Original subtitles

The gangrene's spread, Rainbow.

If we don't cut it back, the sepsis is going to set in,

and your organs will fail.

What do you want to do?

Don't tell me, don't tell me - just do it.

Alright...

Les! Go to the cookhouse and get a meat saw.

I need a saw.

Are you sure about this, sir?

You got to hold the pressure on the femoral artery.

Ready?

Alright, Jacky.

- Les! Hold him. Hold the leg. - Yep.

Hard. Firm.

- Alright, Bonox. Spoon. - Yep, yep.

Keep pressure on the artery.

- Pressure. - Yeah.

- Pressure! - Yes, sir.

That a boy.

Okay, hold tight.

Incision.

- Hold him! - Yes! I'm holding him.

Hold him! Hold him!

Hold him still.

- Clamps. - Here, sir.

Clamps. Saw.

Sir...

Saw away.

- Hold him. - Mm-hm.

- Hold that down. - Yep.

Break.

Okay...

Okay.

Hold, boys. Pressure!

Suture.

- Hold! - Yep.

Clamp, sir.

Begin suture.

Tying the artery.

- Hold him. - Holding, got it.

- Tying in a knot. - Yeah...

Clamps gone.

Spoon away. Slowly.

Up slowly, Bonox.

- Slowly. - Slowly.

Good.

Good job, sir.

He's back with us.

Good boy, Rainbow.

- You give him that smoke, Bonox. - Yeah.

I reckon you'll like this one.

Colonel!

- What? - Colonel!

Colonel! He's bleeding again.

- Bleeding, bleeding, bleeding. - What?

Bonox, spoon! Fuck, spoon!

Hold him down.

- Hold the bloody leg! - I'm holding!

Can't reach it.

- Hold him down! - Fuck!

Spoon! Hold it. Hold the bloody spoon, Bonox.

Yes, I'm pushing his - pressure with the bloody spoon!

- Yes, I'm pushing. - Hold it.

Hold him down, hold him down. Hold him down.

Bonox! More pressure.

I am putting pressure on it, sir.

Hold the leg, Les. Hold the bloody leg!

- I'm holding! - Fuck!

Hold him down.

Hold him down.

Bonox! Spoon! Spoon!

I'm pushing it as hard as I can.

Les, fuckin' hold his other leg.

I can't really see. Hold him bloody still!

I fucking am!

Sir...

Sir...

This is a thank you, from all of us men here.

I nicked it from one of the Japanese stores for you.

Eat up, sir.

Go on, it's from us.

Go on, it's okay.

It's yours, sir. Eat up.

It's yours, sir.

Especially got it for you, sir.

Eat it, mate.

It's yours, sir.

Take it to the hospital and share it.

- But it's yours, sir. - I said take it, Frank.

Eat it, mate. I'm not taking it.

I said fucking take it!

You take it now! You fucking take it!

Dorrigo! Good to see you.

- Steven. - Found us alright?

- Yes. - Sorry to keep you waiting.

We're hoping to ask you questions regarding Vera Davis.

Why?

We're following up on a complaint.

I take it the complaint didn't come from Mrs. Davis herself?

We're not at liberty to say who.

So, what is it you want?

Well, your version of events.

Very well.

Um...

Mrs. Davis was diagnosed with bowel cancer.

While removing her cancer,

I discovered it had metastasised to the liver.

So I then removed a lobe, which led to some bleeding.

Bleeding I was able to halt soon after,

leaving Mrs. Davis cancer free.

Did you seek reasonable consent?

For surgery? Of course.

Liver surgery? Not bowel.

Did I wake Mrs. Davis mid-surgery

to ask if she'd like to keep hold of her cancer?

No, I did not.

Do you realise how dangerous it is to perform a liver resection,

especially when there hasn't been due diligence?

I've been a surgeon for nearly 50 years,

so, yes, I know the risks involved with liver surgery.

Which is why upon laceration of the liver

I was quick to pack it with haemostatic gauze

before suturing.

What if there wasn't enough blood in your bank?

I don't bother myself with 'what ifs', Steven!

Mrs. Davis is now well, that's all I care about.

Well, the complainant claims you were 'playing God'.

God has no place in surgery, only science.

In my experience, those relying on God's intervention

soon find themselves joining him.

A doctor is more important than any deity -

it's they who save lives.

And it can be they who take them.

Well, that went well.

Are you familiar with the playwright Aeschylus, Rick?

No, I don't believe I am.

The father of Greek tragedy.

One of history's great poets.

Rightio.

One of the things Aeschylus wrote was, uh...

"I've learned to hate all traitors,

and there's no disease I spit on more than treachery."

How long have we known each other?

About 10 years.

And in that time, has my door not always been open to you?

Yet still you go behind my back.

- I did what I thought was-- - Hate all traitors, Rick.

And you should remember that next time.

Before you run your fucking mouth.

I want to hear you talk at the book launch.

- Well, I'm afraid you can't. - Why?

Because my family will be there.

Rick said you almost killed a woman.

- Well, is it true? - No, it is not.

- Why would he make it up? - I don't know.

He's your husband. You should ask him.

I'm... I'm sorry.

That was rude of me. I'm sorry.

To be a truly great surgeon...

To be a truly great surgeon...

To be a truly great surgeon,

one must be devoid of emotion.

That holds him back.

It's funny.

That's what I like about him.

Rick lets himself feel things.

Doesn't want to have sex with me...

but he feels things.

One person goes to the bathroom

maybe two, three times a day.

You've got to cater to that.

- So this clerk... - Yeah?

He looks at me like I'm bloody mad.

And I said to him,

"A council's sole purpose is to cater to its constituents.

And if one can't find a water closet to relieve himself in,

then one is not being catered to."

And he rabbited on about planning regulations

and mechanisms until finally I said,

"Mate, shut the fuck up.

If you don't want the entire town smelling like a toilet,

then you've got to give us more of them."

- Yeah. - Right, love?

I mean, it's basic math.

- Isn't this beautiful? - Gorgeous.

In paradise.

Here we go.

So you're looking for dark patches in the sand.

Give it a scratch.

They'll let you know if they're there or not.

Here we go. Oh, there's one. There we go.

Grab it, quick! Get your bucket!

Watch it. He might be a swimmer.

Well done.

Oh, well done. Cheers, mate.

I'm sorry I wasn't at the funeral.

Well, that's alright, mate. You got your studies.

Funerals are bastards of things.

Wish I'd missed it.

You know, life will just turn around on you.

In a flash, mate. In a bloody instant.

She walked into the bar looking for work and that was it.

The sun shined on me.

Lit me up, mate.

Felt like I was alive again.

Well, I'm in the drink, mate. Let's go. Let's go!

Beautiful! Perfect temperature.

Come on, love.

You excited? Oh!

Ooh, being a bit playful.

There you go. Isn't that good, huh?

This is the perfect temperature in here, isn't it?

I love salt water.

- You find something? - Yeah, maybe. Have a look!

What are you doing?

What do you mean?

Why are you best mates with Keith all of a sudden?

Well, Keith's my uncle.

He's my fucking husband.

What do you want?

Coward!

- How was your day? - Fine. Yours?

Helped Jessica with the boys, golfed with the co-op ladies.

Oh, was it competition day?

Nope. Just fun.

Tell me more about your day.

Ah, a few consultations in the morning.

Small surgery in the afternoon. That was it.

- That's it? - Mm-hm.

Why are you being investigated?

How do you know about that?

There's an awful lot of time to talk on the golf course.

What's going on?

They wish to take my livelihood.

- Who does? - The Medical Council.

Why?

A complaint was made against me,

so the Council are investigating whether my professional conduct

is to be deemed satisfactory or not.

But you're an excellent surgeon.

Tell that to Rick Maison.

What's he got to do with it?

He made the complaint. Considers me reckless.

- When was the surgery? - Several days ago.

Why didn't you mention it then?

Because there was nothing to mention.

The surgery was a success.

- Not according to Rick. - It's nothing.

Do not destroy what we have built.

It's an honour to meet. I very much wanted to see you.

Thank you.

We brought them all the way from Japan,

but don't worry, they have been both translated.

I'm thankful. My Japanese is very poor.

Have you read Bashō before?

No, though I have heard of him.

Jisei. Death poems.

We believe they transcend thought

and connect the reader to the poet's mind,

just before they take their last breath.

Enso. From the 18th century.

Thank you.

It's the least we could do

for all that you and your fellow soldiers have suffered.

It's a small token, comes with a sincere apology,

on behalf of the nation and its people.

- What my country did was-- - Was in the past.

Um, shall we?

Thank you.

Hurry up!

Get up! Get up!

Bonox.

Don't stare.

So this produces a saline solution, okay?

Yep.

You're to make sure it's working at all times.

Keep the place as clean as possible.

Clear out any of the shit and blood.

Okay.

And when they can, you got to help them into the latrines.

Yeah. Where do we wash our hands?

Outside, we wash thoroughly -

under your fingernails, wrists, hands three times over, okay?

Okay.

We'll burn the bodies in the morning.

You right, Rabbit?

I'm fucked.

Come on, mate, grab your shoes.

You're right. Come on.

Fuck. Fuck.

Sir...

Sergeant?

Sir, um, I took what I could carry in my pockets.

- Bonox? - Yeah.

Where'd you get these?

I just found them on my morning walk.

Thank you, Frank.

Hey, Sergeant.

- How you feeling, Rabbit? - You tell me, sir.

I think you should rest.

I'm going to finish this drawing.

So you can help the more important ones.

I'll go...

Are you unwell?

No, they help me work.

Stay awake.

Perhaps my men could use some.

No, Lieutenant-Colonel.

Philopon is for the Empire, not Australians.

They help inspire fighting spirits.

Perhaps we could have some morphine then?

You are to use what you have.

We have nothing.

We will succeed.

It is inevitable.

Do you know Bashō?

No.

He wrote of the Japanese spirit.

This railway is to carry more than supplies.

It will take the beauty and wisdom of Bashō to the world.

When this railway is finished,

all of your men will come to understand

the greatness of this mission.

Major, too many of your men are dying out there,

and with them goes your chance of finishing this railway.

Cholera is spreading through the camp.

You are a part of the British Empire.

Are you not, Lieutenant-Colonel?

And do you not think that your Empire was built on death?

Like my railway.

Your Empire was built sleeper by sleeper,

bridge by bridge, of non-freedom.

What of the pyramids? Do they not amaze you?

All history is built by men like me.

My wife always says I am a lucky man.

Lucky to have met her. Lucky to have such a beautiful son.

How about you? Are you as lucky as I?

How do you mean?

Children, wife, girlfriend.

Someone waiting for you when this is over?

Yes, I do.

What is her name?

Sorry.

You looking for your Uncle Keith?

No, I'm not here for Keith.

- Righto, you want a beer? - Yeah.

Yeah?

Thank you.

How long are you here for?

Just the weekend.

Alright.

You want to go to the beach?

Yeah, I always want to go to the beach.

- Yeah. - Yeah.

Keith's probably going to run for Mayor soon.

What are your plans?

I don't know.

It's... well, it's strange to plan for life after war.

Does Ella have plans?

Well, she's... she's making plans.

- She's making plans. - Yeah, she's, ah...

Big wedding.

- Hm... - Yeah...

House close to her parents. She's got me a job at a surgery.

Sounds perfect.

Yeah, it does, doesn't it?

Does she know you're here?

No.