Brothers of War (2015) Movie Script
1
"Subject to the payment
of my just debts,"
and funeral and
testamentary expenses,
I give, devise and bequeath
all my effects
and estates whatsoever,
including any property
over which I have a general
power of appointment by will,
to my trustees upon trust,
to my two beloved sons,
Kurt Ludwig Gutenberg
and Gustav Otto Gutenberg
in equal shares, absolutely.
Provided that if either of them
shall predecease me,
"leaving a child..."
None of that last bit
is relevant.
You're both alive, and there are
no grandchildren... yet.
So it couldn't be
more straightforward.
Everything is split
right down the middle.
Oh, and, uh...
there was... this.
- What is it?
- I have no idea.
- It's addressed to both of you.
- Thank you.
"My darling boys."
By the time you are
reading this, I will be gone,
but I wanted you to know
that you have both given me
so much joy in my life.
Not just watching you grow
as individuals,
but in the knowledge
that you both have
so much affection
for each other.
I think brotherly love
is a truly wonderful thing.
Do you remember
when you were both little
how we would sit together
in front of the fire
on rainy evenings,
and I would tell you stories?
And when I had finished,
you used to say,
"Papa, just one more."
Well, I have one final story
for you both.
So why don't you
pour yourself some beer, hmm?
I think you are
going to need it.
It all began in 1939,
on a little dairy farm
in England.
The farm was owned
by Jacob Jackson
and his wife Margaret.
"They had two sons,
Jake and Greg."
Throw you that.
Here.
Jake, get down!
I've told you before!
Jake, I said get down!
Just you wait till your father
hears about this.
That's enough, Jacob.
Not so rough, Jake!
You should learn
to treat a lady properly.
I'll have that, thank you.
Come on.
I ain't going up there.
Come on.
I suppose I'll just have
to come down and get you then.
You could've
killed yourself doing that.
But I didn't, did I?
Why didn't you have a go?
You don't wanna do it because
you haven't got the balls.
That's why, eh?
Have ya?
You ain't got
the balls to do it.
So where did the bike
come from, eh?
I borrowed it off a mate.
500. Vertical twin.
Very sweet.
Triumph Tiger.
And what mate might that be, eh?
He says he borrowed it, Jacob.
Just for the day.
It's Charlie Palmer's.
I'm giving it back tomorrow.
You're working here tomorrow,
that's what you're doing.
There's more than enough work
to be done
without you messing about
with motorbikes
that don't belong to you.
We're fixing the Fordson
tomorrow.
Magneto's not sparking.
Nothing the two of us
can't put right now, eh, Dad?
Get rid of it, Jake.
We can eat it.
Get rid of it.
I know how to skin it.
Dad showed me.
We'll see what your father
has to say, shall we?
Just a kitten.
He took your gun.
Not enough meat on it
to feed a sparrow,
let alone a family of four.
Sorry, old boy.
Dogs will like it.
What do you want?
Well, go on, have a look.
Stop it, Jake!
Well, he's not interested
in your tits, Sally.
He's a homo.
You're not a homo,
are you, Greg?
Made you jump.
You shouldn't
take notice of Jake.
He's daft.
I don't take any notice of him.
I don't believe
what he said about you.
I know you like girls.
I've seen you looking at me.
They say there's gonna be a war.
What will you do
if there's a war?
- There might not be.
- Of course there will!
Everyone says it's gonna happen.
What will you do?
Are you gonna fight?
They might call.
That's what they do, ain't it?
Come and get you,
make you sign up and all.
If you go to war,
you have to kill people.
I don't think
I could ever kill anyone.
Could you?
Oh, there might not be a war.
What were you reading just now?
Nothing.
Weren't nothing.
I saw you reading.
I like reading.
Oh!
"Shakespeare's Sonnets."
They're poems.
I know what a sonnet is.
Shakespeare.
- He's good, he is.
- He wrote plays as well.
Greg, I ain't stupid.
Sorry.
We used to have to learn
poems in school.
I liked poetry.
I was good at it.
Not like sums and stuff.
Could never add up
to save my life.
But... poetry...
makes everything...
matter.
We used to have to learn poems.
Bright star,
would I were steadfast
as thou art.
Not in lone splendor
hung aloft the night.
And watching,
with eternal lids apart.
Like nature's patient,
sleepless Eremite.
John Keats.
"In a sweet unrest,"
still, still to hear
her tender-taken breath,
and so live ever
"or else swoon to death."
I love all that.
"Tender-taken breath."
The words are so pretty.
What's that?
What's it look like?
Where did you get it?
Borrowed it off a mate.
No, you didn't.
Colt Peacemaker.
Don't point that thing at me.
Ain't loaded.
I don't care
if it's loaded or not.
Don't point it at me.
What are you doing with my girl?
I'm not your girl.
You don't own me.
Oh, yes, I do.
What's yours is mine.
Go to hell, Jake.
One in six.
One in six.
What you reckon, eh?
You're mad, you are.
Yeah, maybe.
You haven't got the balls
to do it, have you?
See? Wouldn't have killed me.
I reckon the odds
are still the same.
They don't change, do they?
For however many times
you do it.
Always gonna be one in six.
Do you think there will be
a war, Mrs. Jackson?
- The boys might have to fight.
- No one's leaving the farm.
Will you miss him
if he had to go to war?
Right?
No one's going anywhere!
"And Cain talked
with Abel, his brother,"
and it came to pass
when they were in the field
that Cain rose up against Abel,
his brother,
and slew him.
And the Lord said unto Cain,
'Where is Abel, thy brother?'
And he said, 'I know not.
Am I my brother's keeper?'
"And he said,
'What hast thou...'"
I'll have that, thank you.
In your pocket.
What's in your pocket, Gregory?
Nothing.
Stand up.
Empty your pockets.
- Please...
- Now.
To the front.
- Please...
- Now.
- Another one for you, Frank?
- Not for me. Got work to do.
Work? This time of night?
You staying on
for a few more then, are ya?
You know me. Friday night.
I'll be here for a while.
Yeah.
I'll be seeing you then.
I'll have another one.
Who else is having one?
I shouldn't have asked,
should I?
One drink all around.
Come home safe, son.
For God's sake, Greg,
you're a farmer.
I'll be fine, Mother.
What do you know about fine?
There are plenty of young men
who can go off and fight.
I'm sorry.
I can't stay here.
Not now.
I have to go.
If you let him go...
He's not a child no more.
He can make up his own mind.
No, he can't!
- If you let my son go to war...
- Our son!
Greg's mine.
You had nothing to do with him.
Jake's yours.
Don't fall behind!
Like the bloody lambs...
If you lot are the best
our country can muster
in its hour of crisis,
God help the regiment,
and God help the country!
And what have we got here?
An honorable little nancy-boy?
Let me make one thing
abundantly clear.
The only thing you'll be
sticking up
another man's asshole
is the bayonet attached
to your Lee Enfield rifle!
And the only recipient
of such dubious pleasure
will be Jerry.
- And he's not Jerry, are you?
- No, sir.
And he's not Jerry either,
are you?
No, sir!
No, sir, no, sir!
- Do I make myself clear?
- Yes, sir.
- Loud and clear?
- Yes, sir!
Then stand up straight
like a soldier,
not a fucking nancy-boy
I'm not a nancy-boy, sir.
Are you contradicting me, laddy?
No, sir.
What are you then?
A nancy-boy, sir.
Louder!
A nancy-boy, sir!
I wanna hear what you are!
Louder!
A nancy-boy, sir!
Not in my fucking army,
you're not.
If I so much as see you
looking in the direction
of another man's asshole,
I'll personally ensure
you wish you hadn't been born.
- Do I make myself clear?
- Yes, sir.
Do I make myself clear?
Yes, sir!
You lot, stop bloody smirking
and move your asses
or Mr. Nancy-boy here will be
poking something up there!
Next two, en guard!
En guard!
Charge!
Next two, en guard!
- En guard!
- Charge!
Next two, en guard!
En guard!
Charge!
Next two, en guard.
- En guard!
- Charge!
Hey!
We will take prisoners.
Fire!
Does my breath smell?
No more than the rest of you.
You're soft in the
bleedin' head, you are.
Come on.
Get your stuff together.
We need to make a move.
- Flax?
- That's what the War Ags say.
This is a dairy farm, Frank.
I ain't never grown
no flax before.
They use the seeds
for linseed oil.
Good for waterproofing
and treating timber.
It's all part of the war effort,
as they say.
What about you then? You gonna
be growing this stuff and all?
Don't you worry about me.
I'm already doing my bit
for king and country.
What if I says no, eh?
What if I says
they can stick their flax?
What are these War Ags
gonna do then, eh?
They got powers, they have.
Oh, yeah?
And how come you know
so much about it?
How come you know so much
about these War Ags?
You're one of 'em,
aren't you, Frank?
Not content with
running your own farm,
you have to go
sticking your nose
into other people's affairs.
Like I said, Jacob, I'm just
doing my bit for England.
Look, I don't wanna make things
difficult between us.
I've always been very fond
of you and Margaret.
I'm just in the middle of
a great big chain, that's all.
They gives me my orders,
and I just pass them on.
I know.
It's just this bloody war.
What with Jake as he is now
and Greg gone...
Yeah, Margaret
is beside herself.
I spoke with Greg.
I told him he didn't have to go.
His mind was made up.
You told him that, did you?
Well, I knew just how much
it would break Maggie's heart
to have him gone.
Did you now?
It was him, wasn't it?
Frank.
It was him.
It was a long time ago, Jacob.
Oh, I can do
the adding up, Maggie.
I can work out exactly
how long ago it was.
Let's go, eh?
Come on then.
Monsieur, no.
I am your friend.
I bring you le petit djeuner.
Voil.
For you, English soldier.
Eat.
I am a miller. I make the flour.
All my own work.
Well, not quite.
My daughter,
she bakes the bread.
Christabelle.
This is not a good place
for you.
Germans are everywhere,
like rats.
Vermin.
It's good. Thank you.
She's very, uh, timid.
Thanks, sweetheart.
I thought the French
had all surrendered.
We're still bleeding
from the last war,
and the wounds are deep.
But we do what we can.
Some of us anyway.
We do our bit.
But you must go
when you've finished.
If you head due north,
you'll get to the coast.
It's only about
20 kilometers from here.
And then, when we get there?
You have more chance of survival
than you've got here.
And you?
I can take care of us.
Mmm.
Very good.
Oui!
No!
Bastard!
No!
Bastard!
Ehhh!
Two pints of the usual,
Janet, love.
Please.
Just having a pint
with my son, Frank,
if that's all right with you.
You don't have to stay
if you don't want to.
Not if you got work to be doing.
Like fucking my wife.
Easy does it.
I know.
You must have a pint, innit?
Where do you live?
The mill?
Where is the mill?
En... Moulin.
Is it just you and...
Moulin.
See? Wouldn't
have killed me.
I reckon the odds
are still the same.
They don't change, do they?
You're right.
You're right.
I haven't got the balls.
But you have.
You have.
You're mad.
Why would I wanna kill myself?
No. I don't mean
aim at you.
I want you to aim at me.
Why?
Bit of fun.
Come on, Greg.
Come on, Greg.
Do it for me.
Do it for me, Greg.
Do it.
One in six.
One in six.
Come on, Greg.
Do it for me.
Do it for me, Greg.
My uniform?
Of course.
Yes, thank you.
Why did you have to do it?
Why did you have to go
and do this to yourself, son?
Flax.
They want us to grow flax.
What the fuck do they know?
Fucking War Ags.
What do they know about farming?
We don't need them, do we, son?
We can run this fucking farm
on our own, eh?
Just the two of us.
You and me, right?
What do you reckon, son?
Time to call it a day?
I'm so sorry, son.
I'm sorry.
It might sting.
It's easy.
Come on, Greg.
Do it.
Do it for me, Greg.
How long have you
been here at the mill?
Just over a week.
Nine days, to be exact.
Burn your uniform, Gregory.
They're bringing
the new Fordson tomorrow.
Apparently this new model
is a sight easier to start
than the old one.
Never did like those
chilly mornings.
Neither do I, for that matter.
Flax is doing nicely
up in the top field.
I thought you
might like to know.
You will tell me if you need
anything, won't you, Maggie?
Right then, uh, I best be off.
Well, then,
see you tomorrow morning.
All being well.
Thank you.
Uh, merci.
Le pain?
Le pain.
Et merci pour le pomme.
La pomme.
Le pain, masculin.
La pomme, fminin.
And what's this?
Non. Vous tes cens dire.
Qu'est-ce?
Le qu'est-ce...
La qu'est-ce.
C'est une bche.
Une bche.
- Qu'est-ce?
- Un feu.
- Un feu.
- Oui.
- Qu'est-ce?
- Les flammes.
Les flammes.
Qu'est-ce?
Votre coeur.
Votre coeur.
Votre coeur, mon coeur.
Votre coeur, mon coeur.
Vous tes un tres bon lve.
Elve?
Elve.
Uh, tudiant, pupille.
Ah, pupille.
Yeah, it's the same
in English: pupil.
Qu'est-ce?
La bouche.
La bouche.
Le bouche? La bouche?
La bouche.
C'est fminin.
Fminin pour vous et pour moi.
Qu'est-ce?
Mes levres.
- Here, you must be thirsty.
- There you are.
You should've seen him.
Oh, not so rough, Jake.
Come on, chop-chop, ladies.
We've got lots of moving to do.
Here.
Are you thirsty?
More?
It ain't fair.
All us girls.
And nothing you can do about it.
Sorry, Jake.
I'd better get back to work.
Come on.
A bit of fresh air.
Christabelle.
Here, let me help.
Looks like you twisted
your handlebars.
What about me?
Ain't nothing wrong with
your handlebars, sweetheart.
Here.
Hey, look, your leg's bleeding.
Get your hands off me!
I'm medically trained, ma'am.
I don't care if
you're a bloody surgeon.
You're not touching me.
Okay, I'm sorry.
It's my fault
you fell off your bike.
I'll get your bike fixed up
free of charge and...
Look, and I promise
I'll never, ever whistle again.
Ever.
Ever, ever.
Cross my heart.
Shut up.
Nice buns.
It's true what they say
about you Americans, ain't it?
What do they say
about us Americans?
Overpaid, oversexed
and over here.
That's harsh.
We're not overpaid.
I'm Sam.
Sam Williams.
You know, I fly T-Bolts with the
outfit out of Steeple Morden.
You ever been in a Thunderbolt?
I could take you for a spin
if you like.
Or maybe you'd like
to come to the dance with me
on Saturday
at the town hall in Litlington.
We could go for a spin on
the dance floor, if you prefer.
Can you jitterbug?
I could show you all the moves.
Or maybe you got a few moves
of your own you could show me.
Greg?
Greg!
Non! S'il vous plait!
S'chapper!
S'chapper!
She's not here.
You know she's not.
Is this what you wanted?
You have to be
more careful, Greg.
It's got all the names,
all the codes.
It's all in here.
Is there anything else inside?
No.
Are you sure?
I wouldn't go in there.
There are explosives everywhere.
I laid them earlier.
Come, this way.
It's their dogs.
We need to move quickly.
Wake up, Greg.
We need to make more progress
tonight before it gets light.
Where are you taking me?
Just outside Beauvais.
It's about 50 kilometers
from here.
Beauvais?
There's a plane dropping off
a British agent.
There will be space for you
on the way back.
You're going home.
This is my home now.
No. You can't stay in France.
It's not safe here.
You know too much.
It's not safe for any of us
if you remain here.
You have to leave.
But Christabelle...
Christabelle is strong.
Believe me.
She is made out of
the same stuff as her father.
She will be fine.
She needs me.
Listen, my friend.
It's too late.
It will be over by now.
There's nothing you can do.
It's war, Greg.
And war is not kind.
Come on my signal.
Allez.
Come on, Greg.
I can't wait!
Allez!
I thought you were dead.
You never wrote...
or anything.
Not a word.
How could you do that to me?
My own son!
I thought you were dead.
Do it for me.
One in six.
One in six. Come on.
Do it for me.
Do it for me, Greg.
I've done it!
I've done it.
We've done it, Greg!
Greg, we've done it.
Greg!
No, Greg!
What are you...
What are you doing?
I'm so sorry, Jake.
You didn't deserve any of this.
"You are probably both wondering"
why I have chosen
to tell you this story
and why I have spared you
none of the unpleasant details.
About 20 years ago,
I made a shocking discovery.
I was adopted as a young child.
I came across the adoption
papers purely by chance,
when both my parents
were still alive.
But they had brought me up
with so much love
that I could never
bring myself to tell them
that I had discovered the secret
which they had decided
to keep from me.
But of course curiosity
is a very powerful thing.
I wanted to find out more,
and the more I found out,
the more I needed to know.
I was born in Abbeville in 1943
to a young French girl
who had been captured
by officers from
the Sicherheitsdienst.
Yes, of course
you realize now, don't you?
Her name was Christabelle.
She died in labor
in a basement of the town hall
which was being used
to interrogate
members of
the French Resistance.
But I... I had survived.
And by a stroke of good fortune,
I had blue eyes and blond hair,
a typical Aryan,
so I was taken as part of
the Nazi Lebensborn Program.
Six months later, I was adopted
by Wilhelm and Helga
Gutenberg, your grandparents.
Soon after Mama and Papa died,
I decided to travel to England
to find my birth father.
By then I already knew
his name was Gregory Jackson.
My journey took me
all the way to Manor Farm.
He was still there
farming the land,
although he was frail and weak.
Like Mama and Papa,
he had carried
the burden of his secret
throughout his life.
He told me everything.
His court-martial for desertion
and the dark days
he spent in prison
for his brother's death.
It all just poured out of him.
He even took me into
the barn to show me
where he had ended Jake's life.
I promised that I would
go back and see him again,
but as you know, my recent
illness has been debilitating.
I never made it back to England,
so in a way,
the story is incomplete.
Gregory Jackson,
your grandfather,
grew old in the belief
that brotherly love
was just a fanciful notion
which could never be a reality.
There is a chance,
a probability even,
that he is now dead.
But he may still be alive.
Go and see him, will you?
Go and show him that
he has two wonderful grandsons
who love each other
the way brothers should.
And tell him that you
both made me, his son,
the proudest man who ever lived.
Do it for him and you
and for me.
Finish the story.
"Your loving father."
"Subject to the payment
of my just debts,"
and funeral and
testamentary expenses,
I give, devise and bequeath
all my effects
and estates whatsoever,
including any property
over which I have a general
power of appointment by will,
to my trustees upon trust,
to my two beloved sons,
Kurt Ludwig Gutenberg
and Gustav Otto Gutenberg
in equal shares, absolutely.
Provided that if either of them
shall predecease me,
"leaving a child..."
None of that last bit
is relevant.
You're both alive, and there are
no grandchildren... yet.
So it couldn't be
more straightforward.
Everything is split
right down the middle.
Oh, and, uh...
there was... this.
- What is it?
- I have no idea.
- It's addressed to both of you.
- Thank you.
"My darling boys."
By the time you are
reading this, I will be gone,
but I wanted you to know
that you have both given me
so much joy in my life.
Not just watching you grow
as individuals,
but in the knowledge
that you both have
so much affection
for each other.
I think brotherly love
is a truly wonderful thing.
Do you remember
when you were both little
how we would sit together
in front of the fire
on rainy evenings,
and I would tell you stories?
And when I had finished,
you used to say,
"Papa, just one more."
Well, I have one final story
for you both.
So why don't you
pour yourself some beer, hmm?
I think you are
going to need it.
It all began in 1939,
on a little dairy farm
in England.
The farm was owned
by Jacob Jackson
and his wife Margaret.
"They had two sons,
Jake and Greg."
Throw you that.
Here.
Jake, get down!
I've told you before!
Jake, I said get down!
Just you wait till your father
hears about this.
That's enough, Jacob.
Not so rough, Jake!
You should learn
to treat a lady properly.
I'll have that, thank you.
Come on.
I ain't going up there.
Come on.
I suppose I'll just have
to come down and get you then.
You could've
killed yourself doing that.
But I didn't, did I?
Why didn't you have a go?
You don't wanna do it because
you haven't got the balls.
That's why, eh?
Have ya?
You ain't got
the balls to do it.
So where did the bike
come from, eh?
I borrowed it off a mate.
500. Vertical twin.
Very sweet.
Triumph Tiger.
And what mate might that be, eh?
He says he borrowed it, Jacob.
Just for the day.
It's Charlie Palmer's.
I'm giving it back tomorrow.
You're working here tomorrow,
that's what you're doing.
There's more than enough work
to be done
without you messing about
with motorbikes
that don't belong to you.
We're fixing the Fordson
tomorrow.
Magneto's not sparking.
Nothing the two of us
can't put right now, eh, Dad?
Get rid of it, Jake.
We can eat it.
Get rid of it.
I know how to skin it.
Dad showed me.
We'll see what your father
has to say, shall we?
Just a kitten.
He took your gun.
Not enough meat on it
to feed a sparrow,
let alone a family of four.
Sorry, old boy.
Dogs will like it.
What do you want?
Well, go on, have a look.
Stop it, Jake!
Well, he's not interested
in your tits, Sally.
He's a homo.
You're not a homo,
are you, Greg?
Made you jump.
You shouldn't
take notice of Jake.
He's daft.
I don't take any notice of him.
I don't believe
what he said about you.
I know you like girls.
I've seen you looking at me.
They say there's gonna be a war.
What will you do
if there's a war?
- There might not be.
- Of course there will!
Everyone says it's gonna happen.
What will you do?
Are you gonna fight?
They might call.
That's what they do, ain't it?
Come and get you,
make you sign up and all.
If you go to war,
you have to kill people.
I don't think
I could ever kill anyone.
Could you?
Oh, there might not be a war.
What were you reading just now?
Nothing.
Weren't nothing.
I saw you reading.
I like reading.
Oh!
"Shakespeare's Sonnets."
They're poems.
I know what a sonnet is.
Shakespeare.
- He's good, he is.
- He wrote plays as well.
Greg, I ain't stupid.
Sorry.
We used to have to learn
poems in school.
I liked poetry.
I was good at it.
Not like sums and stuff.
Could never add up
to save my life.
But... poetry...
makes everything...
matter.
We used to have to learn poems.
Bright star,
would I were steadfast
as thou art.
Not in lone splendor
hung aloft the night.
And watching,
with eternal lids apart.
Like nature's patient,
sleepless Eremite.
John Keats.
"In a sweet unrest,"
still, still to hear
her tender-taken breath,
and so live ever
"or else swoon to death."
I love all that.
"Tender-taken breath."
The words are so pretty.
What's that?
What's it look like?
Where did you get it?
Borrowed it off a mate.
No, you didn't.
Colt Peacemaker.
Don't point that thing at me.
Ain't loaded.
I don't care
if it's loaded or not.
Don't point it at me.
What are you doing with my girl?
I'm not your girl.
You don't own me.
Oh, yes, I do.
What's yours is mine.
Go to hell, Jake.
One in six.
One in six.
What you reckon, eh?
You're mad, you are.
Yeah, maybe.
You haven't got the balls
to do it, have you?
See? Wouldn't have killed me.
I reckon the odds
are still the same.
They don't change, do they?
For however many times
you do it.
Always gonna be one in six.
Do you think there will be
a war, Mrs. Jackson?
- The boys might have to fight.
- No one's leaving the farm.
Will you miss him
if he had to go to war?
Right?
No one's going anywhere!
"And Cain talked
with Abel, his brother,"
and it came to pass
when they were in the field
that Cain rose up against Abel,
his brother,
and slew him.
And the Lord said unto Cain,
'Where is Abel, thy brother?'
And he said, 'I know not.
Am I my brother's keeper?'
"And he said,
'What hast thou...'"
I'll have that, thank you.
In your pocket.
What's in your pocket, Gregory?
Nothing.
Stand up.
Empty your pockets.
- Please...
- Now.
To the front.
- Please...
- Now.
- Another one for you, Frank?
- Not for me. Got work to do.
Work? This time of night?
You staying on
for a few more then, are ya?
You know me. Friday night.
I'll be here for a while.
Yeah.
I'll be seeing you then.
I'll have another one.
Who else is having one?
I shouldn't have asked,
should I?
One drink all around.
Come home safe, son.
For God's sake, Greg,
you're a farmer.
I'll be fine, Mother.
What do you know about fine?
There are plenty of young men
who can go off and fight.
I'm sorry.
I can't stay here.
Not now.
I have to go.
If you let him go...
He's not a child no more.
He can make up his own mind.
No, he can't!
- If you let my son go to war...
- Our son!
Greg's mine.
You had nothing to do with him.
Jake's yours.
Don't fall behind!
Like the bloody lambs...
If you lot are the best
our country can muster
in its hour of crisis,
God help the regiment,
and God help the country!
And what have we got here?
An honorable little nancy-boy?
Let me make one thing
abundantly clear.
The only thing you'll be
sticking up
another man's asshole
is the bayonet attached
to your Lee Enfield rifle!
And the only recipient
of such dubious pleasure
will be Jerry.
- And he's not Jerry, are you?
- No, sir.
And he's not Jerry either,
are you?
No, sir!
No, sir, no, sir!
- Do I make myself clear?
- Yes, sir.
- Loud and clear?
- Yes, sir!
Then stand up straight
like a soldier,
not a fucking nancy-boy
I'm not a nancy-boy, sir.
Are you contradicting me, laddy?
No, sir.
What are you then?
A nancy-boy, sir.
Louder!
A nancy-boy, sir!
I wanna hear what you are!
Louder!
A nancy-boy, sir!
Not in my fucking army,
you're not.
If I so much as see you
looking in the direction
of another man's asshole,
I'll personally ensure
you wish you hadn't been born.
- Do I make myself clear?
- Yes, sir.
Do I make myself clear?
Yes, sir!
You lot, stop bloody smirking
and move your asses
or Mr. Nancy-boy here will be
poking something up there!
Next two, en guard!
En guard!
Charge!
Next two, en guard!
- En guard!
- Charge!
Next two, en guard!
En guard!
Charge!
Next two, en guard.
- En guard!
- Charge!
Hey!
We will take prisoners.
Fire!
Does my breath smell?
No more than the rest of you.
You're soft in the
bleedin' head, you are.
Come on.
Get your stuff together.
We need to make a move.
- Flax?
- That's what the War Ags say.
This is a dairy farm, Frank.
I ain't never grown
no flax before.
They use the seeds
for linseed oil.
Good for waterproofing
and treating timber.
It's all part of the war effort,
as they say.
What about you then? You gonna
be growing this stuff and all?
Don't you worry about me.
I'm already doing my bit
for king and country.
What if I says no, eh?
What if I says
they can stick their flax?
What are these War Ags
gonna do then, eh?
They got powers, they have.
Oh, yeah?
And how come you know
so much about it?
How come you know so much
about these War Ags?
You're one of 'em,
aren't you, Frank?
Not content with
running your own farm,
you have to go
sticking your nose
into other people's affairs.
Like I said, Jacob, I'm just
doing my bit for England.
Look, I don't wanna make things
difficult between us.
I've always been very fond
of you and Margaret.
I'm just in the middle of
a great big chain, that's all.
They gives me my orders,
and I just pass them on.
I know.
It's just this bloody war.
What with Jake as he is now
and Greg gone...
Yeah, Margaret
is beside herself.
I spoke with Greg.
I told him he didn't have to go.
His mind was made up.
You told him that, did you?
Well, I knew just how much
it would break Maggie's heart
to have him gone.
Did you now?
It was him, wasn't it?
Frank.
It was him.
It was a long time ago, Jacob.
Oh, I can do
the adding up, Maggie.
I can work out exactly
how long ago it was.
Let's go, eh?
Come on then.
Monsieur, no.
I am your friend.
I bring you le petit djeuner.
Voil.
For you, English soldier.
Eat.
I am a miller. I make the flour.
All my own work.
Well, not quite.
My daughter,
she bakes the bread.
Christabelle.
This is not a good place
for you.
Germans are everywhere,
like rats.
Vermin.
It's good. Thank you.
She's very, uh, timid.
Thanks, sweetheart.
I thought the French
had all surrendered.
We're still bleeding
from the last war,
and the wounds are deep.
But we do what we can.
Some of us anyway.
We do our bit.
But you must go
when you've finished.
If you head due north,
you'll get to the coast.
It's only about
20 kilometers from here.
And then, when we get there?
You have more chance of survival
than you've got here.
And you?
I can take care of us.
Mmm.
Very good.
Oui!
No!
Bastard!
No!
Bastard!
Ehhh!
Two pints of the usual,
Janet, love.
Please.
Just having a pint
with my son, Frank,
if that's all right with you.
You don't have to stay
if you don't want to.
Not if you got work to be doing.
Like fucking my wife.
Easy does it.
I know.
You must have a pint, innit?
Where do you live?
The mill?
Where is the mill?
En... Moulin.
Is it just you and...
Moulin.
See? Wouldn't
have killed me.
I reckon the odds
are still the same.
They don't change, do they?
You're right.
You're right.
I haven't got the balls.
But you have.
You have.
You're mad.
Why would I wanna kill myself?
No. I don't mean
aim at you.
I want you to aim at me.
Why?
Bit of fun.
Come on, Greg.
Come on, Greg.
Do it for me.
Do it for me, Greg.
Do it.
One in six.
One in six.
Come on, Greg.
Do it for me.
Do it for me, Greg.
My uniform?
Of course.
Yes, thank you.
Why did you have to do it?
Why did you have to go
and do this to yourself, son?
Flax.
They want us to grow flax.
What the fuck do they know?
Fucking War Ags.
What do they know about farming?
We don't need them, do we, son?
We can run this fucking farm
on our own, eh?
Just the two of us.
You and me, right?
What do you reckon, son?
Time to call it a day?
I'm so sorry, son.
I'm sorry.
It might sting.
It's easy.
Come on, Greg.
Do it.
Do it for me, Greg.
How long have you
been here at the mill?
Just over a week.
Nine days, to be exact.
Burn your uniform, Gregory.
They're bringing
the new Fordson tomorrow.
Apparently this new model
is a sight easier to start
than the old one.
Never did like those
chilly mornings.
Neither do I, for that matter.
Flax is doing nicely
up in the top field.
I thought you
might like to know.
You will tell me if you need
anything, won't you, Maggie?
Right then, uh, I best be off.
Well, then,
see you tomorrow morning.
All being well.
Thank you.
Uh, merci.
Le pain?
Le pain.
Et merci pour le pomme.
La pomme.
Le pain, masculin.
La pomme, fminin.
And what's this?
Non. Vous tes cens dire.
Qu'est-ce?
Le qu'est-ce...
La qu'est-ce.
C'est une bche.
Une bche.
- Qu'est-ce?
- Un feu.
- Un feu.
- Oui.
- Qu'est-ce?
- Les flammes.
Les flammes.
Qu'est-ce?
Votre coeur.
Votre coeur.
Votre coeur, mon coeur.
Votre coeur, mon coeur.
Vous tes un tres bon lve.
Elve?
Elve.
Uh, tudiant, pupille.
Ah, pupille.
Yeah, it's the same
in English: pupil.
Qu'est-ce?
La bouche.
La bouche.
Le bouche? La bouche?
La bouche.
C'est fminin.
Fminin pour vous et pour moi.
Qu'est-ce?
Mes levres.
- Here, you must be thirsty.
- There you are.
You should've seen him.
Oh, not so rough, Jake.
Come on, chop-chop, ladies.
We've got lots of moving to do.
Here.
Are you thirsty?
More?
It ain't fair.
All us girls.
And nothing you can do about it.
Sorry, Jake.
I'd better get back to work.
Come on.
A bit of fresh air.
Christabelle.
Here, let me help.
Looks like you twisted
your handlebars.
What about me?
Ain't nothing wrong with
your handlebars, sweetheart.
Here.
Hey, look, your leg's bleeding.
Get your hands off me!
I'm medically trained, ma'am.
I don't care if
you're a bloody surgeon.
You're not touching me.
Okay, I'm sorry.
It's my fault
you fell off your bike.
I'll get your bike fixed up
free of charge and...
Look, and I promise
I'll never, ever whistle again.
Ever.
Ever, ever.
Cross my heart.
Shut up.
Nice buns.
It's true what they say
about you Americans, ain't it?
What do they say
about us Americans?
Overpaid, oversexed
and over here.
That's harsh.
We're not overpaid.
I'm Sam.
Sam Williams.
You know, I fly T-Bolts with the
outfit out of Steeple Morden.
You ever been in a Thunderbolt?
I could take you for a spin
if you like.
Or maybe you'd like
to come to the dance with me
on Saturday
at the town hall in Litlington.
We could go for a spin on
the dance floor, if you prefer.
Can you jitterbug?
I could show you all the moves.
Or maybe you got a few moves
of your own you could show me.
Greg?
Greg!
Non! S'il vous plait!
S'chapper!
S'chapper!
She's not here.
You know she's not.
Is this what you wanted?
You have to be
more careful, Greg.
It's got all the names,
all the codes.
It's all in here.
Is there anything else inside?
No.
Are you sure?
I wouldn't go in there.
There are explosives everywhere.
I laid them earlier.
Come, this way.
It's their dogs.
We need to move quickly.
Wake up, Greg.
We need to make more progress
tonight before it gets light.
Where are you taking me?
Just outside Beauvais.
It's about 50 kilometers
from here.
Beauvais?
There's a plane dropping off
a British agent.
There will be space for you
on the way back.
You're going home.
This is my home now.
No. You can't stay in France.
It's not safe here.
You know too much.
It's not safe for any of us
if you remain here.
You have to leave.
But Christabelle...
Christabelle is strong.
Believe me.
She is made out of
the same stuff as her father.
She will be fine.
She needs me.
Listen, my friend.
It's too late.
It will be over by now.
There's nothing you can do.
It's war, Greg.
And war is not kind.
Come on my signal.
Allez.
Come on, Greg.
I can't wait!
Allez!
I thought you were dead.
You never wrote...
or anything.
Not a word.
How could you do that to me?
My own son!
I thought you were dead.
Do it for me.
One in six.
One in six. Come on.
Do it for me.
Do it for me, Greg.
I've done it!
I've done it.
We've done it, Greg!
Greg, we've done it.
Greg!
No, Greg!
What are you...
What are you doing?
I'm so sorry, Jake.
You didn't deserve any of this.
"You are probably both wondering"
why I have chosen
to tell you this story
and why I have spared you
none of the unpleasant details.
About 20 years ago,
I made a shocking discovery.
I was adopted as a young child.
I came across the adoption
papers purely by chance,
when both my parents
were still alive.
But they had brought me up
with so much love
that I could never
bring myself to tell them
that I had discovered the secret
which they had decided
to keep from me.
But of course curiosity
is a very powerful thing.
I wanted to find out more,
and the more I found out,
the more I needed to know.
I was born in Abbeville in 1943
to a young French girl
who had been captured
by officers from
the Sicherheitsdienst.
Yes, of course
you realize now, don't you?
Her name was Christabelle.
She died in labor
in a basement of the town hall
which was being used
to interrogate
members of
the French Resistance.
But I... I had survived.
And by a stroke of good fortune,
I had blue eyes and blond hair,
a typical Aryan,
so I was taken as part of
the Nazi Lebensborn Program.
Six months later, I was adopted
by Wilhelm and Helga
Gutenberg, your grandparents.
Soon after Mama and Papa died,
I decided to travel to England
to find my birth father.
By then I already knew
his name was Gregory Jackson.
My journey took me
all the way to Manor Farm.
He was still there
farming the land,
although he was frail and weak.
Like Mama and Papa,
he had carried
the burden of his secret
throughout his life.
He told me everything.
His court-martial for desertion
and the dark days
he spent in prison
for his brother's death.
It all just poured out of him.
He even took me into
the barn to show me
where he had ended Jake's life.
I promised that I would
go back and see him again,
but as you know, my recent
illness has been debilitating.
I never made it back to England,
so in a way,
the story is incomplete.
Gregory Jackson,
your grandfather,
grew old in the belief
that brotherly love
was just a fanciful notion
which could never be a reality.
There is a chance,
a probability even,
that he is now dead.
But he may still be alive.
Go and see him, will you?
Go and show him that
he has two wonderful grandsons
who love each other
the way brothers should.
And tell him that you
both made me, his son,
the proudest man who ever lived.
Do it for him and you
and for me.
Finish the story.
"Your loving father."