w*r Below, The (2021)

[bunniefuu]

September 1915.

The Great w*r. Supposed to end

before Christmas, the carnage drags on.

In the United Kingdom, able-bodied men

enlist to fulfill their duty.

Those who refuse to commit

are given a white feather,

a symbol of cowardice and treachery.

Morning Standard!

Get your Morning Standard!

Morning standard!

Get your Morning Standard.

Excuse me, sorry.

Dad! Dad!

- Henry, what are you doing here?

- My bit. Same as you.

There's a good lad. Come here.

Britain's finest.

In you come.

As you pass

me get your hats off!

Come on you cultural

cul de sacs.

Hurry up, the King's waiting and

he's paying for your medical.

Get a move on! Come on!

Hurry it up!

Medicals are waiting. The King

is paying for your time!

Move it out!

L... D... X.

THE w*r BELOW

Next!

Nice deep breaths, huh?

- Occupation.

- Accountant.

- For how many years?

- Man and boy.

I see.

Your lungs have a definite crackle, which

I'd suggest comes from inhaling too much

pencil dust over time.

Furthermore, there is an irregularity in

your heartbeat, genetic in all probability.

But I'm guessing that these

things you already know

and that this isn't

your first time applying.

I can do it, sir.

I just want to do my bit.

I'd say you already are doing

your bit, wouldn't you?

Those at the bottom can do just

as much as those at the top.

The w*r office deems it necessary

that every man fits a set of criteria,

and I must abide by those rules.

- There's no shame in it.

- I understand that, sir.

- But all I'm asking is for the same chances.

- Next.

- Age.

- 25.

I promise to obey the authority.

Of all generals and officers set over me.

And serve until the conclusion of w*r.

God save the King.

- Dad!

- Well, spit it out.

Yeah, they said I could go.

No, you keep it.

You're a man now.

Here, take this!

The phone line's out!

Communications 113. Utmost

importance! Do you understand?

- They're opening up again, sir!

- Go! Now!

And Private, tell the...

Keep going. Move.

Stretcher bearer!

There's more coming!

Hold off positions

for counter-att*ck.

- What are you doing here, private?

- Message from position 23, sir.

HQ! Position two-nine-nine.

The infantry have failed

to break the forward line.

The German trenches have not been taken.

Repeat, the German trenches

have not been taken.

- Number of casualties?

- 40,000 estimated.

How can that be?

Seven days, seven days,

We threw everything

at their lines.

- How many shells?

- 1,500,000, sir.

1,500,000.

And yet you sit there and tell

me it didn't even make a dent.

Initial reports are the Germans

dug their bunkers

20 or maybe 30 feet

below ground cover.

With respect, sir,

at that depth,

all the a*tillery in the world

wouldn't reach them.

- So it would seem.

- The plans are in place to pull back the line...

- And lose ground. No.

- Sir.

We shall not give our

enemies one foot of soil.

Is that understood?

To do so, gentlemen, would be

to give them belief.

And belief is one of the most

important aspects in w*r,

belief in duty,

belief in one's own ability.

- Belief in victory.

- General, we cannot sustain the line indefinitely.

- We need...

- A decisive next att*ck.

I agree, sir.

The Germans know the British

are the best army in the world.

Their morale will surely

dip with more sustained att*cks.

- Sir, if I may.

- If you must, Jack.

We need to be decisive,

that much is correct.

But to break the German line we need to

do something new, something different,

something the hun

will never see coming.

And you'd have such a thing...

would you?

Yes, sir. I believe I do.

Merton & Fils Company,

tunnel and gallery construction, England

His Lordship's

waiting for you, sir.

Thank you.

My answer is respectfully, no.

You do realize what losing these men would

do to my production levels, don't you?

Well, you can see from your remittance,

you'll be fairly compensated.

Maybe I should decide

what you consider fair.

- Understand, this is an important time of year for us.

- Indeed.

Important time

of year for Britain.

Don't pull that king's

officer rubbish with me.

We're all doing our bit.

So until there's a better offer,

I'm a busy man.

You know,

you're absolutely right.

We're all doing our bit.

Boys on the front line,

the men and women in the forges and mills.

And... whatever it is

you do exactly.

You know, there's one thing I despise

more than the enemy, Mr. Rogers.

It's those who climb on the backs of

the fallen and claim to be patriots.

I seem to remember

a few months ago,

pompous jumped up little man

in charge of his own fiefdom.

He thought he was above the w*r

so we decided to give him a closer

look at it.

If you catch my drift.

So it's a good job.

There's people such as yourself

who understand that the British

need to pull together

- in their time of need.

- Quite.

So I'm going to respectfully

request that you give your country

what it bloody well asks of you.

Once the paperwork is signed,

our office will ensure the receipt

in a couple of weeks. Anything that's

still unclear...

I understand that this is somewhat irregular,

but I have some matters of great importance

to discuss with you.

I'm sorry, would you mind?

That's more like it.

Don't let the papers

fool you, gentlemen.

We are losing this w*r.

And unless we take dramatic

action, I'm afraid we will forfeit.

Look, That pinstripe pillock's

probably docking our pay for this.

So can you just get on with it?

All right...

your country needs you.

All right.

While you enjoyed those few

seconds laughing, one of our boys

was hit in the head

by a Fritz sn*per.

Somebody's father was pulverized

by a mortar b*mb.

And someone, perhaps a friend of yours,

had his guts ripped open by shrapnel.

I enjoy a joke as much as the next

man, gentlemen, but if I may...

...I would like to share with

you the situation we are in.

Gather around.

This is the Somme.

These markers here are the Allied lines.

This, the German front.

Now, the Germans have built

bunkers 30 feet below ground level,

and we've thrown everything

we've got at them and nothing,

for it's as likely

to be injured slipping on

sauerkraut is he is

from one of our bombs.

And of course

when the bombardment ends,

up he pops, starts using

our boys for target practice.

Morale in France is at rock bottom,

and with our new campaign in Flanders,

we need a decisive victory,

something that will show our chaps

this w*r is

still there to be won.

Sorry, Bob, still don't see

what this has to do with us.

With these deep hidey holes,

Fritz is a tough nut to cr*ck from above.

- But there is one other option.

- Dig.

Precisely.

We're going to tunnel

under no man's land.

Blow the enemy to Kingdom Come.

Our initial target

is this forward bunker here,

obstinate little bastard hell-bent

on slaughtering our boys.

With our first tunnels,

we've been unsuccessful.

They barely last

a day without collapsing.

What's ground made from?

Clay.

Quite frankly,

we don't have the expertise.

But you men do, there's

a platoon waiting in Salisbury.

Your job is to teach them

how to tunnel the clay

and how to set the charges.

So, um... how long we got, sir?

- One month.

- Jesus Christ.

And then the platoon has another

three to get the job done in France.

- No.

- Well, I'm sorry, but that's all the time we have.

I know they won't

get the job done.

- What's your name?

- William Hawkin, sir.

Well then Mr. Hawkin...

...if you've something to say,

now's the time.

Well, I've not met that many

clerks or bank managers in me time,

but I doubt any of them

can tunnel that fast.

With the constant risk of collapse,

and come out the other end,

we've been

tunneling all our lives,

there's still always risk.

No. You want

your big explosions, sir,

you should think again.

Very well, what do you propose?

I propose we go in that place.

- Are you prepared to do that?

- I.

Good lads,

I'll take this to General Haig.

We'll get you

to Flanders in no time.

Thank you, sir.

Well, you better

get back to work.

Preposterous!

Sir, if you would just

allow me to explain.

Something the Germans

wouldn't see coming.

I didn't realize that meant putting

our w*r effort into the hands

of uneducated,

untrained civilians.

These men may not

be soldier material.

I grant you that, sir,

but they don't have to be,

they just have to dig.

And by Jove can they dig.

Why, only last year...

Burrow through to Australia

for all I care.

This is a m*llitary operation, Jack,

not some... some social experiment.

If it goes belly up,

the whole w*r effort is over.

- Do you understand that?

- I must confess, I too had my reservation.

The infantry will break through.

We just need to keep

pushing, pushing, pushing.

- But at what cost, sir?

- A w*r of nations is a w*r of numbers.

We have the numbers

and we will outlast the Germans.

That's how we win.

The answer is no.

- You're dismissed, Colonel.

- With the greatest respect, sir,

this is no longer

the age of the horse.

This is the age of the t*nk.

The old ways are dead

and we must change, and quickly,

or we'll have

another song on our hands,

and the stench of blood will

reach all the way to England.

Lloyd George won't stand for

that, General. Heads will roll.

You have a very promising

career ahead of you, Colonel.

- Think very carefully.

- I already have, sir.

This is our best

and only option, I assure you.

You'd personally vouch

for these sewer workers...

...would you?

Yes, sir, I would. And if

they're not up to the job,

strip me of my commission and send me to the

front line, but just give me 4 months, sir.

You'll have

all the proof you need.

Very well, two months

and not a moment more.

- Sir, may I just say...

- Decision has been made, Archie.

Jack and his men will

fall under your command.

- Then I would like it on record...

- Duly noted.

Thank you

for your assistance, both.

Keep me posted.

And Jack, for God's sake,

don't bugger it up,

Sir.

If you want to bring these

cave dwellers to the front,

then on your own head be it that you

keep them on course, keep them in line.

And keep them out of my way.

- Understand?

- Perfectly, sir.

Two months,

that's all it'll take.

One b*llet is all it will take.

You're going to miss

Mother's birthday.

She can go with me to scare

the boche half to death.

Jane...

...it's my duty

and responsibility.

Responsibility is

to be here with your family.

Why you? Don't they have miners

over there or something?

It's not as simple as that,

they need people who can dig the clay.

They called us experts,

they did.

I'll be useful for once.

No more putting up with old Rogers

when I get back, I can tell you.

The army will probably give me a new

job, a proper job. And the money...

You're a bloody fool at times.

There's no shame in doing

what you do, a clueless busybody

- with a white feather doesn't know a damn thing about you.

- Jane!

I'm not doing this blindly.

Everything I care about

is in this house.

And I'm protecting this house.

I can't bear to think

what would happen if I didn't.

I'll make you proud of me.

I promise.

It seems like every week I know

another wife with a brave,

dead husband

that she can be proud of.

No, I'll go.

How's the infantry doing?

Do you need a hand with that?

Are you coming back?

Of course I am.

what makes you say that?

Uncle David didn't.

It's not the same, son.

Uncle David

was made to do something

he hadn't done before,

and it went wrong.

He was unlucky.

That's not like me. I'm going

there to dig, that's all.

- Just dig.

- You're good at digging?

Aye, I am. So you see,

there's no need to worry.

I can't get it to stay.

Well, let's see what

we can do about that, shall we?

Are you going to ride a horsey?

No, I'll be in a special unit,

top-secret.

I'll have my own uniform

and everything.

- You can wear it if you like.

- Any medals?

Loads of them. By the time I come home

I'll be half man, half tea kettle.

There you go.

All done.

Flanders, 1916

Nice and easy, boys,

come on, get on.

Move along.

Excuse us, pal,

we just got here.

All right,

good for for you. And?

We have no sodding idea

where we're going.

You got papers?

Ah! You're with

Hellfire Jack, yes?

- Who?

- Colonel Norton-Griffiths.

Up in section three.

Section three!

Come on, I'll show you boys.

Trench system is simple enough.

It's made out of three main lines: the

reserve, the support the f*ring line.

These are

the communication trenches.

They connect the lines.

This is the reserve.

Here you can rest up, relax.

Oh aye, looks very relaxing.

We're coming up

to the support line now.

Christ, what's that smell?

- Dirty bastard.

- Oh sod off.

It's a mixture of sh*t,

piss, cordite and decomposition.

Like no other, eh. Don't worry.

You get used to it

after a while.

Cheerio, chum.

The Fritz seem

a bit feisty this morning.

You all right, youth?

Don't worry.

You'll get used to it.

And here we are.

So this is the Great w*r.

All the water is chlorinated.

Tastes a bit strange at first.

Yeah. I know,

I'll get used to it.

All right. Thank you, captain.

I'll take it from here.

Bill, glad you all made it.

- Yeah.

- I think some of them are starting to wish they hadn't.

Well, you're here now,

so let's cr*ck on,

see if we can't get you

all back to Blighty.

Here, come look at this.

Hey, Harold,

I've got to go, you know.

Tie a bloody knot in it,

can you not hold it in?

Not unless you want me

to hold it in my trousers, no.

All right,

just be bloody quick then.

- Here, take a look, 12 o'clock.

- What are we looking at?

Not much to look at, is it?

But that's our lady nonetheless.

About 350 yards from where

we're standing right now.

Used to be a farmhouse,

now the boche are using it

as a forward machine g*n post,

dug in deep underneath.

- Officer approaching!

- Now, look sharp.

Sir.

Jack.

So...

...this is your little

rabble then, is it?

They are indeed, sir.

My clay kickers.

What in God's green

earth am I looking at here?

Get on your feet, boy! And you get

off that wall, stand still, stand up!

Wearing the King's uniform,

act like it.

Your village missing an idiot

and now you're here, is it?

Shut your mouth. The enemy will die

laughing before you can sh**t them.

sh*t.

- Name.

- Hawkin. William Hawkin, sir.

And you'd be in charge of this,

this bunch then, would you, Hawkin?

- Yes, sir. I am, sir.

- Jolly good.

You shall be held accountable

for their actions then. Hmm?

Just keep them away

from the real soldiers, Jack.

We don't want the sideshow

to become a circus now.

- Sir, with respect.

- Shut your mouth!

You don't speak till the officer

speaks to you, do you understand?

- Yes, sir.

- It's not "sir," it's "s'arnt."

- Yes, s'arnt.

- Sure it won't be a problem, sir?

Good show.

- Excuse me, mate.

- Mate? Mate?

I don't remember hanging about with you,

I don't remember going to school with you!

- Mate? I'm a s'arnt, say it!

- S'arnt.

- Say it louder!

- S'arnt.

You thing!

Once again, Jack,

excellent men you have here.

- Only the very best, sir.

- Hmm.

Some stupid bastard, thinks this lot

is going to hold up ten tonne of shite.

- I guess thinking wasn't needed at Eton.

- No.

32 degrees for the first 100,

minus ten up next.

- A lot of ground to cover.

- We better shift our asses then, hadn't we?

Wouldn't want to be on

a charge now, would we Harker?

You are our keeper,

O Lord, you are.

Oh, knock it off, lad, you think

he's listening out here?

It's a tradition.

Go on then, Saint George.

Deliver us from evil,

keep our souls.

Shorty.

My dearest Jane...

...every time I write to you,

I fear my stories

are just a spinning carousel,

our life continues.

We dig the clay.

And the work can suck the life

from your bones

if you're not careful.

The days when it's quiet,

I forget,

I think I'm just digging

a sewer tunnel back home.

I think I'm going

to end my day with you.

When we climb back up, I

remember what our home is now.

It's strange the things

you get used to,

the rats, the stench.

There are too many

things that I want to forget.

My heart sinks that the other

men take us for cowards.

That we hide

from the fighting down here.

I want them to know what we do.

To see us as true soldiers.

But we are once again

on our own.

The w*r to end all wars, it is

what I believe we're here for.

So I shall do my part,

my duty...

...and then I'll come

home to you.

Take care of yourself

and our boy.

All my love forever.

William.

Been here two months.

Feel like I'm 60 odd.

Could be worse.

- How's that then?

- I don't know.

Just what people say, isn't it.

Come on, lads.

Time's wasting.

Ah!

Fritz bastard goes

for me every damn day.

Who the hell wants to sh**t someone

when they're on the crapper?

Anyone who knows you?

If it weren't him,

it'd be somebody else.

Don't take it personal, we'll be

out of this soon enough.

- How long have we got left anyway?

- 40, 45 yards to go.

Get these coordinates spot on.

Light it up, we'll be on our way.

And that's the 200.

All right. Dig out caverns,

set bombs, and job done.

- Oh Jesus Christ.

- Keep sucking on it, it'll break up.

It's like them things that you give

babies, but made of concrete.

They're dog biscuits.

You what? These are not

bloody dog biscuits.

I've been eating these things

since I got here.

I'm telling you. Had staffies

since I was a nipper, so I know.

It's true, we did.

Nasty little buggers, they were.

They just had good taste is all.

And this is a dog biscuit.

Bloody hell. That were close.

That were close.

Christ, it's going to break!

Brace the walls!

sh*t!

Get back!

Move now!

Everyone all right?

George?

Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine.

Charlie, you okay?

Charlie?

No, I'm not.

It were too close this time.

Too bloody close.

Good job you were doing

all that praying, hey, Georgie.

Still alive, aren't you?

This is what you imagined

it would be like, Bill?

I don't know what I imagined.

Not for me.

I got a postcard

from Maggie this morning.

She said the Goose Fair just

started in town. She saw those...

...those toffee apple stalls

and everything.

I used to go every year

without fail.

Wish I was this year.

Sounds like a lot of fun.

We'll go next year,

Charlie, all of us will.

Yeah, yeah, I'd like that.

So how the hell do you know

what a dog biscuit tastes like?

- You never tried one?

- No, I'm not a dog.

Well you have now

because these are dog biscuits.

- Bill, what do you think?

- I think this won't clear itself. Come on.

Cheer up.

We're nearly on our way home.

Enter.

Bill.

The only news

I want is good news.

I believe

we've reached the location, sir.

Directly beneath

the German maxim.

Well done.

We'll conceal the detonation

with one of the mortar att*cks.

- HQ is getting me the schedule as we speak.

- Aye, sir.

Sir, is there anywhere

to double-check the coordinates?

We don't want

to miss our only chance.

Of course. I'll get someone

on to it right now.

All right.

Baker, Marshall, I've got a job for

you, two. No man's land, tonight.

Easy. Easy.

Will you shut the hell up, how

many times have I done this?

Hey, Woodsy,

can you smell something?

Oh, bloody sewers.

I'm getting sick

of the attitude.

I don't get it.

Put yourself in their boots.

They don't know who we are.

- Let me tell you a story about Private King.

- No, let's not.

Oh!

Oh, you cheeky bastard.

Private King, yeah.

Hey. Private King.

He's a 19-year-old lad.

New to the front. Part of a

troop moving between trenches.

They were out for hours

marching, full pack.

Suddenly, King needs to take a

crap, right, proper desperate, yeah?

So he says to his CO.

The CO is like, "Yeah, fine,

just catch us up after."

He goes off, does his business.

Night is creeping in.

He's in the forest.

Sets off after his troop.

Wrong bloody direction.

In the morning...

...soldiers pick him up,

arrest him.

For desertion?

Aye.

He protests his innocence.

"I was having a crap.

I was having a crap, ask my CO."

Only problem is...

...the CO is dead, isn't he?

German sn*per clocked him an hour before.

So with no one to vouch for his story, court

martial instantly returned a guilty verdict.

Then it's a blindfold, b*llet,

unmarked grave. Gone.

Christ. That's no way to be remembered,

for everyone to think you're a coward.

No. May as well just walk out into no man's

land and have the boche do it for you.

At least then you get

called a hero. Get a medal.

Hey. So if them regular tommies

want to hate us, I say fine.

Because on one side, they got

maxim g*ns pointed at them.

On the other, mad bastards who

would rather execute a kid

than believe he needed

to take a sh*t.

How many medals

do you think we'll get?

They don't give medals

for likes of us.

No. They give them

to general's runners,

ass lickers. Them folk.

You're all having me on

aren't you?

It's like back home, the bottom

people do all the work.

Top brass take all the credit.

And then... well, when it goes right.

- What if it goes wrong?

- It's a two way street, lad.

Praise goes up, sh*t comes down.

That's just the way of life.

You know,

if all you can do is your best.

That's all you can do.

You're a poet, you know that?

- Bill. Those coordinates correct?

- Aye. Hellfire sent two chaps

out into no man's land

and they came back correct.

Jolly good, Harker.

The mortar att*ck is scheduled

from 7:20 until 7:30.

- It should give you plenty of time.

- Plenty, sir.

Excellent.

Excellent. Billy, you do realize

what you're about to do, don't you?

Well, we'll let you know

when we've done it, sir.

Good show. Good show.

All right.

The bloody hell's that noise?

You been living under a rock?

Poor sod got sent on some su1c1de mission

looking for machine g*n posts.

He's been stuck out there

for nearly two days now.

I thought they came back.

One of them did.

Morning, chaps.

- Where's Bill?

- What are you doing?

What does it look like?

Don't be so bloody stupid, man.

All right, Private Stockford,

you're up.

- Well, come on!

- Sir, yes, sir!

If you go up there

you are a dead man!

Do you understand?

This is madness.

Wait!

Help me, please.

All right, lad,

we're gonna get you down.

Watch out. All right, all right.

You should get yourself checked

for insanity, old boy.

- That's just for the COs, mate.

- Bravo.

Following this morning's

mission...

...HQ has deemed it necessary

for the mining effort to expand.

We will continue on

to the Messines as... as planned.

Jolly good news, sir.

Quite.

You wanted me, sir.

Yes, Hawkins, just a moment.

Well then.

Carry on, Jack.

Harker.

So we're expanding the tunnels

to the Messines ridge?

That's right.

No concern of yours anymore.

The ridge is over

1,000 feet away.

Thanks to you and your men we

have the know-how to get it done.

There's new mining teams

being trained back home.

With what experience?

Sending the wrong men down there without

the right skills would be irresponsible.

Irresponsible, is it?

What the bloody hell do you call your

performance out there this morning?

Saving a man's life.

What a soldier's supposed to do.

Soldiers follow direct

orders given to them.

They don't saunter

into no man's land

in the hope

of being labeled a hero.

The boy was out there

because of us,

checking our coordinates.

What would you have me do?

Men die every day

doing what we tell them.

It's not pretty, it's necessary.

They run into no man's land,

they fight and they die for each other,

not for a slap on the back

or a medal on the chest.

Perhaps it's a good job

you're leaving.

You've done your bit, bill.

It's time to go home.

I'll put a word in

for you and your men.

We checked the tunnel.

There's some

faint sounds scraping.

It looks like the Germans

are digging now, too.

- Harry, where's your bag?

- Didn't see point in bringing it.

Logistics are saying the trains

might be held up.

There's some commotion

with the froggies

taking on the ones meant for us.

Oh well. We'll just have to

entertain ourselves then, yeah?

Three bloody hours.

Calm down, Charlie.

It will turn up.

I've known you

for 20 years, Bill.

And I can read you

like a half-penny Marvel.

- And?

- I know when you're going to say it's time to dig

and when it's time for a brew. But I also know

when you're going to say job's not done yet.

- Job's not done.

- Whoa. Hellfire said we're done.

- Said we did our bit.

- I know, Shorty.

Without us, those tunnels

are going to fail.

Without the tunnels

there's no b*mb,

no b*mb means years more

of the same sh*t

and thousands more men dying.

- Maybe even us losing the w*r.

- We don't know that.

Yeah. Yeah, we do, lad.

It's a good job

I didn't bring my kit, eh, Bill?

Wait, Harry?

Where are you going?

Bloody hell.

Hellfire said they got a whole

new team of miners down there now.

Showed them how to cut the clay.

And you trust them to get

the job done, do you?

If your life, your family's life

depended on it,

you trust them to get it done?

I don't think I can.

- What's going on?

- Bill's gone mad.

Harry's gone back to the front.

You just trying to prove

something to these people?

That Fielding?

Sod Fielding. Sod Haig.

This is about all the men

they don't care about.

The ones like us.

Now, I hope to God no one ever has

to see a place like this again.

But to do that

the job's got to be finished,

and I believe we're

the only ones can do it.

Shorty?

- Oh, Jesus Christ.

- You're not really thinking it.

Bill, Bill, I want to go home.

- I just want to go home.

- Then go home, Charlie.

You don't owe anyone anything.

None of you do.

- What if we did stay?

- George!

I'm just saying.

It's going to take

six months to dig that tunnel.

- The Germans know we're coming.

- Aye.

Aye. I know, George.

No, no, this is daft.

We're here. We're going home.

If the bloody train

ever sodding shows up.

You know what I'm going to say.

You've got to be joking.

We're not staying.

George, please.

You don't have to come back.

I'm sure they'd understand.

See you, Charlie.

I'm not staying.

Bunch of idiots.

My darling Jane.

I know each month

I say I'm closer to home.

But w*r makes us break promises.

And the truth is,

I'm even farther from it.

These past few months,

time has ground by.

- Messines Trench, March 1917, four months later

- Our new tunnels inch closer to the German lines

to the biggest expl*si*n

in history.

And I know it's only

us can make it happen.

The work is slow.

We constantly listen out for the German

tunnels and pray they don't find us.

They say when a soldier dies,

he becomes a patriot.

As the w*r goes on,

it seems I know

more and more patriots.

- Anything?

- Guess I must be hearing...

Excuse me, Madam.

I'm afraid I have some rather bad

news to deliver, your husband.

Do you need a chair?

I can go inside.

Mrs. Brown?

- No.

- No, you don't want a chair?

No, I'm not Mrs. Brown.

I'm Mrs. Hawkin. Sarah Brown

lives at number four.

Oh my word.

I'm ever so sorry. Uh...

Let me just, um,

yes, it says 14.

I am so, so sorry.

Um... thank you for your time.

Sorry.

Field Marshal Haig in his infinite

wisdom has given us a date.

- Seventh of June, it's three months from now.

- Three months?

But with the way things are going, we're

not even getting half our usual distance.

- It's non-negotiable, I'm afraid.

- It's too crowded down there.

Since the Germans joined in the fun,

we've had a team running into them

near enough every bloody day.

We're spending more time

dodging them than we are

actually moving forward.

All right.

So we go deeper.

Below the blue clay line where the

boche won't even think to follow.

We can't do it, sir.

Our current location

is here. Messines here.

If we dig deeper that'll take us to here,

that's 300-foot extra ground to cover.

- There's just not enough time.

- Yes, but staying here is su1c1de.

Sooner or later every team

runs into a German gallery.

I've lost eight in the past week,

I don't want to lose a ninth.

Neither do I.

But if we work any harder,

they'll be nothing left of us to lose.

Only thing we can do

is stay the course

and hope we get lucky.

Luck's not something I like

to hang my hat on, old boy.

Here, take this.

Just in case.

Bill... if this is successful...

...it could change the face of the w*r,

no more stalemates, no more trenches,

we march to Berlin.

You could be the man

to achieve that.

You all right, Charlie?

Yeah, not heard from Maggie

for a couple of weeks.

Just getting a bit

worried about her.

I'm sure she's fine.

Just busy that's all.

She runs the plant

as much as Rogers does.

Yeah, I guess so.

Funny, though, isn't it?

What is?

Well, when you're at home...

...getting a letter,

it don't mean nothing, really.

But out here.

You know.

Next time I see the postman on Applegate

Street, I'm going to shake his hand.

I really am.

You think I'm being stupid

about it, don't you?

No.

Of course not.

I think I really love her.

Another day in the sun, gents.

Get the stuff.

Move!

As much as I hate to say it,

you were right.

I'll get that in writing, shall I? How

much deeper do you think you need to go?

Well, if we're going to get under

them, it will need to be over 100 feet.

- But with that, there's going to be new problems.

- Such as?

The deeper down we go, the more the

composition of the ground will change.

Also, we're below sea level. And then

there's all the stuff I can't predict.

Cave-ins. Oxygen drop outs.

And we'll need canaries

in case of gas pockets.

Can you do it in time?

I don't know. We're the only crew that can.

We're working every hour God sends.

We could do with him

sending us a few more.

Focus all your energies

on a single tunnel.

Increase shift times. You have to do

it, just with less shut-eye.

Right lads, up we get. Beauty

sleep is wasted on the ugly.

Bloody hell, Bill, we've only

just got us heads down.

- We're here to do a job.

- I never wanted to sodding be here in the first place.

Listen, Bill.

They've been working solid.

They need a rest.

- And so do you.

- And we can have as long as we want when job's done.

- Only a couple more weeks.

- Look at them.

Look. They're on the verge of collapsing,

you'd never do this back at home.

We're not at home, are we?

Like Hellfire says,

"We do this, the w*r's over."

Come on. Five minutes

and we're at the face.

One more bag, nearly there.

Did anyone feel something?

Shh.

I thought I heard a cr*ck.

You all right?

George, no!

Medic! Medic!

Bastard!

You'll bloody k*ll us,

I warned you!

Get off me! Get off me!

They will bloody sh**t you.

You see, this is what you get

when you let common sewer

workers play at being soldiers.

It's nothing to be concerned about, sir.

They're just overworked.

Oh, we're all overworked.

A lack of discipline

is a lack of discipline.

No ifs, no buts.

I'm a busy man, Jack.

So you and your underground trolls

here can apologize for wasting my time.

This troll's name

is Private Stockford.

And with all due respect, sir,

you can shove your little stick

up your plumy little ass.

- Get off!

- Sergeant!

Take him and him

for field punishment number one.

- Insubordination.

- Sir! You!

Get up on your feet.

Get on your feet.

Get over there.

You, face that way.

Face that way. Stand

to attention. Stand next to him.

Double it away. Quick march!

Hike up, hike up, hike up,

hike up, hike up,

hike up, hike up,

hike up, hike up.

Left, right, left, right, left,

right, left, right, left, right, yeah.

Detail! Halt!

Hawkin. On that door facing me. Go.

Stockford. By that door, facing me, go.

- Turn around. Private. Tie him up.

- S'arnt.

Hawkin, hold your hands out

in front of me.

- Make sure it's tight, boy.

- S'arnt.

- Ready?

- S'arnt.

Raise!

- Fall back.

- S'arnt.

Detail. About turn.

Quick. March. Left, right, left.

We'll be back in the morning.

That pompous prat with a stick.

Is that the type of man we're

supposed to get respect from is it?

- Oh give it a bloody rest, will you?

- I'm being serious.

When I'm 100 feet underground trying me

best not to be burnt alive or crushed,

- I just want to know what it's all for.

- We don't work for him, do we?

- We work for Hellfire.

- I don't work for him.

I don't trust him, I bloody well

work for you, and I did trust you.

When have I ever lied to you?

You're lying to yourself now.

That great victory you're waiting

for, not going to happen.

This w*r is just going to trundle

along no matter what we do,

and the only reason you're here is so that

when people ask what happened back at home,

- you can hold your bloody head high.

- That's bollocks, that.

Is it? Is it?

I've lived long enough to know that the

only person that can really judge you

is the one that's in your

own bloody boots, Bill.

All I'm saying is that, those

that know you, they respect you.

They know what you put on the line.

I'm talking about Peter and Jane.

And me.

Sometimes. When you're not being

a bloody pigheaded moron.

Hurts, doesn't it, Hawkin?

Yes, sir.

The army doesn't tolerate

insubordination

under any circumstances.

I however admire a man who

stands for what he believes in.

Who doesn't leave a man

in the field to die alone.

You breathe a word

of this to anybody

and I'll have

your guts for garters.

And you'll be

on latrine duty for a month.

Yes, s'arnt.

- Hellfire say what he wants, s'arnt?

- You'll see soon enough.

Think that'll work

on the Germans?

Not a chance.

We've run out of sausage.

Uh-huh.

Well.

Ah. Thank you, s'arnt. Carry on.

All right, chaps.

Bit of R&R

before the final push.

Haven't got the time

for a week in Bognor,

so this will have to suffice.

I think we're more

the football type, sir.

Here.

- W.G. Grace gave me that.

- W.G. who?

- Greatest cricketer of all time.

- Is that a good thing, is it?

Yes, it is. You wicket.

Harold, no smoking

on the field of play.

All right, just stand there

and catch it.

Hawkin, go long, George in,

right, who wants to bowl?

- What?

- He's asking who wants to lob a ball at CO.

No!

- I didn't mean it!

- Mail for Private MacDonald.

- Which one?

- C.

Yes,

about damn time she wrote to me.

All right, George. You're in bat.

Try and use the right end.

- Send it, son. Go on.

- Legs together, George, legs together.

Oh!

That's it. Get it, bowler, get

him out, come on. Get him out!

Oh. Well done.

- Well that's it then, that's a quick game this cricket...

- Charlie!

Charlie! Hey, Charlie!

Charlie!

Charlie! Hey!

Charlie!

- Charlie! No! Charlie!

- Out of my way! Out of my way!

What the bloody hell

are you doing man,

get down! Get down!

- Jesus Christ.

- No!

Charlie! Charlie!

No, no, Charlie!

Charlie!

No! Charlie!

Oh, Lord.

My dearest Jane.

I'm writing to you

with the heaviest of hearts.

Last night our Charlie

took his own life.

Harold had warned me that

the men were close to breaking,

but I wouldn't see it.

I should have seen it.

He had just received a letter

from Margaret Parish.

It seems Ned

had finally come home

and so she had called off

their love affair.

It's heartbreaking,

what love can do,

more powerful than anything

over here I could honestly say.

Would you tell Charlie's mother

he d*ed honorably?

It would be much better coming from

you than a stranger in uniform.

It's the least he deserves.

Oh, no. Oh, no.

- I'm so sorry.

- No!

I'm so sorry.

Despite what has happened,

the team is still

working without rest.

George showing more strength

than I can imagine to carry on.

We are near our end but...

mad as it seems,

I'm not sure

if I want it to stop.

Because if I do,

I don't know who I'll be.

Part of me wants all this blood and terror, because

I know I can be of some worth in stopping it.

And without it, I'm just

another man in a flat cap.

But part of me knows my greatest achievement

lies at home with you and the life we had made.

Maybe you were right all along.

I'm just a bloody fool.

All my love is with you

and Peter.

Yours forever, William.

June 6, 1917, eve of the att*ck

Wasn't able

to do an oxygen test.

So we'll just have to go for it.

That's all right, lads.

I've got it sorted.

- What's that?

- Apparently, army has run out of canaries,

so I've had to improvise.

Say hello to Fielding Jr. here.

- It looks dead.

- It's not dead, it's pissed.

Gave it a tot of rum. As long

as we can see it breathing,

- it's all that matters.

- Fielding takes away our miners

and we replace them

with a pissed rat?

Seems a fair swap.

If you're quite

finished with the local wildlife.

At ease, men.

I'm very proud.

Very proud of each

and every one of you.

Your belief.

Your courage in the face

of great difficulty.

You pretty much lived

your whole lives underground,

out of sight, unrecognized.

But tonight...

...in a matter of hours...

...thousands of our boys

will be torn to ribbons.

Unless we set that b*mb.

This isn't about what

we can prove to the top brass.

This is about

what we can do for our men.

Gentlemen...

...tonight...

...we may not make history...

...but we'll certainly change

the bloody geography.

Shorty.

Harold.

It's been a privilege.

Thank you, sir.

I was wrong about you, Bill.

You're a fine soldier.

03:00 AM

Three hours before the att*ck

Hey. Time.

Listen. They're close.

It's Harold.

Shorty,

I need you to calm, right?

Yeah.

Bill, we need more bags.

Wait, wait, wait.

Shorty, you're imagining things,

snap out of it.

Give me a sec.

It's clear.

George!

Shh...

Pick yourself up, lad.

If we find a German tunnel,

we've got to blow it. You know that.

And what if one of their

galleries is next to the chamber?

I need to see.

Bill!

Get your bloody ass back here.

Seems to be heading

a few degrees west.

The chamber should be

safe from the blast.

Let's get the charges

and bring the whole thing down.

Bill, move!

George!

Get off me!

What the bloody hell?

- No! The tunnel!

- Bill, it's gone.

It's gone.

The whole thing came down.

The chamber might still be

intact. Let's get back to work.

No, no, no, it will take hours to redig.

It's over, Bill. Forget it.

The whole thing. Gone.

The German tunnel.

- Part of their tunnel runs right alongside ours.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa.

- No, no, no, no! The chamber's collapsed!

- All we have to do is

find the right spot, break through,

we'll be right back there in the chamber!

There are a load of b*ll*ts that's

going to disagree with that, Bill.

The German procedure means they'll have

to scrap their tunnels, start a new one.

- They'll expect us to do the same.

- No!

It's a bloody su1c1de mission,

Bill, your own your own.

- The time of att*ck is set in stone.

- No.

At half past six, our boys are going

to be charging straight to their deaths

unless we do this.

No.

Harry...

...when you said I didn't have to come

here to prove myself, you were right.

When you called me a bloody

pigheaded moron, you were right.

Everyone of us is worth

as much as any general.

And I should have seen that

years ago. I'm sorry.

But right now, we've got

a simple choice to make.

We either stay here, do nothing, give

up, because we think we might fail.

Or we get back in there

and we do what we came here for.

Not to be heroes, but because

it's the right thing to do.

Let's get our

bloody gear then, eh?

Georgie, you stay here.

- I was wrong to push you to do this.

- No, you're fine.

You didn't look fine when

them crauts jumped us.

I'm sorry.

I just couldn't.

It won't happen again.

We finish this together.

At least someone's

having a good time.

05:00 AM, an hour before the att*ck

Shh.

Ah!

George, go back to breakthrough

point. Stand lookout.

Any activity, let us know.

Get the stuff.

We got 15 minutes to finish these connections

and then ten to get the hell out.

- Bill...

- Where?

I don't know. Multiple points.

Depth?

- Above us, I think.

- Then we proceed as planned.

Tell George.

Boy is on his own.

We've got work to do.

Shh. Shh.

We don't have much time.

It's going to fall.

It'll hold.

You two, get the cable out.

Just got a few more to do.

Come to see how we win

a w*r like gentlemen, Jack?

Depends what you mean

by gentlemen, sir.

- How are we doing?

- Make sure the expl*sive's primed.

It has to go off

at 6:30 exactly. All right?

It goes off no matter what.

- Go on.

- Bill...

...see you topside.

- What the hell are you doing?

- German saw me, I k*lled him.

I'm going to hell.

The whole world is going to fall in on us

here, George. I need you out of here. Now.

- What about you?

- I've got to stay and finish the wire.

Oh no, Bill.

Take this. This is our Peter's.

Now listen to me, George.

Listen to me.

You're not going to hell.

You were just protecting us.

I should have protected

your Charlie. I'm sorry.

Now here we are. If we don't

get these bombs set off,

this w*r will all go on and on. Before you

know it, our Peter will be Charlie's age.

I can't have that.

All this has to mean something.

Some light has to leave

these bloody tunnels.

All right?

Come on, Bill.

Platoon!

Fix bayonets!

sh*t! sh*t!

He'll have done it.

No!

Ah!

Right.

Done.

What if Bill didn't make it?

He gave us his orders.

Oh Lord.

The shade on our right hand.

George!

I thought you'd bolted, son.

Bill?

He's dead.

Let's get you to a medic.

Right. Come on, lads.

Let's go.

This morning

at 6:30 a.m., an expl*si*n

the size of which

the world has never known

punctured German lines

at Messines,

allowing Allied troops to take

enemy trenches unscathed.

The blast, so giant it was felt

back in Downing Street,

was detonated through

underground b*mb chambers dug...

I got the telegram yesterday,

there were no need to come.

May I anyway?

There are things I'm supposed

to say in a situation like this.

Such as hero...

...selfless act...

...patriot.

But I'm not going

to waste your time...

Because we already know

who William was.

Didn't need a w*r to show it.

A medal is just a fancy

piece of costume jewelry.

And a letter from the King

ain't worth... Ears.

Isn't worth the horse sh*t

it's written on.

I don't think I ever met a more stubborn

pigheaded man than your husband,

Mrs. Hawkin.

And I don't think

I've ever respected one more.

Ah!

I almost forgot.

This little chap went

everywhere with your father.

It made him believe he could

achieve great things, and it did.

It did...

...save thousands of lives.

Because he was yours.

And now... he belongs

back with you.

Peter.

The Messines expl*si*n

was the most powerful ever recorded.

The British Prime Minister heard

the detonation from London, 225 km away.

The mines k*lled

more than 10,000 German soldiers.

The enemy camp was invaded

by the Allies in less than 35 minutes.

It was the very last

tunnel of the Great w*r.