS)
Mr Bartlett.
How can we help you?
I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me.
I promise to only take a moment of your time.
(MUTTERS) He always says that then you find yourself an hour later
with his voice still buzzing in your ears.
I...I've always appreciated your goodwill over the years, sir.
Exploited it, you mean.
Well, go on. Speak.
Um...
well, I couldn't help but notice
that we landed directly in front
of many established Turkish trenches, sir.
And, ah...
was this to be our plan?
Military strategy is no concern of yours.
No, I understand that.
But it seems as though
Bulair might be a more susceptible point of attack.
That sounds more like a suggestion than a question, Mr Bartlett.
Yes, you're right. It does.
Mm.
Ah...
what can you tell me of the fighting at Cape Helles?
(INHALES) I can tell you what I will tell the other correspondents
at the official briefing tomorrow.
I'm merely wondering if more men are on their way.
Lord Kitchener has seen fit to allocate us a further two divisions.
(PEN SCRIBBLES)
(SCOFFS) Is that to be enough?
You are the eternal doomsayer, Bartlett.
One would hate to be in the trenches with you.
It just seems to me
as though four would be a more adequate number...
Sir, we have work to do.
It would appear that your time is up, Mr Bartlett.
(DOOR OPENS) So if you wouldn't mind...
Good afternoon.
Thank you, sir. Hmm.
Perhaps Mr Bartlett would be more comfortable on the 'Majestic'.
I think you might be right.
It is heart-rending work to write what I know to be untrue
and to confine myself to giving a descriptive account
of the useless slaughter of thousands of my countrymen,
when, what I wish to do,
is tell the world of the blunders that are being daily committed
on this blood-stained peninsula.
(BELL RINGS)
(DISTANT YELLING, EXPLOSION)
Sir. Sir, wake up.
I have news from the telegraph office.
Oh, let me guess.
There's alterations to be made on my Krithia reports.
No, it's not that, sir.
It's the 'Majestic'. It's been hit.
Hit? Sunk. 50 dead, sir.
You just heard about this now? It just happened late last night.
Then we have to hurry. I want all the facts that we can gather
in the next hour,
and then I want you back at that telegraph office
with my report in hand by midday.
I'll be damned if I'm letting Bartlett steal this one.
I don't think you have to worry about Mr Bartlett filing, sir.
No? Why's that?
Mr Bartlett was on the 'Majestic'.
(GUNSHOTS, EXPLOSIONS)
(SCREAMING)
Can we have a doctor, please? Excuse me.
This man needs pain relief. Were you prepared for this?
For what, Mr Schuler? To be so ill-equipped.
We were ill-equipped when we docked.
The numbers could have been halved
and we'd still be wrapping men in used bandages
and having them sleep on the floor.
They didn't think that there'd be this many casualties?
I guess they didn't. Do you, ah...?
Look, why are you asking me all these questions, Mr Schuler?
You see what goes on, and I value your opinion.
So, do you blame our government...?
I don't have time to blame anyone.
Blame is a luxury afforded to men like you.
Men like me?
Men on holiday, seeking adventure.
You know, the rest of us, we just get on with it.
That's hardly fair.
Look, I am going to the cove. I...I have approval. Nurse Grant?
Just take him through, please. (MOANING) I don't remember!
Schuler.
General Bridges.
Bloody Turks got me at Dead Man's Ridge.
Think I'd take more care at a place with a name like that, wouldn't you?
What did the doctors say?
It's gangrene. They want to take my leg.
Can you imagine that?
A general with one leg.
I reckon if we get to Alexandria, you'll be fine.
I won't make it to Alexandria, mate.
I'll get you a nurse.
No, forget the nurse.
Sit down.
Why don't you tell me about Paris?
(BELL RINGS)
Evening, sir.
Good evening, Milly.
I'm a bit early.
Ellis, welcome.
Thank you, Milly. I'll take Mr Bartlett's coat.
Yes, ma'am.
Oh, Ellis, it was in the news,
the 'Majestic' had sunk
and we didn't know if you'd been rescued or not.
I mean... Oh, Ellis.
Stop talking.
Aunty, have you seen my doll?
Um, no, I haven't.
Have you checked your bedroom?
I have.
Hello, Mr Bartlett.
What are you doing in here?
I was just putting my coat away.
And I was just helping him.
Come on, let's go look for your dolly.
And the midshipman said, "What was that?",
to which I replied, "German hospitality."
Then what happened?
What inevitably happens when a torpedo hits. We sank.
To you. What happened to you? Oh, I'm afraid I did something
one must only do under the direst of circumstances.
I relied upon the French.
A small transport bound for Marseilles took me ashore.
And how is our Jack?
Well, he's fine. Busy.
While I'm grateful for my brother's wellbeing, Ellis,
I only wish our armada was in such a healthy state.
As do I, Winston.
What chance do you give us of reaching Constantinople?
I remain hopeful.
My husband remains more than hopeful, Mr Bartlett.
He's assured me victory will be swift.
I'm sure your husband knows more than I, Lady Hamilton.
After all, he leads the battle. I merely write about it.
Mm. Times like these, solidarity and loyalty are things that matter.
What passes for parlour games in times of peace
can be quite dangerous in times of war.
I'm not here for parlour games.
Yes, why are you here?
And don't tell me you've come all this way
just to enjoy our wonderful company.
Merely that.
And a fine cigar.
Ladies, let's leave our drowned sailor to his cigar.
Indeed.
Now, Clementine, did I tell you the funniest thing...?
Hamilton would prefer annihilation than to lose face with Kitchener.
It's as though he holds some kind of schoolboy duty to his master.
Can't you speak to Kitchener? Doubtful.
Currently, he blames me for this whole wretched mess.
Without more men, Napoleon himself would not succeed at Gallipoli.
(LAUGHS) I wish someone would tell him that.
Then arrange a meeting for me.
I've been removed as Lord of the Admiralty, Ellis.
I'm virtually destitute and living in my brother's home.
What makes you think I could arrange anything?
Because I've seen you wage wars from Prussia to southern Africa.
I hardly think a mere title would stand in the way
of the indomitable Winston Churchill.
You have a remarkable ability
to insert yourself into others' affairs, Ellis. Oh, why, thank you.
It wasn't a compliment.
It should stop.
This expedition must carry on
if I'm to be redeemed at Downing Street.
The price of victory is forgotten amongst the glamour of success.
That's why we cannot fail.
I don't believe we have to.
But I need you to help me.
From the beginning.
Tell me what you've seen and heard.
And I want the full story, Mr Newspaper.
Lord Kitchener.
You must be Bartlett. Yes, sir.
I was hoping to speak with you about the Dardanelles campaign.
Slow going, I hear.
Slow going gives the impression we're moving forward, sir.
Churchill believes, however,
that if we can secure enough support in Cabinet
for heavy reinforcements... Reinforcements?
You are aware there's a war in France?
I am, sir.
Then you'll understand
that more troops in the Dardanelles is not a high priority.
Without more men, we'll fail to take Gaba Tepe, sir,
and without that, I'm afraid we'll fail altogether.
Why didn't we hold on to the hills?
Because we never had them, sir.
Winston and I have spoken with Prime Minister Asquith,
and he agrees that if we were to attack at Enos,
or just north of Bulair,
we could get a stranglehold on the narrows.
Churchill is no longer head of the Admiralty, Mr Bartlett.
His opinion means little to me.
Ian Hamilton claims each new day brings with it
an improvement in Anglo-French positions.
I'm afraid that is an optimistic retelling of events, sir.
Are you saying he's lying?
I'm saying Sir Ian is doing his best.
However, without reinforcements... There's that word again.
Can't the Dominion troops get on a bit,
seise the hills themselves?
That would be fraught with great risk and incredible difficulty, sir.
We call that war, Mr Bartlett.
My editor tells me
Hamilton has been pressuring him to have me remain in London,
which only makes me more determined to get back there.
Of course. Here. Thank you.
Not only does no-one in London know what's going on in Gallipoli,
no-one seems to care. Then why should you?
Because I've seen it.
I've secured a berth to Alexandria, leaving tomorrow.
Fortunately, the public is still hungry for stories from the front.
I want to see this through.
And you need the money.
Well... (LAUGHS)
(WHISPERS) Ellis, I can't.
The other night was a step too far. This is my home.
Let us go, then. I have a room.
I can't. Not today.
I have a thousand things that I need to do.
Of course.
(SIGHS) I'm going to get us some more tea.
Shit.
You're a paper man, aren't ya?
You got a pencil?
(ALL SPEAKING)
No, keep it.
(DISTANT GUNSHOT)
Sniper! Sniper! Get off! Get out of the bloody boat right now!
What are you doing? Come on, get out the boat now!
Come on, get off the boat!
Get off the bloody boat!
Come on, we have to go right now.
Move it! Move it!
(CHANTING)
Allahu akbar. (CHANTING CONTINUES)
The New Zealanders,
after gallantly holding the trench for eight hours,
were driven out by a barrage - B-A-R-R-A-G-E -
of bombs,
thus leaving the two sides exactly where they once were.
Ah, excuse me, sir.
I found this in an enemy trench yesterday.
I thought you might be interested in it,
seeing as you're in the newspaper game and all.
Does anyone have any cigarettes?
Which of you speaks English?
Come here.
Cigarettes.
I want this translated.
You think we are stupid, mm?
You think we print our plans for you, Captain?
I'm a journalist.
I wish to know how all of this is being reported.
Bandages, yeah? For friend.
How will you know if I speak truth?
I won't.
"An amazing artillery begin.
"It look beyond human.
"But the Turkish and German stood strong.
"Our men did their best to stop cruel invasion."
Is that what you people call it? An invasion?
You have other word for it?
Captain Bean?
Orders from General Hamilton.
Why did you insist on bringing everything?
I certainly have no intention of staying here long.
General Hamilton instructed...
General Hamilton will understand
that my place is on the cove,
not swanning about on some sort of retreat.
Meanwhile, you've packed half our bloody dugout.
Captain Bean. Welcome.
I'm afraid your camp's a little further on that way.
Go and find us a tent, would you?
Then come back for all of this.
Where is General Hamilton?
What concern is that of yours? I wish to know why I'm here.
Look, you're not the problem, Captain Bean,
but there's a Jeremiah in our midst,
a man who cannot be trusted.
Cheers, gentlemen. Cheers, Bartlett.
Don't move so fast, Lester. And get those forks out of my face.
Nevinson, smile for the camera.
Oh, Lord. Mr Bartlett!
Oh, look, it's Robinson Crusoe.
Welcome to paradise. Champagne? What did you do?
Hey? Oh, Victor? I found him at the Excelsior in Malta.
His poached duck was so good, I poached him.
I meant, to bring us here.
Ellis chose to seek counsel with Kitchener
and it seems word travels fast across the Mediterranean.
Only took him a month to land us here in exile.
Charles Bean, meet Compton Mackenzie, poet,
Malcolm Ross, a New Zealander, but don't hold that against the man.
And of course, Henry Nevinson,
long-time war correspondent and lackey to General Hamilton.
Ignore him. Ellis is merely frustrated
by the fact that his absence was hardly noticed.
Oh, we all know that Sir Ian would love to replace me
on a more permanent basis, Henry, but, ah,
the better writer was assigned to this campaign
and I dare not let the public down.
Now, Charles, how about that champagne?
Well, I hardly think champagne is appropriate at a time of war.
No, no, but you see, the true art of warfare
is the cultivation of domestic virtues.
Please, Charles, join us.
Come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all this unkindness.
Here's mud in your eye.
Mr Schuler, how was your first trip to the cove, eh?
Help yourself to a glass.
Oh, yes. Perhaps the bottle.
(HOARSE WHISPER) Nurse! Nurse!
Quiet!
Nurse, it's Phillip Schuler.
What is it, Mr Schuler? I couldn't get off the boat.
(LAUGHS) I couldn't get off the boat.
I...like, I went to. I don't know why.
He's just lying there. He... I met him...
You're drunk. Yeah, but that's not why I'm here.
Why are you here, Mr Schuler?
(LAUGHS)
Come with me.
I wanted to compliment you on your article.
Oh, you read it? I did.
But more importantly, the powers that be must have.
We received an increase in supplies.
Take off your clothes.
You didn't get off that boat, because you didn't have to.
That's all.
Everyone's scared, Mr Schuler.
I find swimming calms me.
Are you coming?
Attention!
Now, you are no longer permitted to live on the navy ships,
or at the cove.
From now on, your home will be here.
You will practise your profession
via the scheduled trips to the field,
which will see you taken to the cove in the morning
and returned by sunset.
All articles will be scrutinised
by not only the censor and the Major-General, but by myself.
You should also know that Captain Maxwell will now be with you here,
so constant feedback can be provided on your writing.
And all misleading articles, such as this, Bartlett,
will be adjusted to eradicate inaccuracies.
There was nothing wrong with that piece.
You insinuated that our men were frightened prior to battle.
And how exactly do I depict bravery without mentioning fear?
I'm glad you asked. Braithwaite, would you read them your version?
"They landed in water churning with foam and blood,
"warriors of Empire to the last.
"They fell before a terrible fusillade, but none turned back.
"Their incredible bravery was inhuman to behold."
Excuse me.
It's pronounced 'fusillade', and I saw men turn back.
They had every right to.
Regarding the use of film cameras,
now, the War Department have decreed them to be in poor taste.
Therefore, there will be an immediate halt
to the filming of any military operations.
Bean.
Never have I touched on future plans,
or criticised military practices, sir.
My articles have, according to the Major-General himself,
been impeccable.
Therefore, I must insist I be able to live on the cove.
You see, I'm under strict instruction from my government
to be able to report on the daily life of our men in the trenches.
Now, for me to leave the cove would serve little purpose
other than to have me shelled at twice a day as I come and go.
There are to be no exceptions. Gentlemen?
General Hamilton, a word?
I think you've said enough of late, don't you?
Perhaps, sir, but this is from Lady Hamilton.
She requested that I pass it on.
How was she, my wife?
She seemed fine, sir.
Eagerly awaiting your return.
I hope she thanked you,
because I hear that you tried, while in London,
to have me removed.
No. No, no, no. I did no such thing, sir.
I merely suggested that we needed more...
You and your suggestions would do well to stay away from me.
Are you happy? Hardly ever.
You know what, you may be able to concoct your fanciful stories
from here, but I cannot. How's that my fault?
Well, you knew full well
you were going against regulations in London.
I criticised no-one by name, either in word or print.
No, but you sought to insert yourself into this war.
Oh, good God, Bean, is that all you care about,
your regulations?
No, I care about these men. If someone didn't say something soon,
I feared there'd be no men left to care for.
I'm not here to criticise this campaign
and, if I were to do so,
the army would have no hesitation in sending me home.
Nothing will prevent me from doing my job, Mr Bartlett,
least of all your ego.
Is that's what you believe I'm concerned with?
Oh, I'm sure of it.
You abhor rules because you think you're above them.
Tell me, when have you ever not gotten your way?
Were you not just in that meeting?
Oh, well apart from here and apart from then,
I bet you always get what you want, like a spoiled child.
Isn't that so?
Yes! Yes, Bean, always.
Oh, well, some of us aren't so lucky.
Oh, God! Stop your complaining!
They're not going to hold you here for long. You're a company man.
Well, you, sir, are nothing but a salesman!
You know, I may exclude things, Mr Bartlett, from my writing,
but I never invent just to raise the pulse of a reader.
You know, I write only what happens.
Well, that doesn't make you a journalist, Bean.
That makes you a diarist.
Gather our things.
You spoke with General Hamilton?
Yes. And he changed his mind?
No.
I'll take these up. See if you can find something for tea. Yes, sir.
Where are you going, sir?
I'm going to the trenches.
(DISTANT GUNFIRE)
Bean, sniper!
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