All language subtitles for Deadline.Gallipoli.S01E01.1080p.WEB.x265-PGW

(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 doom-sayer,
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 well-being, 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!