Original subtitles

'Ere, 'ere! What the hell do you think you're doing, eh?

- I'm sorry, friend. I didn't see you. - You ought to have known I was 'ere.

I've been catching this train up the valley for the past ten years.

My fault. I've never been up this way before.

All right. Don't let it happen again.

OK, chief.

- Off a ship, by the look of you. - Yes. Stoker, Seagull, 13,000 tons.

- Laid up at Cardiff three months ago. - You've been looking for work ever since!

You think there's a chance to get a job in a pit?

Maybe. There was a coloured bloke. Blackie Ellis, they called him.

Used to work at the Glen Colliery.

Work? Huh!

Now, you wouldn't think I was a rich man, would you?

- No, not to look at. - I'm married.

How much do you think I pay my old woman?

- Two quid a week!

Yes, I was surprised meself when the court made the order.

How do you manage it? Company promotion?

No, chum.

I toils not, neither do I spin. Grinding's my game.

- Grinding? - Don't tell me you've never heard of it?

No.

Art related to psychology, that's what it is.

You touch people's feelings by offending their ears.

I find a nice little stretch of gutter in front of the right kind of houses.

Off comes me hat - humble - and I start singing.

I pick a well-known tune and I murders it.

Now, listen.

The people in these valleys won't stand for that noise!

Why, this is one of my best districts!

The more you hurt 'em, the quicker they pay you to go away.

These Welsh are daft about music and as openhanded as the sun.

- Why don't you join me? - No, thanks.

- I'd rather work for my living. - Work?

- It's a disease! - I wish I could catch it.

That's why I'm on my way to that armament factory in Darren Valley.

This special will take you as far as Blaendy Colliery.

But you're leaving Egypt where the corn is, my son,

and going right into the wilderness.

That hooter means they're changing shifts.

You're telling me. I worked down a mine for five years in the States.

We'd better lie doggo for a bit, son. 'Ere, have a bit of cheese.

Thanks.

They're coming up.

- Why did we lose the last competition? - We didn't get fair play.

- I never knew a losing choir who did! - Too many flaming crooners!

That's what's wrong with it.

Get out of that cage. You want to go back down instead of these chaps?

Aye, go on. Snip-snapping, like a lot of kids!

More neck oil, that's what the choir wants, boy!

Neck oil, be damned! It was you basses that let us down at the last competition!

- Now look here, Nick Evans... - Give it a rest! I'm fed up with you.

And I'm fed up with this fellow, chewing the fat about us basses.

- And haven't you been chewing the fat...? - Oh, shut up, man!

What I want is more singing and less talking in the Blaendy choir.

I'm going through that Elijah Chorus. See you're at practice at eight o'clock.

- I'll be there. - So will I.

Stop gabbing! I'll be able to use all the voice you've got tonight.

Jim, tell my boy, Emlyn, that I've gone home, will you?

- All right, Dick. - Like a lot of kids!

- My dad up yet? - Aye.

Gone on with Nick Evans and Seth Jones arguing the toss.

At it again?

I'm entitled to my say - the choir's no good, neither is the conductor.

You wasn't man enough to say that when Dick Parry was here.

I'm man enough for two Dick Parrys.

It'll pay you to keep your mouth off Dick Parry!

- It's all right, Em. I'm attending to him. - No, Nick. Don't bother with him.

- He's not worth it. - Not worth it?

Here, Nick. My turn now.

Hey, Dick, what's wrong over the pit?

Oh, a couple of them hotheads of mine got stuck into each other.

Mam, there's fighting over at the pithead.

I wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't that Emlyn of yours again!

Oh, dear!

Gwen! Come back here!

You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, behaving like a pair of blackguards!

- I don't see anything to laugh at!

- I expect you started it. - Not him. He couldn't start a toy train!

- Emlyn! - Go on, take him home to Mother!

Em, please!

- That's a nasty cut over your eye. - Oh, that's nothing.

Come across to the shop for me to see to it.

You silly boy!

I'll give that fella such a plastering before the night's out!

Drop it now. I thought you were taking me out tonight.

Got to attend choir practice, lovely. The competition's only a month off.

Hm. Choir practice, mining classes and the night school.

- If it isn't one thing, it's another. - Never mind, lovely.

Everything's going to be all right soon.

- Not if you keep on getting into scraps. - You like a bit of a scrap yourself!

You'll know more about that when we're married, my boy.

- I'll be ready to take you on any day. - But not in my working clothes, eh?

Don't talk soft out here, Em. Coming in for a minute?

Oh, no. Your mother wouldn't like it if I came in like this!

Emlyn, here's that letter from the School of Mines.

- Come in and read it. - Yes. In you go, my boy.

In here, it's more tidy than the shop.

- It looks fat enough for a certificate. - No such luck. You open it, Gwen.

It is.

It is! Look, Mam.

- His manager's certificate! - Be careful with it, my girl.

- He'll want to frame it one day. - Don't I get a look?

- It took me three years to get that! - I'll hold it for you.

Oh. It isn't much to look at, is it? There's only one place we could hang that.

Of course, in the front parlour of your little house when you get married, my boy.

Well, it's glad I am that you'll be getting a good job now soon.

As I was saying to Gwen, what a difference there is

between Mrs Owen, the manager's wife, with a nice little car,

and the wife of a collier like your mother, with a house full of children!

- Oh, Mam, you mustn't! - No disrespect to your mother, Emlyn.

She's a hard-working woman who's had to make one shilling do the work of two.

I'll go, Gwen, bach.

You mustn't take any notice of Mam. You know how she talks.

Oh, I don't mind her - not now, anyway.

Wash your face, then, and I'll give you a kiss.

I said wash your face!

Four, five, six, seven.

- Why, it ain't so dusty. - How was I doing?

Very nice. You've got a big future in this game, my boy.

But it don't pay to be shy. Let 'em 'ave it!

Lamentations! Somebody must have been run over, by the sound of it.

I thought something was the matter when I heard the noise you're making!

Shut up, good boys, and go before you do frighten the children out of their senses.

Go, for it's a worse noise than the wild beast!

Go, before I send for John the policeman.

Spare a copper, lady.

- Payment for making such a noise? - That's the only way to get rid of them.

- To encourage them, more like. - Well, we've all got to live.

Oh, thank you, kind lady.

No, no, no.

There's your weakness, you first tenors.

Our kettle sings better.

Open your mouth, will you?

Eh, there is an opening there, but very little voice comes out of it!

- There's as much... - Oh, shut up!

Else I'll have rubber tubing put down your throat, see if I can get sound out of that.

Here, Sid. As they're coming to that place where they crack, try and cover them up.

Give them plenty of that! I've heard better first tenors singing on trees.

So you've condescended to come at last?

- Sorry I'm late, Dad. - Get to your place, man.

I don't suppose our celebrated bass soloist Mr Ben Jenkins has turned up yet?

I'm afraid he's met with an accident.

Accident? You were nothing to do with it?

I think he ran his face into something.

We're not going to wait for him any longer. Get into your positions, please.

Hurry up! This is a choir practice, not a funeral. Emlyn, come here.

- Was it a good scrap, son? - Aye, all right, Dad.

Good boy. Now, listen everybody. We'll go straight through.

As Ben isn't here, I'll beat the time of the solo part myself.

Come on, lads. Give me everything you've got!

One, two, three, four.

- Here, was that you? - Yeah. Was it all right?

Oh, come up here! We want to talk to you. Come on. Come on up, friend.

- Come on up, friend. - No, thanks.

I'll stick to me own line, but that's where you ought to be.

Well, so long, chum.

So long, and good luck.

The same to you.

Mum, I tell you, he's got a bottom bass like an organ,

the finest I ever heard in these valleys.

Ho ho! It floated in that hall like... like thunder from a distance.

- Here, steady, mate, steady! - Oh, it's either all or nothing with him.

With you in the choir, we can't lose at the eisteddfod.

Maybe, but I got to find a job. That's why I'm on my way to Darren Valley.

- Darren Valley? - Like a red rag to a bull!

- They beat him at the last eisteddfod. - No, you can't go there!

I'll find you work in the pit with me. Mam, he'll stay here with us!

- With us? - Mm.

- What you talking about? Where with us? - We'll find room for him somewhere.

- Somewhere? Dick Parry! - Mm?

Have you forgot that we have five children of our own sleeping in this house?

No.

- Well, I don't know what to make of you. - Ah, come now, Mam.

- Think what it'll mean to the choir. - You and your old choir.

Why don't you bring all the members of your choir to sleep here?

- Make a barracks of my house! - Oh, come now, lovely.

Don't think you can get over me this time with your nonsense.

- Let me go! - Listen.

Too much I have listened to you.

- Well, I think I'd better be going, too. - No, you stay where you are, now.

Let me have a talk with her.

- The stranger's all alone. - Where's Dad, then?

Gone after our mam. She's in her tantrums.

- I'm going to talk to the stranger. - You watch yourself, our Dilys.

I shall be all right.

Hello?

Hello.

I'm Dilys. What's your name?

- I'm David Goliath. - Oh, I know!

Same as in the story teacher told us in Sunday school.

That high up you are!

- Then there's the choir... - There. I'm not so high up now.

Our mam is in her tantrums.

But never you mind, she'll be all right when she's had her bang-out.

- Yes, I see. - ..I tell you I can't manage it!

Mr Parry?

I want to thank you for the cup of tea and the bite to eat, cos I'm going along now.

Indeed? I'm not letting you go at this time of night!

We'll find somewhere for you to sleep.

- He can sleep in the front room, can't he? - Yes, to be sure.

Here, here.

- Didn't I tell you she'd be all right? - Yes.

Dilys!

- Get back to bed this minute! - Oh, no, Mam. Let her stay.

I do wish you'd been down there to hear him tonight.

A bottom bass like an organ!

- He sang... - Hello, Mam. Hello, Dad.

Em, I was telling your mother about our practice.

Aye, great, but I've something more important to tell Mam.

We've got that little house in Mountain Row

and Gwen's mother is willing for her to be married a month next Monday!

- Isn't it grand? - Yes, Emlyn. Of course it is.

Though I don't know... But then, perhaps I worry too much.

What's the matter, our Mam?

There's nothing I've wanted so much

as to see you married to Gwen and in a home of your own.

- Well...? - Things have been so slack at the pits.

Well, I don't know how we're going to manage without your help.

We'll manage, my girl.

We managed before he started work and we'll manage after he gets married.

- Oh, I expect we will. - I know, we'll have David as a lodger.

He can have Emlyn's room and pay his share.

If you get me working, I'll do it all right!

- You'll find I've got an outside appetite. - She'll take care of that!

Come on, now, let's celebrate.

- Dilys, get that bottle of rhubarb wine. - Yes, Dad.

Well, son, you left it later than me and your mother did.

Let me see now, lovely. We had a baby before I was Emlyn's age, didn't we?

I don't know about you, but I had one and another coming!

Aye, and a good mother you've been to them all!

Here you are, my lovely.

Now let us drink to the success of the male voice choir at the eisteddfod.

- Emlyn and Gwen first, Dad. - Oh, aye, to be sure! I forgot!

Joy to Emlyn and Gwen!

They're coming up.

What's the matter, Seth?

Where's Dick Parry and that new butty of his?

- What do you want with him? - Call him and then you'll see.

Hey, Dick!

- If you don't want us, we'll go on down. - Wait a minute!

- Where is that new butty of yours? - He'll be along soon.

Ever heard of the seniority rule, Dick Parry?

- So that's what you're getting at? - Bringing a stranger to work in the pit!

On top of that, you give him Ben's solo part.

That's what's stuck in YOUR gizzard, Seth!

Now, listen, lads. Am I the first to break this seniority rule?

- We've always kept it in Blaendy, Dick. - No fear, we haven't, Danny.

Will, remember when your brother conducted the colliery band?

Didn't he bring three fellas from Yorkshire to work so they could play for him?

What my brother done is nothing to do with me.

You, Seth, you know those three tenors that walloped us at last year's eisteddfod

were brought in from outside Darren Valley.

- Isn't that right, man? Answer. - Ah, stumped you, has he, Seth?

Anyway, they were white. This fellow brought a black man to work down the pit.

Well?

What about it?

All right, David. Leave me to deal with him.

Listen, lads. Dave is more than a good singer.

He's as good a butty as ever worked down a pit with me.

Aye, he's a decent chap into the bargain. Here's Seth talking about him being black.

Damn and blast it, man, aren't we all black down that pit?

Aye, take a look at yourselves!

- This fella's as good a pal as any of you. - Well?

Anybody else got anything to say before me and my butty go down the pit?

Haven't you chaps finished chewing the fat?

What about a bit of work, keep the home fires burning?

Aye, come on, lads! Another eight hours' savage amusement!

- Don't let that lot worry you, Dave. - They don't worry me.

Nobody takes any notice of them.

It would have been better if you'd have let me go on my way the first night I came.

No fear, it wouldn't, man!

I know what'll drive that out of your head. Lads, what shall we sing?

- What about the eisteddfod set piece? - Fine! Come on, David, man.

Give them a lead.

Ooh!

Mam!

Mam! The bus for the eisteddfod is outside!

- What? Already? - If you don't believe me, come and see.

I must get those children ready before your father comes home. Fetch them in.

Right ho, Mam.

- Hello, girl. - Hello. Come in.

Hurried, I have, with my breath in my fist, for they've only just come.

- Let me see them. - For I wanted the children looking tidy.

- Don't you think they're lovely? - Indeed they are.

With a bit of trimming, they'll do fine for the wedding.

Yes, they'll be nice.

But I don't know when I shall be able to pay you for them.

Have I said anything about payment?

- Oh, that is kind of you. - We're as good as one family, my girl.

- You can pay me a shilling at a time. - Thank you very much indeed.

I won't charge you the credit price, either.

Come through quietly so Mam won't hear you.

Ssh.

- Ooh! Look at the state of those children! - Good gracious!

- Whatever have you been doing? - They've been playing "working in a pit".

Oh, dear. Come on for me to wash you.

Of all the dirty little flamers I've seen!

Dilys, I'll give you swearing in a minute!

- Where did you hear that? - It was our dad who I heard say it.

He said it isn't swearing, so there!

Dick does let off steam sometimes. He forgets there's children present.

- Come on, Johnny. - Come on!

How is the time, Dave? I've had enough of this shift.

- Only got ten minutes to go. - Good.

Pass me that drinking jack, will you?

- The air's thick in here today. - Yeah, it's hot as hell.

Aye, it's always warmish in Klondyke.

Then send me a roll of brattice cloth down. Right away, you damn fool.

- What's the hurry? - The air's a bit dirty in Klondyke today.

That chap in the stores on top is as dull as a sledge!

- What the devil are you doing back here? - There's a pocket of gas in Klondyke, sir.

I've told you to keep brattice cloth on the spot!

- Well, I... - Tell those men to come out at once.

Less than ten minutes to go, anyway.

I wish your dad would come.

- Will Dad's choir lose marks if he's late? - No, I don't think so.

Sit still, Johnny. What's the matter with you?

- Emlyn, what are you looking at? - You'll see in a minute, my girl!

- Hello, lovely. - Hello, Em.

- You look great! - Like it?

- You bet! - Hello, everybody.

- Hello, Gwen! - Doesn't she look nice?

- Are you entered for the eisteddfod? - Don't be silly.

- It isn't a beauty competition. - Are those sunflowers?

It's very nice, but it's a bit on the short side.

Why, you little Miss Particular! Get out of the way, all of you.

Let your mam have a look at her future daughter-in-law.

Indeed, Gweneth...

- The pit! - Dad!

Oh, my God!

- I'm going down with the rescue team. - Oh, Em, be careful.

I'll be all right. You stay and look after Mam.

Don't worry, Mam. We'll be back.

Mr Trevor wants number two rescue team down at once.

Come on, boys. Down below.

- Better get some more help. - Very good, sir.

If we don't stop this fire spreading, we'll have the pit down on top of us. Hurry up.

Come on!

Seth, seen my dad?

Sorry, Emlyn. There's no news yet.

- Nick, where's my dad?

- You won't get much out of him. - Do you know?

I don't know who's out or who's in.

- Number two rescue team, sir. - Right.

Get your equipment off and give a hand with this wall.

- Where do you think you're going? - In there to look for my dad.

- Not if I know it. - You're not stopping me...

Now, listen, son. There's Sam James and Nat Llewelyn.

- They're with number one rescue team. - I don't care...

- It's suicide. Don't be a young fool! - Let me go!

- Get a hold of him. - Let me go!

Look!

Ned, leave him to them.

- Are you all right, Dave? - I'm all right.

Steady, man.

Something for his head.

Dad.

- It's my dad. - There's nothing much we can do for him.

Dad, it's me, Emlyn.

Hello, Emlyn.

I've copped out.

Bit of bad luck, that's all.

Me copping out like this.

Only ten minutes to go.

It's the eisteddfod. Time we was there.

Em?

Tell your mam I...

Tell your mam...

He's gone.

We would like to thank the committee for postponing this eisteddfod

so as to give us a chance to compete.

But we do not feel we can do so.

For the loss of our conductor, my father...

...and those who died with him is too fresh in our minds.

I didn't know Dick Parry for long, but I lived and worked with him enough

to realise that he was a man - every inch of him.

Sometimes when we were alone, I used to sing him this song,

which we are now going to sing for you.

- What a game! - Oh, carry on and stop grousing.

Got to be going soon to the labour exchange.

You'd better get a move on, Nick, or you won't get back in time to sign on.

- That flaming labour exchange! - It's a good job we've got it.

Better dole money than no money at all.

This "half a loaf's better than none" talk makes me sick!

Nearly a year since the explosion

and we're numbers on the books of a labour exchange.

- Like a lot of flaming convicts! - Keep working and forget it!

Call this work? Burrowing like rabbits to get enough coal to keep my kettle boiling.

- You like a cup of tea, don't you, Nick? - Enough to drive a chap daft!

Here we are, scratting for a few bits of slaggy coal

whilst down Blaendy pits there's millions of tons of best Welsh coal!

What I want to know is,

why can't we get to the coalface through the sealed section?

- Because it's chock full of gas, I expect. - If only they'd let us have a shot at it.

- You may get your chance yet, Nick. - Still got faith in that letter, have you?

You're daft if you think the owners will take notice of that. You and your letters!

The last letter Emlyn sent

was signed by the Miners' Federation, Chamber of Trade...

- Aye, and Uncle Tom Cobley and all! - We'll get an answer from London yet.

If we do, it'll be as they said in parliament, in the negative.

Ah, forget it, Nick. Let's get going.

Give us a hand with this sack.

- Coming, boys? - Coming, Dave.

Come on, boys.

Home, lads. Don't spare the horses!

Let me have another pennyworth of tea on old account till pension day?

Since the pits closed, nobody comes in here with money in their hand.

- It's all old accounts. - I know. It's awful.

Some of the people round here you can't trust them further than you can see 'em.

- But you know I'm as safe as a bank. - Go now, Phoebe.

This old account business will have to stop.

Thank you, Catrin, but you know I'm as safe as a bank!

Safe as a bank!

Oh, you can wait a minute!

Shop!

Good day, Mrs Owen. Let's have a packet of Woodbines till the weather breaks?

Such cheek! You'd better go before I break YOU.

- Oh, come on. Come on! - Woodbines without the money, indeed?

- Sure you wouldn't like a box of cigars - Damn! I didn't know you sold cigars!

Lamentations! Outside!

- Oh, but Mrs Owen...! - Outside, I said.

All right.

- Where's your mother? - I'm sorry, Mr Howells.

- Mam won't be able to pay you today. - You tell your moth...

- But I can't, Mr Howells. - Isn't she in?

Yes, but she's bad in bed.

- Mam... - Ssh!

- It's splitting in four ways. - Now, you tell your mother from me.

Unless she pays me something next week, it's in the County Court I'll put her.

- Yes, Mr Howell. - Where's your mother?

- She's bad in bed. - Then I'll go up.

Get out of my way!

Ooh, it's you. Come in and sit down for a minute.

Thank you, I'd rather stand.

- Take the children upstairs, will you? - All right, Mam. Come on.

I've come to settle this thing once and for all.

- I don't know what you're talking about. - Don't you?

From now on, my Gwen will have nothing more to do with that boy of yours.

Perhaps the young people will have something to say about that.

Gwen won't. I'm not letting her wait any longer.

- If the pits hadn't been closed... - If! If!

No girl of mine's going grey

waiting for a boy on the dole without a penny to his name.

- A lot of good-for-nothing... - Don't dare call my boy good-for-nothing.

He's breaking his heart because he can't get work!

Nobody's done more to get the pits opened.

I know. Letters to the owners.

Well?

All right. Would you like me to tell you what happened to that last letter?

Yes. What?

Emlyn's come. I hope he gives her what for!

- Come on. Tell us. - I'll tell you.

The owners have written to say that your scheme is no good. Not worth that!

- How do you know? - Never you mind. I know.

- You're no better than a peeping Tom! - Don't bother with her, Mam.

- But... - Shut up!

- So we're right up against it again. - Well, we've been up against it before.

- Let's have another try. - Try?

We're about sick and tired of you and your trying.

- Speak for yourself! - Listen to me, Emlyn Parry.

My girl is a qualified postal clerk and I had to pay for her training.

Me, a widow, on my feet in that shop from early morning till late every night.

Now the place is my own property, and money in the bank I've got, too.

If you think I'm fool enough to let you drag her down

till she's a pauper like the rest of you, then you're very much mistaken.

That's enough, Catrin Owen. There's the door!

I'm going, and let me tell you this - before very long,

me and my girl will have cleared right out of this poverty-stricken hole!

Suppose you clear out of my house for a start? Go before I forget myself!

Well, that's that.

- Here, Em. - It's no use, Dave!

People of Blaendy are properly in the cart.

- You ought to get out of this place. - Why? I pay my way.

There's my 17 bob dole money. I do my bit on the slag heap.

- I try not to eat too much! - If you had any sense you'd go.

- Dry the Darren Valley. - No, Em.

- Get to Cardiff, find a ship. - Why are you staying?

I'll tell you. Because of Mam and the kids.

- They're MY responsibility. - Not altogether, Em.

Listen, son. Your father was my friend.

He took me in, gave me food and shelter, found me work.

What kind of a man would I be if I left now, when things were bad?

- Let's don't talk about it anymore. - All right, Dave.

That old thing from the Post Office won't come back here again!

Oh, no! Not after what I told her in front of all the children!

Dilys! Children! Come on out...

Oh, you don't miss much, do you?

We were only waiting for you to call us to supper, Mam.

Yes, with one eye to the keyhole. Come on. Eat your food.

Coming here with her own cheek! Paupers, indeed!

- My boy not good enough for her Gwen? - We may as well face it, she was right.

- Right? What do you mean? - We are finished, scrapped and finished.

- But my boy... - It's no use, Mam!

There's nothing more to say.

Oh, yes. Oh, yes!

I...I think he's still fond of you.

- Indeed? That's very kind of him. - But it's all over.

I'm afraid he agrees with her and they've made up their minds, both of them.

They've made up their minds? I don't suppose I count in the least?

- Emlyn said he was going to tell you. - I'll tell him!

- Where are you going? - I'm going to have a word with Mr Emlyn.

You'll find him up at the house.

Emlyn?

Emlyn!

- Hello, Gwen. - What's the matter?

Everything.

Em, don't be silly!

- Give me a kiss. - Have some sense!

- I'm not made of stone. - Then you don't care for me anymore?

How can you say that when everything I've tried to do for years has been for you?

Down the pit eight hours a day.

After work, in night school through the winters to get that certificate. Who for?

- Em, let's get married. - What? On my dole money?

With my mother and the kids on public assistance and things getting worse?

Emlyn, listen. Those things aren't really important.

Plenty of people in Blaendy are married like that.

It's easy to get married, but what about the future?

- We'd be facing it together. - Bringing up children on two bob a week?

- It's not good enough! - I tell you, it's good enough for me!

I like your spirit, lovely.

Lord, I'm as anxious to get married as you are.

My own boy.

There must be something I could do.

Gwen?

If I went to London and met those owners face-to-face...

...do you think that would do any good?

- Here we are, Ned. - Easy.

Take a drink of this and rest a while.

Get this inside you, Ned. I've had plenty. Don't want any more.

- Dave? - Ta, Nick.

I don't like the look of old Ned.

A bit of bread is poor packing for a man in his state.

Some proper grub and a bed is what he wants.

- It don't look like we'll get to London. - London be damned! I want a good meal.

Ah, well, the first 200 miles is always the worst!

- How do you feel, Ned? - Not so dusty now, lad.

Listen to that. You chaps are Welshmen and you can sing!

What's wrong with singing our way to London?

- What, beg? - Why not?

Ned's a pal of ours. We've got to do something.

Yes. You're right, Dave.

- Hey, Nick, Seth. - What's up?

- Come on. Fall in. - What, again?

Shut your mouth and do as you're told!

Hitler demands Danzig and the Corridor!

That flamin' Adolf will be asking for Blaendy next.

- What's in the paper, boy? - Buy one and see.

Oh, come on, son. You know we haven't got a penny between us.

That's all you get for nothing!

- Hitler demands Danzig and the Corridor! - What's Hitler got to do with us?

- You never can tell. - Come on, lads. Hit the note, Dave.

There you are. I told you. That means war.

Never mind. We've marched into London, which is more than he'll ever do.

Well, here we are at last.

After three days' solid singing,

our throats will need decarbonising to talk to these owners!

- I'll talk to them when the time comes. - Parliament called for Sunday!

Parliament called for a Sunday, of all days. Things are pretty rough.

- Is it any good going in now? - Why not?

We've come a long way to put the case for Blaendy and we'll put it.

- Emlyn's right. In we go. - And to hell with Hitler!

Read all about it! Late news extra!

Slip into the boardroom and tell Sir John that these men from Blaendy are here.

- That'd be more than my job's worth. - Can we wait here, miss?

Perhaps Sir John might spare us a few minutes after the conference.

- They don't mind how long they wait. - It's no use.

Sir John will have to go straight to the Ministry of Mines.

This crisis has turned everything upside down.

Hello?

Oh, Sid. Hello, darling.

What?

Oh, dear.

When? Tonight?

But I can't. We're terribly busy here.

Oh, don't.

All right. If I possibly can.

Goodbye, darling.

- What's up, miss? - It's my boy. He's just been called up.

He's leaving for his depot in an hour's time. He wants me to see him off.

Why don't you go? The place will be here when you come back.

- You think it would be all right? - Of course.

You go and give the young fella a kiss to remember you by.

- Tell him I won't be long, Jackson. - I'll hold the fort till you get back.

Make yourselves at home, boys.

Ah, yes. That's the way of it.

The sweethearts and wives will have to go through the hoop,

the same as my old woman did in 1914.

Miss Grey? Miss Grey?

- Have you seen her, Jackson? - Oh, er... Yes, sir.

She's just gone round the corner to the, um...you know, sir.

What? Ooh, yes, yes. When she returns, Sir John wants her in the boardroom.

Very good, sir.

Ha ha ha! Takes an old sweat to tell 'em the tale, huh?

- Is Sir John in there? - Yes.

Say, friend.

We wouldn't mind if you went for a bit of a walk.

Huh?

- And have a smoke while you're waiting. - Ooh.

A nod's as good as a wink to a blind horse.

But make it snappy. Can't stay too long, you know.

- Go on inside, lads. And lots of luck. - But you're coming with us, Dave.

No, no. I wouldn't be much help to you in there.

I'll just stay here and, er, hold the fort, as the sergeant says!

You're wasting time! Go on inside.

- Stick it, the Welsh, eh, Ned? - That's it, son.

- I'm very sorry, sir. That's the position. - It must be done, Mr Lewis.

- Tomorrow we may be at war. - But Sir John...

I promised the government 40,000 tons a week.

The output is only 30,000 tons. 30,057, to be precise.

All right, we'll restart some of our pits. What about Trehenwg, Blaendy, Cymlyn?

Sir John, you can't open an idle pit like opening that door...

What the devil are you doing here?

We've come to talk about that idle pit in Blaendy.

- What's that got to do with you? - Well, sir.

We worked down that pit, as our fathers did before us.

We want to go on working. That's all, Sir John.

I see. I can assure you that we're anxious to see you start work,

- but there's nothing we can do for you. - There's something we can do for you.

Give us the chance and you'll be getting coal from Blaendy pit within a week.

- I'd like to know how you'll do that. - If you'll allow me...

My boy, we have gone into this matter thoroughly.

Even if we undertook the cost

of driving a new hard heading to skirt the seam section,

- It would take us at least a month. - Yes.

But there's a quicker way - straight through that sealed section.

- You'd never get through alive. - That's our business!

In that sealed section there may be gob fires, gas accumulations...

- We're not asking you to go through it! - Now, Nick, don't lose your head.

Listen, Sir John, we heard you say that tomorrow we may be at war.

In that case, you'll know the risks that will have to be faced in the trenches,

in the sky, on the sea, aye, and by our women and children in their homes.

Coal in wartime is as much a part of our national defence as guns or anything else,

so why not let us take our chance down the pit?

Well, Mr Lewis, what do you think?

Sir John, if they get through, it'll give the government that extra 10,000 tons.

- And with these men, it might be done. - It can be done.

- What's your name? - Emlyn Parry.

As a mining engineer, I'd consider it a privilege to lead your men in this attempt.

Sir John, with your permission, I leave for Blaendy tonight.

Let's make sure we've got everything and it's all in order. Blasting powder?

- Here, sir. - Battery box?

- Here, sir. - I've got the cable.

I've got the yellow sparrow. I hope it don't conk out.

Now, none of your nonsense! Come on, lads.

- Shall we start, sir? - Yes, right away.

Get at it, boys.

A penny for them, Em.

They're worth more than that, Dave.

- Well, it won't be long before we're back. - I hope so, sir. Good luck.

Thank you, Jim.

Just a minute. I'll test for gas.

Yes, a bit of gas here.

Put your respirators on.

Come on, Phil. We must get this wall sealed up.

- That means shutting them up in there. - Mr Lewis's orders.

If there's trouble, he doesn't want it to spread to the rest of the pit. Come on!

All clear. Take your respirators off, lads.

- There's a big fall of roof in there. - I can see it, son.

- Are we going to blast a way through? - I don't like it but we'll have to.

Otherwise, it'll take us a day to get through.

- Emlyn, see to the placing of the shot. - Yes, sir.

- Dave, let's have that powder. - Here it is.

Ned, get me some sludge to back the charge with.

- Where are you going to place it? - Here in the middle of this big stuff.

- Can you manage, Dave? - It's all right, Em.

Get it in as far as you can.

- You nearly ready? - In a minute, Mr Lewis.

We'd better put little Caruso in a place of safety before the big bang.

Seth?

Poor fellows.

I expect they was caught by that fall.

Connect up, Emlyn. Stand clear, lads.

All set. Let her have it, Em.

Roof's a bit shaky. Lloyd, get some of that loose timber over there.

- Very good, sir. - Morgan, give him a hand.

Shall we go up to the rise and see how it's looking?

- Yes. Carry on. - Come on, boys.

Morgan, hurry up with that prop.

Put it in here.

Steady, now.

- Here you are, sir. - Get some more timber, Lloyd.

Aye, sir.

- Which way now? - To the right. We'll try the door.

- We'll have to clear that lot. - With these flaming things on?

- There's no gas just here. - All right, take them off.

- This'll come in handy, Seth. - Yeah.

Careful with them, Seth. Pile them up on here.

- All ready, Em? - Right away, Ned.

Well, here goes.

Say "Open, Sesame", Dave.

Open...Sesame!

The trucks!

My God, Mr Lewis!

- This roof is working like yeast. - Don't move, Morgan, whatever you do.

- I'll get another prop. - All right.

Mr Lewis! Mr Lewis!

Mr Lewis!

- Any news, Mr Trevor? - Not yet, Ned.

- I'm sorry, there's no definite news yet. - Do you think they'll get through?

God only knows, my girl.

Yes, only He knows.

I'm afraid it's no use, Nick. That rock still sounds like cast iron.

Well, they must keep on trying.

- Do you think we've got a chance? - Of course we have!

- How does that feel now? - Not so bad.

Wet your lips.

- That sounds better! - Think so?

Try further along.

Was that a weak spot?

No. You take it easy.

It's no good tapping any more. Let's get at it.

He's right, Em. Let me have it.

- It's pretty hard, Ned. - Aye, son.

Nick.

Emlyn. Look at this lamp.

Getting short of oil, I expect.

- Is it, Ned? - The lamp's not short of oil.

- What it wants is air. - I could do with a lungful myself!

And a pot of beer apiece wouldn't do us any harm!

Don't waste your breath, my boy, for you have little enough left.

It's getting pretty thick.

- We shan't last more than an hour. - Well, that's the end of that.

We must be a daft lot! Why didn't we think of it before?

- Think of what? - Blasting, of course!

Can't we fire a shot and blow our way through?

Aye, that's it. Place the shot at that weak spot David was working on.

- Give us that blasting powder. - What for? To blow ourselves to pieces?

It'll be certain death to fire a shot in a place this size.

It'll be certain death if we don't do something.

- We can hide against that rock face. - That's right. Where's the cable?

- Quick, let's have it! - Weren't you carrying it, Dave?

No. Not me, boys. Mr Lewis had the cable.

Oh, hell!

Look at the flaming thing! Just four foot of rock barring our way to safety!

I'll smash a way through! I'll smash a way through!

Steady, Nick. Steady.

Look, lads. Here's what we want. Here's cable.

- This'll do the job, lads. - It's possible.

Whoever fires the shot won't stand a dog's chance.

Well, it'll be short and sweet for one and that's better than slow death for us all.

I'll have a smack at it.

- If it's got to be done we'll draw lots. - That's it.

It's you and me for it, Nick. They've more dependent on them than we have.

Oh, no. We're not having that.

Not likely! We're all in this.

Leave it to me and Nick.

Tippit.

So it's up to you, Dave.

Not yet. Me and Ned's going to have our chance.

Tippit.

You lose, son.

Well, it's you and me for the final, Em.

- Your call, Dave. - Now, listen, Em...

I said your call.

Tippit.

- You fellas get back there. - Listen...

Get back, I say! Leave this to me. There isn't much time.

I'll place the charge for you.

Thanks, Dave.

Let's say a word for the boy.

Our Father,

we, trapped here in the depths of the mine,

are asking you to look down on that boy

who is risking his life for us.

In our Saviour's name.

- Amen. - Amen.

For the last time, Em, will you listen to me?

- It fell to my lot, I tell you. - I know, but there's your mother.

- And Dilys and the other children. - They must take their chance.

- And there's Gwen. - For God's sake, shut up!

You're tearing the guts out of me.

Get back to the others.

All right.

Then go!

Well, Em...

All the best, son.

Is he hurt? I can't see a mark on him.

Emlyn? Emlyn?

Where's Dave? What's happened?

So, he did it after all.

David.

David!

Dave.

He's dead.

I am the way and the life.

Amen.

Come on, son. We must finish what we set out to do.

You stay with him, Seth.

We must push on to the coalface.

Come on.