All language subtitles for AFP

[water rushing]

♪

[water rushing]

♪

[thunder rumbling,
rain falling]

♪

[footsteps]

[exhales]

[pulling shade]

[sniffs]

[exhales]

- Maybe today.

♪

Hm.

[pulls shade]

[containers clattering]

- Hm.

[exhales]

- You did say you went shopping
yesterday, Mrs. Hartridge,

did you?

- Oh, I am sorry, Colonel--
no use.

We're fresh out of it,
and I should

have checked yesterday
before I made up my list.

- The marmalade, then,
Mrs. Hartridge.

That will do, thank you.

- I know how you love the jam.

♪

[sighs]

[tosses magazine on table]

♪

[back door closes]

What about a spin today,
Colonel?

Time for you to get out
and about.

- I was thinking about a walk,
actually.

- Why not?

Where shall we go?

- I meant on my own, really.

There's a walking path,
several kilometers,

not very busy.

Runs completely through
Oxfordshire.

Completely repaved.

Best thing for me, really.

- You know I can't do that,
Colonel.

I can't leave you on your own.

With your sight?

Now, what would happen if you
fell or got lost?

- Nothing!
Absolutely nothing!

For God's sakes, woman,
why do you think

I've got that
bloody mobile phone?

- You don't even know
how to use it, though, Colonel.

Really!

It would mean my job
if the agency knew

I was letting you wander
on your own.

- It's just a walk.

- I know what we can do.

Why not a trip to see
your old friend Mr. Peeks?

Your friend from the war?

You always seem to enjoy his
company when we go out there.

- At the hospice?

[sarcastically]: Well, that'll
cheer me up, certainly.

- It's not me, Colonel.

You must understand.

You've had three housekeepers
fired in the last three years

for letting you wander
on your own.

It's agency rules.

Remember what your brother said.

If it happened again,

he wouldn't be held responsible.

You'd have to leave the house.

♪

PEEKS: Quite a piss-up
I heard it was, too.

[chortles]:
Two bottles of Macallan.

I only had a shot of it,
meself-- they insisted.

[chuckles]:
If I were ten years younger...

[radio playing softly]

Oh...

Ta!

- Aren't you afraid

you're going to unsettle
your stomach with that?

- Maybe, Colonel.

But I'd rather the blood in me
stool than the blood in me eye,

if you take my meaning.

- Have you heard from anyone?

- I wouldn't exactly say heard.

Here.

[exhales]

- Cramwell.

260 Squadron.
- Yeah.

You remember Cramwell,
sir?

Betcha, Betcha Cramwell.
[chuckles]

- Betcha Cramwell...

My God, man, where has he gotten
himself to in all these years?

- Moved to Canada,
can you believe it?

Was living with his daughter
someplace

outside Montreal with
a French name

I couldn't pronounce.

- What is this?
It's not a newspaper.

- Nah, it's a print-out from
the internet.

That's how I get all my news
these days.

You might try it yourself, sir.

Not all the new things is bad
these days, really.

Fair number of seniors on it--
great way to get in touch.

- I suppose so.

What are you
listening to now?

- Ah, it's the recaps
from the last match.

- We beat Spain, did we?

- No, embarrassed them,
three-null, ha!

This new goalie, Kokot,
he's a machine.

- [chuckles]

- What's so funny, sir?

- Kokot, he's a Slovenian.
- Oh.

Well, I know he's
from somewhere like that.

I was going to say Czech
or Hungarian.

- No, Peeks.

Names are
shared throughout the region,

by the Slovaks, the Croats,
and even the Germans.

Kokot is purely Slovenian.

- You'd be in a position to
know, would you, sir?

- I would.

Means rooster.

I remember a farmer,
in particular,

who used to come to the head
of the soup line...

Kokot...

Kokot.

♪

Who is that?

- Where?

- There, sitting in the corner.

She's been sitting that way
for over an hour, I'm sure.

- Huh, I didn't realize your
eyes had improved so much

with those glasses.
- No, they haven't.

Just you get used to seeing
the shadows

in the corners of your eye
and... then they move.

- She moved?
- Hm.

- Well, that's news.

Hadn't moved as far as I can
tell since I been here.

- It's a woman?
- Hm.

- Nurse...

- Yes, sir?
- May I ask...

What's wrong with her?

- Her?

Not a thing.

She's been here
long as I can remember.

Never says a word,
far as I can tell.

I think she's a mute.

I wouldn't worry about her, sir.

♪

- Forgive me, old chap.

- Righto.

- Excuse me.

♪

[speaking Slovenian]:

- [speaking Slovenian]:

♪

- Nurse... Nurse!

NURSE: What is it, sir?
There's no need to shout.

- How long has this woman
been here?

- I can't be exact, but I'm sure
it's at least five years.

What of it?
- Five years!

And in all that time,

nobody has bothered to find out
what language she speaks?

- Don't take that tone
with me, sir!

This is a hospice,
not a hotel.

- Do you know
where she's from?

- I couldn't tell you-- could be
Liverpool, for all I know.

- Slovenia!

- Where's that?

- Good God, woman-- Yugoslavia!

If I hadn't detected her
origins,

that poor woman might have
spent the rest of her life

in the equivalent
of solitary confinement!

You... should be... ashamed.

- How dare you speak to me
like that!

It's not my business to know
where everyone comes from,

only to make sure
they're seen to.

- I want tea brought for
the both of us.

- My dear Colonel,
this is not an inn.

We do not provide hospitality.

- [speaking Slovenian]:

[speaking Slovenian]

[in English]: How kind of you
to introduce yourself.

- Well, I, I haven't yet.

My name is Malcolm,
I'm a retired soldier.

- Malcolm?
- Hm.

- Surely, you're one of us?

- Ah, there you are, Peeks.

Go to the head nurse,

ask her to get my housekeeper,
Mrs. Hartridge.

She's sitting in the car
probably smoking cigarettes.

I want her to bring
refreshments to this woman

and myself immediately.

- Sir!

- Talk to you later!

♪

MALCOLM: It's not for me,
it's for her.

I'm sorry I can't remember
more of your language.

There was a time.

It was my job, you know.

Intelligence,
communications.

There is something
I wish I could tell you.

Perhaps when I get home tonight,

I'll write it down,
translate it.

I'm sure my old box
of dictionaries

is around someplace.

There was a time
when I could have recited

an old folk tale
about a thieving chicken.

- [laughs]

- Ah, sorry
to have abandoned you, Peeks.

PEEKS:
Not at all, sir.

Obvious there's
a connection here.

So... what is the connection?

MALCOLM: Just the language,
old chap.

- Oh, is that so?

Thought there might be something
else.

MALCOLM:
Well, language brings back

memories of its own,
doesn't it?

In the past ten minutes

I've been sitting here
with this lady,

I've managed to disinter

several old memories.

It's been quite unexpected and
exhilarating.

Have a Cadbury, Peeks.

She's not eating all that much.

And say "dober dan"
to Mrs. Ternovshek.

It means "good day."

♪

♪

[water rushing]

♪

[footsteps]

♪

MRS. HARTRIDGE: Will I switch
the telly to the Nature channel?

They're repeating that
Sir David Attenborough.

You remember you enjoyed
that one?

- I do.

Thank you very much,
Mrs. Hartridge.

♪

It was the Scots Regiment.

That I do remember.

[sets cup down]

♪

[exhales]

[heavy breaths]

[sighs]

Not yet.

♪

- That a new aftershave,
Colonel?

- Not at all.

- [chuckling]: Just putting a
little more

behind your neck,
are you?

- You would tell me
if it was too strong,

wouldn't you?

- I think it's lovely, Colonel.

It's very nice to see you
so excited about the day.

Back to the hospice, are we?

- Hm, there's a lot to catch up
with the news.

I've got to bring
Mrs. Ternovshek up to date.

- Is that her name?
- Hm.

- And not a soul in the world
to look after her now.

- She did to mention
to me a brother, but...

He's passed away.

I think it was just the two
of them here from now on.

- How long had they been here?

- Well, since the war, I
imagine.

I can't go digging
through that rubbish right now.

I'll look into it
after I get back this afternoon.

- Have a look at what, Colonel?

- Oh, nothing.

Nothing for you to bother about.

If you could just
bring the car around.

- Hm.

♪

MALCOLM: Dober dan!

- [chuckles]

- I'll place these in her room
for you, Colonel.

- They don't do much with it.

He's a nice enough priest,
the gardener here,

but not very imaginative.

- You mean flowers?

- [chuckles]:
No, I mean vegetables.

I used to grow--
my brother and I both--

hundreds of pounds of tomatoes.

And chili peppers, and oregano.

- Really?

In this climate?

- Oh, we had a little house,

all glass...

- Ah, a greenhouse.

- Yes, that's it.

He used to have fellows
from the college,

former students,
would come to help us.

- Yes, you mentioned he was
a professor.

And you?

- I was happy enough to be
his housekeeper.

- But your own husband?

- [exhales]:
Good for nothing.

- Forgive me.

I thought he had passed away.

- Ah, that may be so.

He left me and went back
to Tolmin,

in the mountains, years ago.

My brother occasionally got a
card from their family.

But we don't really know
what became of him.

- I see.

- And you?

- Oh...
I never married.

It just never seemed to work
out,

me and a woman in a house.

But I have a brother
and a sister.

I don't lack for company.

- [chuckles]:
Ah, English bachelor.

- Hm.

- But I ask, though,

when were you in Slovenia?

- I beg your pardon.

Yes.

Wonderful memories.

- Ah.

You love our mountains.

- Yes, exactly.

I used to love it when the major
would send me

down once a month for a few days
to the base in Udine.

The mountains around
Nova Gorica.

In a strange way, they reminded
me of the hills around here.

Well, to the north of here,
I mean to say.

One could go off for hours
and follow the river,

the river Soca,
along the ridge.

- You were in Austria, then?

- On the border.

Not for very long.

Closing months of the war.

- That was a dangerous time.

- [word catches]

May I ask you,

when did you and your brother

exactly arrive in England?

- We stayed first
in an Italian camp.

A few years,
and then we went to Germany.

But we left Slovenia

right, the summer after the war.

- Ah.

♪

♪

♪

[exhales]

I can't do this right now.

Blast.

[birds chirping]

♪

♪

- [exhales]

Sorry to have to break the news
to you, Colonel, but...

Mrs. Ternovshek...

Well, she passed away
last night.

NURSE:
In her sleep, it was, sir.

Not a stir from her.

Real peaceful, like.

- I'm so sorry, Colonel.

- In her sleep?

I see.

- We did try to call, sir, but,
well...

You must've left the house
by then.

MALCOLM:
Yes, that's right.

I really should turn on that
bloody wireless phone.

- Fact is, sir,

what you did for her was,
well...

I think she was ready
after she had some little time

with a kindred spirit.

- We're awfully grateful to you,
Colonel.

She was in such happy spirits.

Couldn't stop talking at us
all night long,

even though none of us could
understand

a word of what she said.

Isn't that so, Mr. Peeks?

- It is, it is.

- Ah... thank you, Peeks.

I hope you don't mind
if I don't stay today.

- Not at all, sir.

Not at all.

It's a good thing you did, sir!

Really, don't fret for her.

- Well, steady on, man.

Who said anything
about fretting?

Really, Peeks.

Sometimes you can overdo it.

♪

MRS. HARTRIDGE:
No marmalade, then, Colonel?

I got the marmalade you love.

- It's jam, Mrs. Hartridge.

Blackberry jam is what I love.

It's marmalade
we've been making do with.

- Ah, yes, of course.

I'll make it first on my
list today.

I'll fetch the mail
and papers for you.

- [sniffs]

- If you need anything, Colonel,
I'll be out in the garden.

The vines need trimming again,
you know?

- Hm.

♪

♪

[murmuring]:
"Mrs. Ternovshek..."

"Donations may be made to..."

[muttering]

Of course,
it makes perfect sense

they would send me something
like this, but...

It doesn't say
where she was buried.

MRS. HARTRIDGE: Is everything
all right, Colonel?

I thought I heard you say
something.

- I think I shall get ready.

- I think that's
a fine idea, Colonel.

It will be good for you to be up
and about.

- Peeks...

What would you give
to get out of here?

- I'd like to say my right arm,
sir.

[chuckling]: But I wouldn't get
very far on my cane.

- Have you ever tried?

- Matter of fact, I did, sir.

Right after I first got here.

Walked right out through
the French doors one morning.

But it's deceptive.

[sniffs]: Yeah, I'd been staring
out the windows,

making a fine adventure
for myself

out of what I'd find
over the hill.

[laughs]

Nothing but a line of ugly
flats,

office buildings,
and construction projects.

Truth is...

I like it here now.

- That's because you don't have
a mission.

- How's that, sir?

- Everyone needs a little
adventure now and then,

to keep alive--
to keep their sanity.

But you can't just do it
for ourselves.

That way, you can't
maintain the stamina,

can't keep the drive
to keep on going.

- I see what you mean, sir.

You... Have you?

Found a mission, sir?

Is that what this is about?

- Perhaps.

- You're not going to tell me
what it is, are you, sir?

- I had meant to, old man.

- Oh, I, I understand, sir.

Times isn't what they used
to be, and, well,

I'm not as tight-lipped as I
used to be.

- Thank you, Peeks.

- Sir!

If it works out-- that is,
if,

if you find what you're looking
for and make it back--

will you take me next time?

- You have my word on that,
Peeks.

- Off you go, then.

Good luck.

♪

[sighs]

[door closes]

♪

♪

[passing traffic]

♪

♪

♪

[gravel scraping]

- [groans softly]

[gasps]

[breathing heavily]

♪

[vehicle passing]

♪

♪

♪

[breathing softly]

DOCTOR:
Excuse me.

I couldn't help noticing
you appear

to have injured your arm.

- Uh, that's quite possible.

It's quite possible, it's...

It's beginning to feel
a little numb.

I took a bad fall back there,
at the bridge.

It's a bit muddier
than I suspected.

- I'm a doctor-- be happy to
take a look at it for you.

- Oh, no, no, no, it'll keep.

- No, it won't, not at
your age, if I may say so.

- I tell you, it'll keep.

I've come a long way on these
old legs of mine.

And I've got a long way to go
before I get home.

- Where are you from?

- Wallingford's where I live.

- Good God-- on foot?

That's nearly ten miles away!

- What of it?

- Look, you'll never
make it back on foot

at this point of the day.

There's probably only two hours
of daylight left.

Do let me drive you.

- What are you on about?

I'm, I'm quite familiar with
this part of the country.

- Well, what was so interesting
that you decided to walk

ten miles and risk your health?

Is it a relative of yours?

- No family of mine is
buried here.

They sent me this, you know,
from the hospice.

And a friend of mine who's there
told me where she was buried.

I was so grateful
for getting out and about

that I didn't think of what
it would come to.

- What?

- Where she was buried.

And who she was buried next to.

It's obviously a family plot.

But there's no marker for her
yet.

These things take time,
they always do.

- Are you sure you're all right?

- Am I all right?
What's the matter with you?

Of course I'm all right--
have you never been

to a mausoleum
or gravestone site before?

- Of course I have, but...

I don't see what's
so special about this one.

- It's as much a part of my past

as it was of... hers.

I was beginning to feel
like an old badger,

stuck in that old
home of mine.

She made me get out.

Somehow... she understood.

I had something to tell her,

and I didn't get the chance.

That's the damnable thing.

We could've talked
about Bleiburg.

We could've talked about
Bleiburg and the trains.

You see the name on the stone?

- Yes, I do, Horvat.

- Her name is Ternovshek.

Obviously a married name.

I don't know what happened
to her husband.

She told me that
he'd left long ago.

Her brother's name was Horvat.

- Sounds Slavic.

- It is.

It's a name that's been...

Brought back some
awful memories.

- What kind of memories?

- It was June 1945.

I was a lieutenant then.

He, he came up to me

by the railroad tracks
near the barracks.

We had a makeshift office there
by the train depot.

- Where was this?

- Bleiburg.

On the border...

[gasps]:
On the border with Slovenia.

The old Yugoslavia,
I mean.

[gasps]

Easy!

- Look, I'd better wrap this up
for you.

I can't make a sling,

but at least we can make use of
my scarf.

You need yours.

Bleiburg, that's in Austria,
isn't it?

- Yes.

All the refugees...

Half of them were civilians.

The men, women...

[gasps]:
And children.

And then, of course, there was
the...

domobranci.

The home guard.

- As far as General Alexander
was concerned,

they might as well have been...

Germans.

They fought on the losing side.

We were told to tell them that
we were going to put them

on trains to the Italian side,

to Palmanova.

But it was a lie.

And we knew it.

We knew the trains were really
going back to Slovenia,

to Tito and the Partisans.

And we knew what was going
to become of them.

Horvat knew it, too--
he guessed it.

What are you supposed to do when
a man comes up to you,

and speaks his mind,

and tells you
the fear that's in his heart?

How do you turn away from it?

And the worst part was...

He had his little sister
with him.

- [speaking Slovenian]:

- What did you do?

Did you help them?

- I told him to get rid of his
domobranci uniform

and get over to
the civilian side.

I kept pointing...

I felt like a bloody fool,

because that's all I could do.

- [speaking Slovenian]:

- He looked me right in the eye
and he asked me, "Is it true?

Are the trains really going
to take us to Italy?"

I remember the Scottish
sergeants

standing on a platform by the
barracks,

watching, listening.

And then I told him,

"I'm going to turn my back
on you

"for 30 seconds.

"When I turn back,
if you're still here,

then yes, the train will
take you to Italy."

There was no other way I could
think of to help him.

- What happened next?

- Well, when I turned back, he
was gone.

I never saw him again.

I always hoped he'd got it,

and he took off that damn
uniform.

I hoped he got
his little sister out, too.

- And after all these years,
they came here to England?

- God knows.

It's just a name
on a tombstone here.

There was no way to know.

But she made me want
to wish there was.

I'd forgotten so much of it.

- What happened to the others?

The ones who were sent back?

- They were shot, my dear boy.

Like dogs in a ditch.

- How many?

- I'd say about 12,000,
maybe more.

Most of them...

a forest outside a little town
called Kocevje,

in the south of Slovenia.

- You're not serious?

- Yes. Shot.

Left to die where they fell,

stack upon stack.

Others dumped in caves
that were covered over

and filled in
to cover the corpses.

- Good Lord.

And nothing has ever been done?

- Of course not.

Even the Communists
kept it a secret

until a few years ago, when
Slovenia became independent.

And now it's so far back,
no one cares about it.

Look at me.

Even I'd forgotten
it had happened.

Jolly good job on the arm,
by the way.

I feel much better.

- What will you do now?

- Oh, I'll go home--
I've had my adventure.

The old lady has done me
a service,

given an old soldier a chance
to do something again.

I always wondered if they
made it out.

Horvat.

Now she's given me a hope

that maybe they did.

- I do wish you'd
let me take you home.

You don't know what the weather
will be like.

The slightest rain could bring
on pneumonia.

You'd be finished.

- That remains to be seen.

I'll take my chances
on foot.

I miss taking chances.

- Sir, I really wish
you'd let me.

- Leave me be, Doctor.

Let me be.

[leaves crunching]

♪

♪

♪

♪