All language subtitles for Theatre Macabre. s01e16.A.Matter.of.Conscience.eng

(tense thematic intro music)

- How do you do?

I'm Christopher Lee.

What would you do if you were asked

in the line of duty to put
to death a man

to whom you owe the highest debt?

Captain Hartroy in
Ambrose Bierce's

powerful story
"A Matter Of Conscience"

found himself in just
such a dilemma.

The Confederate soldier
who'd fallen into his hands

was no stranger to him.

They wore different uniforms,

but they shared the same secret.

They fought under different flags

but they shared the same country.

Will justice also dictate

that they should share
the same fate?

Neither of these men had
joined the army

to die for their country,

for that was an honor they
reserved for the enemy,

and they were enemies.

(footsteps on gravel)

(gun firing)

(wood chopping in background)

(soldiers talking indistinctly
in the background)

(footsteps)

(trumpet blowing)

(approaching footsteps)

- You see where it came from?

(birds chirping)

(upbeat instrumental music)

(horse neighing)
(clanking)

(instrumental music continues)

(horse neighing)

- Hold it, let's see your pass.

- Sure, General.

My, but you boys are sure
inhospitable.

I suppose, I'd need
somebody's say-so

to scratch my toe.

- Just show your pass

and hurry up about it.

- Okay-

(soldiers conversing indistinctly)

(man whistling)

(soldier lights a match)
(whistling continues)

(man continues whistling)

(soldier puffs on cigar)

Is it alright now?

- Get goin'.

(man continues whistling)

- I got it.
Howard Brune.

(footsteps)

Hold it!

(footsteps thudding)
(water splashing)

(man continues whistling)

Halt!

(footsteps, water splashing)

Stop or I'll kill you.

- If that's the way things are,
I guess I'm gonna stop.

- Your pass, I want to see it.

- I think you'll find it's all in order.

Captain Hartley signed it.

- That's hard to believe.

You see, I'm Captain Hartley.

Who are you?

- Hell.

(man laughs)

What a situation to be in,
in wartime...

Especially in wartime.

You must know what I was doing.

Now, you might want to
shoot me down right here,

but if for a while,
if possible,

I'd be most obliged to you

if I could live a little longer.

And if I promise to behave,

maybe you could put your
pistol away.

I hope you'll be able to
grant this request of mine.

It would be most embarrassing

to be led in at the point of a gun.

- I'm particular who I shake with.

(suspenseful music)

That's interesting.

Plan of our positions and
support lines.

I'll say one thing, you've
done a beautiful job.

- Thank you for the nice
compliment, sir.

I always try to do well.

- What's your name?

- Not much point in holding
on to that,

just for a few more hours.
Parker Anderson.

- Rank?

- Oh, nothing important.

Nobody sends officers out spying.

They might end up in
front of a firing squad.

A sergeant is all I am.

- Regiment?

- Please, Captain,

I'm not supposed to
give you an answer.

Just number, rank and
my name is all.

Anyway, it'd be worse for me,

I'm doing the spying.

If I told you, I'd have
no respect for myself.

- Mm, you seem to have
kept your sense of humor.

- I'll be losing my sense of
humor soon.

Makes things right

(chuckles)

while I'm just waiting.

- [Hartley] What makes you
so sure you're gonna die

in the morning?

- It seems that that's what
happens if you're caught at it.

It's one important
reason not to get caught.

- So you admit it then,

you are a spy?

- You've got the paper,
I had the plans and all.

I guess you got to believe it.

You wouldn't say that that plan of mine

was a love letter to General Grant,
now would you?

(wind whistling)

- Taskman.

(soldier stamps heels at attention)

Take this to Lieutenant
Tadwell right away.

And get back to your post.

- And the prisoner,
Captain?

- Leave him with me.

(soldier clicks heels)

(wind whistling)

Sure is a bad night tonight.

- Sure is, especially for me.

- I suppose you know what that paper--

- Oh sure, the firing squad tomorrow,

but I don't worry.

I suppose being a soldier
gives a man the time

to be ready for death.

It's part of the job.

- I guess so,

but the same death

can come in different ways.

I guess it's one thing to
die in a battle,

but something again to be executed.

- Oh, I don't know,
dying is dying.

You can only do it once.

On the battlefield,
you can be wounded,

bleed to death in agony.
Might take hours.

- Or you might die easy.

I suppose it depends on fate.

It seems like that to me,

how about you?

Do you believe in it?

(chuckles)

- Right at this moment,

I'm not too friendly towards fate.

- I must say, you're all right.

It takes quite a man

to die like it doesn't matter.

Your face has been bothering me,

now I know why.

- Excuse my face.

This face is only one of them.

As a spy I'm obliged to
wear a whole heap of faces.

I think my favorite is
General Lee's hound dog.

- I think you should take me as an ally.

You see, I know what
your name is.

It's Howard Brune.

Private Howard Brune,

who deserted from the Union Army

and went over to the Confederate Army.

I knew there was something about you.

You see, I was in that same outfit.

The 15th of June.

It was Wednesday,
I remember.

You were with a small patrol of

three men in the foothills,

in Ohio.

(horses galloping)

(gun cocking)

(horses galloping)

(birds chirping)

(footsteps)

(water gushes)

(footsteps?
(water splashlng)

(horses graz_ing)
(birds chirplng)

(gun shots)

(gun shots continue)

(horses galloping away)

(gun shots continue)

(military music)

(footsteps)

(gun firing)

(swords clattering)

(gun firing)

(soldier grunts)

(footsteps on wood)

(swords clattering)

(soldier exclaims)

(clattering)

- Well, look what we have here,

9l0ry be.

- Howard Brune,

a man who deserted
in Gettysburg.

- You dirty traitor!

- No, not like that.

(soldier grunts)

- Hold it, he's a prisoner.

- He's a stinking deserter,
that's what he is.

- That's enough now.

- What?

(Hartley grunts)

You asked for it.

(soldier cocks gun)

- Knock it off!

All right, you men,

no more of this.

Now get a move on back,

let's go.

On your feet, you.

I wouldn't care if they
beat your brains out,

but I want you in front of
a firing squad

inside of a week.

(tense music)

- It's almost as if I was
part of your life

that keeps recurring.
Here, before in Grafton.

- Grafton?

Grafton, Virginia.

(wind whistling)

(gentle music)

(gentle somber music)

(footsteps on wood)

- [Howard]
When will they come for me?

- Tomorrow morning,
I guess.

The court martial is not in any hurry.

(footsteps)
(music continues)

(gun firing)

(dog barking)

- How about giving me a light?

Soldier.

(crickets chirping)

(crickets chirping)

(slow, tense music)

(footsteps on wood)

(light tapping)

Well, that's how it happened,
Captain.

I suppose I was incapable
of leaving you

to be found sleeping on duty.

After all, you stepped in

when I was in trouble on the bridge.

- How?

But by the river today?

- [Howard]
I recognized you at once.

I didn't feel I should remind you.

- Yeah.

Well, maybe you should have done so.

- Might have been better.
But anyway...

They do say what's been written down

can't be rubbed out.

Worrying is no good,

probably make things worse than all.

I'd most probably get shot anyway.

Better leave things where they're at.

I'd be the last person,
Captain,

to want to be pulled off a limb.

- Private Brune,

it's as though everybody
in this war

was just me and you.

One hell of a mixture.

There must be a lot of men soldiers,

sick of the slaughter,

hoping to be alive at the end,

playing a part in a play of death.

Maybe a play they don't want
to be in.

But someone has to face it,

someone must take the
decisions he hates.

But how do you go about
shooting a man

whom you owe your own life to?

Nobody told me how to do that.

What beats me is why I'd forgotten it.

Forgotten being asleep at my post.

- Maybe you forgot it,

for the same reasons
I forgot it, Captain.

Well, it happens all the time.

- Not with me.

Don't make excuses.

I don't need them.

You know it suited me to
forget about that time.

Brune.

Brune, Brune.

I owe my life to you.

I'd have been shot if you'd gone

and they'd found me asleep.

Before all this happened,

I'd forgotten about the incident.

But if they'd found me asleep,

it would have been the end of me.

In front of the firing squad,

just because you'd escaped.

That's the way things go
in this life.

I guess both of us are
living on borrowed time.

Funny way to live.

- You mustn't let it
get you down, Captain.

Be happy for us both.

Nothing we can do about it.

Tomorrow morning,

I'll be all right.

Firing will be over so
fast I won't be able

to tell what hit me.

It's not important,

we all must die

for one reason or another.

- It had been my hope

that I'd overcome my
fears of death.

Through you, I've learned
how to overcome those fears.

- All ready, Captain.

- Papers are in order.

The prisoner has admitted spying.

He's also guilty of desertion.

Proceed with punishment,

proceed with the execution.

(chuckles)

(wind howling)

(slow somber music)

(footsteps)

- Company, attention!

(sword clattering)

Squad take position.

Frontline,

kneeH

Aim!

(guns clinking)

(tense brooding music)

(gun cocking)

(tense music continues)

(gun firing)

squad!

Fire!

(guns firing)

(wind whistling)

(slow suspenseful music)

- The Captain lost his life

but kept his honor.

No man ever picked a harder way

to pay his debt.

(tense outro music)