"The British nation is stirred
as it never has been in its long, eventful history.
Official YIFY movies site: YTS.MX
They mean to conquer or to die."
They say a world war is a big thing.
Which is why they call it a world war, I suppose.
But for me, the Second World War was the size of our town,
A smoky little industrial town on Tyneside where I was born and bred.
Right. If you could all just gather round.
This is the story of my war. Joe Maddison's war.
My little world was about to be turned upside down and inside out.
It began the day my daughter got married.
Everyone smiling? Right, forget the ration.
Everybody say 'cheese'. ALL: Cheese.
Ladies and gentlemen, my pages are in the wrong order.
Try page one.
When Sheila first told me that her and Tommy were getting married
she said, "Dad, you're not to make a speech."
She's not a bad judge.
Thank you, Harry.
He's playing the music for the dancing later on
so we had to invite him.
I met him in a trench on the Somme in 1916...
and I've been trying to get rid of him ever since!
I never expected to be making this speech in wartime.
We were all told that we'd fought in the war to end all wars.
We thought we'd won it.
Anyway, er, we'd just like to wish my son Alan and Tommy the best of luck
as they do their bit.
But also let's wish Sheila and Tommy a long and happy marriage.
Before we all burst into tears, I'd like to thank Father Connelley
for making the heathens among us feel so welcome.
And, er, well, that's about it, really. The toast.
Oh, aye, the toast.
The bride and groom.
# ..and hearts...carefree and gay
Not dancing at your daughter's wedding?
Polly says I have two left feet... on the right hand side.
And for the official record...
..I don't regard you as heathen.
Even though Polly married out, as we see it.
I don't go to your church.
But I don't really go to anybody's.
But you're a good man.
Thank you.
Funny thing to say. Oh, it's the war.
These are strange times.
Better to say things while they're in your head.
Mind how you go, son.
Don't worry, ma. I'll keep my cap on.
What time are you away?
Early. Right. Well, I'll see you in the morning before you go.
Off to bed. It's been a long day.
Aye, all that dancing.
Well, you never know when you'll get another chance, do you?
I'll be in directly.
No rush. You lads have a bit of man-talk, eh?
So, what'll you be doing when you get back?
Well, not a word to Adolf Hitler but if I pass all the tests,
in a couple of months time I'll be a fully qualified wireless operator.
Flying in bombers. Oh, I wish I could be there with you.
Don't be daft. No, not flying but, you know, fighting the good fight.
There's no need. Shipbuilding's a reserved occupation, isn't it?
And besides, I mean, you're - Too old?
This is my generation's war.
Aye, I suppose it is.
One for the road? Aye.
Good stuff. This lad from Gateshead. He works in the officers' mess.
All the best, son.
Are you asleep? I was.
Till five minutes ago.
Be funny...
just you and me in the house.
Aye.
Funny.
You're not crying again, are you?
Why shouldn't I?
Away, man, pet.
We never really know why people cry.
At least I do it when I'm awake.
I'm trying to go to sleep.
"The clang of steel upon steel
echoes once more about the shipyards of Britain.
So, night and day our shipyards are building anew
to replace the tonnage sunk."
I've got cheese. You?
Potted.
Potted what?
I'm buggered if I know.
Mind you, next door's dog's gone missing. It could be potted Rover.
Go on. I'll take a chance.
Good do Saturday night, wasn't it?
Aye. Went well.
# All the nice girls love a sailor
# All the nice girls love a tar...#
Do you have to sing?
Oh, I'm just trying to keep my spirits up in troubled times.
I can do requests.
Pick a song, any song.
I can do all the proper voices, if you like.
Bing Crosby, Paul Robson. I can do Gracie Fields.
Just drink your tea, man! Now then, Eddie.
All right, lads.
Well, are you gonna join?
I've got no idea what you're talking about.
I put a notice up in the club. I don't in to the club.
What is it you want us to join. I wouldn't mind the Women's Land Army.
The LDV. And what the hell's the LDV?
I've read about that. The Local Defence Volunteers?
Yeah, but when the uniforms arrive it's gonna be called the Home Guard.
Rule one: Never volunteer.
I learnt that in 1917. And what would we be volunteering to do?
To defend the country against possible invasion.
I did my bit last time.
We'd all be in favour of defending the country, wouldn't we?
What if you woke up, opened your curtains,
and the sky was black with German paratroopers?
I'd probably go back to bed.
We must all unite against the forces of fascism.
I've been warning you two about that since 1936.
We could have sorted it all out
in the Spanish Civil War once and for all.
What sandwiches you got?
Lemon curd. Home made.
Swap you. For a venison pate.
Where you getting venison pate?
I happen to be a close and personal friend
of the Duke of Northumberland.
What are you doing, Billy? I'm ringing this bell, man.
What for? My dad told us to.
He wanted you out the way. Aye. But he said it would be good practice.
In case it happens for real, like. Practice for what?
Hold on a minute.
"The ending of a gas attack shall be signified
by the ringing of a hand bell."
There hasn't been a gas attack, man, there hasn't even been an air raid.
Can you smell gas? Well, of course I can't smell bloody gas, it doesn't have a smell.
So we can't be sure, can we?
Hello, pet?
Can you hear us?
All the nice girls love a sailor...
Bugger you. I'm not moving.
Go on. Drop your bomb.
Do us all a favour.
"Now the Battle of Britain is on.
The Germans fling the full weight of their Air Force against our civilian life.
From dusk to dawn they rain high explosive incendiary bombs
in an attempt to terrify us into submission.
Another wild indiscriminate orgy of destruction."
Hello, Joe. Evening, Mr Simpson.
Have you got any, I don't know. Aspirin, something like that?
Hangover? Just a bit of a head.
Hangover.
Well, this worked for many of my customers in 1937.
1937? When Sunderland won the cup.
This is what you want us to join?
As soon as you can, comrade. We need to defeat the fascists.
God help us all.
My money's on the fascists.
What can I get you, bonny lad?
Am I queue-jumping?
I'm waiting for haddock. Do you want a haddock?
Whatever's ready. Cod.
Aye. Cod's fine.
Your Polly on strike, is she?
No. Why should she be?
Cod and chips for one, three nights running?
She's had to go away. Family business.
Families, eh! You got your newspapers?
Good lad.
Ta. Good night.
Good night, kidder.
Family business. That's not what I heard.
Cheers, kidder.
So, what's up?
You must be desperate to wanna talk to me.
I think Polly's left us.
You bugger.
She left a note.
"This is for the best. Don't try to follow me.
You might understand one day."
And not even a PS saying you're dinner's in the oven.
Well, you could try the local method.
Go after her, give her a good hiding, fetch her home.
Worked for me. That's not how I remember it.
It's the same principle. When was it? 1933? 1934?
I get a job playing the piano in a concert party and I met this lass.
Tap dancer from Croydon. Obviously she had a funny accent but she was -
I remember the rest. Word gets back to head office in South Shields and -
Her brothers came after you. Don't marry into a family of boiler makers.
I married into a family of Catholics. Much the same thing.
Other day at work, you were singing all the nice girls love a sailor...
It was a joke, man.
Was that because Polly was dancing with a sailor at the wedding?
Aye. She was having a good time and it was all harmless enough, like.
Or so it seemed. Is he in the ship's crew?
He's a naval engineer. He's come up to see if we're doing the job right.
Smart uniform, mind.
I used to have a smart uniform.
All right. Name.
Away, man. It's Joe Maddison.
I know that, Joe, but I have to go through the formalities.
Red tape. I see.
Well, I'm still Joe Maddison. Yes, of course you are.
Are you still Mr Simpson the chemist? Major Simpson.
I was a major in the first war. Medical Corps.
I was Durham light infantry.
In France.
I never knew that.
Well, we don't talk about it, do we?
Why do you want to join the Home Guard?
This war's done its best to ruin my life.
I want to kill somebody. The Nazis'll do to be going on with.
Left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right,
Left, right, left, right, left. Squad, halt!
Left turn.
Right dress.
Eyes front.
Order...arms!
Well done.
I can tell some you have done this before.
Aye, 25 years ago. Was bloody boring then, an' all.
Well, some of it was almost average.
Over to you, Major Simpson.
Thank you, Sergeant. Now, I'd just like to go through
your basic training schedule for the coming weeks.
I know many of us are veterans of the Western Front
but there's still work to be done.
And pay attention because I don't like saying things twice.
Right, from tomorrow night - Oh, sorry, Major.
Did you say tomorrow night?
Cos I'm washing my hair.
What am I supposed to be looking for? Parachutists.
But they're not gonna do a parachute landing at night.
The element of surprise. They are fascist hyenas and they're not to be trusted.
Does anyone fancy a drink? Aye. Go on.
What the hell is that? Nerve tonic.
Nerve tonic! I'll swap you.
It's a present from Major Simpson.
Apparently he sold gallons of the stuff in the '30s
when we were all on the dole.
Since the war started, he can't give the stuff away.
I'm not surprised. That tastes like creosote.
Wait a minute. What?
What does that look like to you?
Bugger me, that's a parachute. It bloody is an' all.
I can see the fella's legs dangling.
So what do we do now?
Capture him. And can we beat him up?
I dare say that's optional. On we go.
Hold on.
That hasn't got any legs.
No legs?
LAND MINE!
This was my Auntie Bella's old street.
Oh, eh, look.
Ah, sweet Jesus.
Do you know him?
Aye, I know him. Billy Nicholson.
His dad's a fitter at Swann Hunters.
Last time I seem Billy, he was ringing that bell down our road the day Pol-
Must've got caught by the blast, there's not a mark on him.
Could you not pick on someone your own age?
Away, man, I killed kids of his age in the last war.
We all did.
Doesn't make it any better.
Nothing makes it any better.
Hello, Dad.
Oh, hello, pet.
Here.
What have you done to your hand?
Oh, I was opening a tin of beans.
You need a woman to look after you.
Sorry.
At first I thought she'd be back in a few days.
Then when I found out the whole story, well, I felt a bit ashamed.
Well, that's silly.
No smoke without fire, sort of thing.
Must be partly my own fault.
I only know bits and pieces.
But you know how your mum was helping out
at that military canteen up in Newcastle.
When in comes in this handsome naval officer.
So, after that it was occasional trips to the pictures
and afternoon tea dances at the Oxford Galleries.
Well, she always liked dancing.
That's it.
That's what I know.
Well, we'll start by tidying this place up a bit, eh?
I need to give you a few lessons.
Lessons? How to wash up.
How to make a shopping list. How to open a tin of beans without bloodshed.
I mean, I've been trying to see things from her point of view, like.
And, well, all I do is go to work and come home again.
Never liked the pictures much, except Roy Rogers.
Never learned to dance.
I don't give a bugger what sort of husband you were. Hey!
You never used to swear like that.
We're all doing things we never used to do.
What you need to know is...as a dad you've always been smashing.
Am I really, smashing? Yes.
And you were smashing parents, both of you.
And that's why I want my mum back.
She won't.
I haven't even got an address.
Try a bit harder.
That's him. That's the husband.
Aye. There was a car there at the house and it wasn't the doctor.
Eeee.
Father Connelley.
Joe. What can I do for you?
I need to talk to you about Polly.
Fine. Here.
You know she's...left me.
Yes. I did know.
Being a good Catholic girl she'd have talked about it to you in confession.
You know I can't tell you that.
Well, you've got to tell us something.
Joe, I can't condone what Polly's done
but I do understand why she's done it.
Well, I don't. And I need to.
Trust me. I'm sure you'll understand in time.
I need to understand now.
Joe, Polly once told me that you lost your faith during the war.
Uh-huh. On the Somme.
Half our lads had been blown to bits.
I got this padre to admit that God was on our side.
He was on the German side as well.
God is transcendant.
Aye, he's bloody useless at his job.
Thanks for talking to us.
"Even after a period of lull in the night bombing there's always
some activity which reminds us of these indiscriminate attacks.
And even after nearly a year of concentrated hate on our big cities
our big citizens still have a sense of humour."
I'm too old for this sort of thing.
German saboteurs? They've had to be lost to land here.
Well, they're not gonna turn up outside the central station in Newcastle, are they?
Why no, they'll come ashore at Roker and Marsden from a submarine.
Well, that's the official line, anyway, according to Major Simpson.
And that's why it's cobblers.
Germans or no Germans, I need a jimmy riddle.
Hey, look. Can you see that?
I can see something.
Warden, bonny lad. You're under arrest!
Oh! Bugger me.
We've arrested a statue...of a bloody angel.
And you haven't asked the only thing that really matters.
What?
Is she one of ours or one of theirs?
You owe me a shilling. What for?
That. Oh, I don't go to dances. A week on Saturday.
For a good cause. All proceeds to our gallant Russian allies.
Are you going? I'll be leading the band.
We're taking it seriously, mind.
Been practising Moonlight Serenade.
And we don't normally practise anything. Keep the buggers guessing.
Come on, then. I'll look in for half an hour.
Oh, Major Drummond.
Could I sell you a ticket to a dance?
I'm afraid I'll be a long way from Tyneside by then.
Well, no bother. You buy the tickets
and we'll give them away to the poor people of the parish.
It's all in aid of the Russians.
Keep the change.
You're a gentleman, sir. Good night, chaps.
Good night.
You crafty sod. You know what that was, don't you?
Shifty and underhand. The redistribution of wealth, comrade.
The shape of things to come.
Right. Two choruses of The Red Flag, then we'll piss off home.
Thank you, folks. The next dance will be a modern waltz.
And to spice things up a bit, we're making this one a ladies desire.
CROWD: Oooooh!
May I have this dance, please?
Oh, sorry, pet. I'm looking after the bar.
There's plenty of people to look after the bar.
Besides, maybes I desire you.
That's daft.
Not for ever, just for a couple of minutes.
No, I can't dance, man.
Can you count to three? Aye.
Yeah, well, if you can count to three, then you can dance.
You miserable sod. Dance with the lass!
I've only got two feet. Three into two won't go.
I'll show you.
Right. Follow me.
Hand on my waist. Hand out there. Forward with the back leg.
One, two, three.
Back, two, three.
Relax, man, you're supposed to be enjoying yourself.
I'm not that good at enjoying myself.
Try.
Forward, two, three.
Back, two, three.
Oh, sorry.
Very good.
Well, thank you for the dance.
That's all right.
Aye, aye.
Is this bonny lad gonna walk you home, pet?
Actually - I'm sure there's no need.
Honestly, man, you know nowt.
You dance the anniversary waltz with a lass, you walk her home.
Jockey Club rules.
Away, man, it's the least you can do.
Call yourself a gentleman.
Don't worry, he's always got batteries in his torch.
Shall I walk you home?
Anything to shut him up.
Ooh! Sorry. Do you mind?
You carry on.
Nobody's looking.
In this town, somebody's always looking.
Well, this is me.
Thanks for tonight.
Thank you, Hitler, for spoiling a lovely evening.
It's all right. I'm only ten minutes away.
You'd better come in.
Er, I don't make a habit of this, you know?
What? Having male visitors after dark.
Maybe just till the all clear, eh?
Ee, the place is a tip.
I wasn't expecting company.
Ah, but I did bank the fire, though.
Is this...
My husband. Yeah. He was killed at Dunkirk.
I'm sorry.
And to save any embarrassing silences,
I know about you and your wife.
Harry told us. He tells everyone about everything.
Anyway, I'm sorry.
Cup of tea?
What about the air raid?
Well, we've a little shelter in the back yard but there's rats in it.
To hell with Hitler.
If I go running away to the shelter then he's won.
Aye. Cup of tea, then, eh?
You know, you are the first man to set foot in here since...
Dunkirk?
Yeah.
Don't worry.
I'm always very careful where I set my foot.
if you want to get away to bed, I'll just stop down here till the all clear.
There's a spare room upstairs. No, no...
I'll - If I do stay, I'll just curl up on the settee.
There's no need - I'd rather stop on the settee.
Do you mind?
Suit yourself, bonny lad.
I'll fetch you a rug.
Morning, Joe. Morning.
Good night, was it? I was caught in the air raid.
Aye, that's what they all say.
Bloody hell.
If the positions were reversed, you'd be a bit inclined to say, "What time do you call this?"
What are you doing here? I'm on 48-hour pass.
There wasn't time to let you know and I just assumed you'd be here.
I got caught in the air raid. I know it's what they all say.
I didn't say a thing. Go on, sit down. There's still tea in the pot.
So, how are things?
Fine. When we go back, we start serious bombing.
How are things with you?
Ah, I manage. I would have written.
Should...have written.
About mum, but I didn't know what to say.
She found somebody she'd rather be with. Who can dance better than me.
Nothing more to be said.
And are you gonna tell me where you were last night?
I don't think so.
What's her name?
I forgot to ask.
Her name is Selina Rutherford.
I used to play football with her husband.
I remember him. Killer fullback.
And you forgot to ask her name?
I'm out of practice with that sort of thing.
Aye, that's what Harry thought.
You set it up. Well, just for a bit of a laugh, like.
She's lonely, you're lonely. It makes sense.
Am I? Lonely?
Course you are, you soft sod.
Well, you bugger, look at that. What is it?
Oh, my mistake. Thought I saw
a nightingale looking for Berkeley Square.
Shut up lads, man, we've got work to do.
Has she got a job?
Who? Selina.
Aye, she works at the Co-Op.
Why?
Eh, do you mind?
This is a queue, you know?
I've not come in to buy anything. It's a shop. It's for buying things.
Did you want some bacon?
No, it's not about bacon.
I wondered - Say no if you like. I'll not be fussed.
Love's young dream, eh? Did you ever?
What, man? There's people waiting to be served.
I wrote it down.
# Me And My Gal #
Oh, he's good, isn't he? Gene Kelly?
Yeah, he's a wonderful dancer.
Oh, aye. He can count to three, no bother.
He's got a big bottom, though, hasn't he?
Can't say I've noticed.
I'll pay attention next time.
Next time?
Can we have a next time?
Oh, I think we should, don't you?
Do you want to come in for a while?
I'd better not.
Got an early start.
Ships to build. Wars to win.
And I've got to write some letters to my children.
And you write a very good letter.
Do I?
Mm.
Let me see...
"Fancy the pictures tonight?
Meet me outside at half six but only if you want to."
It's not exactly romantic, is it?
I'm not exactly romantic.
You're telling me.
Put that light out!
We're all out of practice.
"The German Air Force launched a major attack
against the great city of Stalingrad on August 23rd 1942.
Never has any city sustained such an assault.
But Stalingrad still holds and men have held it."
Any idea what this is about?
Probably top secret. It usually is.
It'll be so top secret we won't be allowed to listen.
They'll ask us to cover our ears.
Be seated.
Thank you for your patience, gentlemen.
I'd like to leave you in the hands of Major Drummond.
Thank you, Major. I'm back here, I hope and trust,
as the bearer of good news.
The Home Guard in this area
is gonna have a chance to have a real crack at the enemy.
What the hell is that? This is a 4.5-inch heavy anti-aircraft gun.
They're rolling off the assembly line
and will be in full operational use in the new year.
Imagine a battery of four of these guns all firing simultaneously?
That's a barrage of 32 shells a minute.
Arriving in the sky at the same time as a German bomber.
Poor sod's got no chance.
I have to warn you that with any new weapon
still in the development stage, there is always the element of risk.
Aye, well. It would never do to blow up real soldiers, would it?
This is a serious business, Private. I know that well enough, Major.
I was blown up in 1917. And once is enough.
You. You have a question?
No, man. I'm volunteering.
Oh.
How about a bit of music, Private Crawford?
See us over the last mile.
Why, aye, Major.
# We are the night shite shifters shifting shite by night
# Because the Fuhrer has only got one ball
# Goring has two but very small
# Himmler is somewhat similar
# But poor old Goebbels has no balls at all #
Do you know any other tunes, Private?
Oh, hundreds, Major. I'll have a look in the piano stool when I get home.
Find something special.
You're on thin ice, Private.
Load gun.
Elevation 55 degrees.
Ready! Vary 20 degrees east.
Ready! Wait for it.
Wait for it. Battery, fire!
We hit the bastard.
Good God, man, Joe. Do you know what the time is?
I don't know.
Three o'clock? Or is it four?
Come on in.
You'll catch your death.
And we were all laughing.
Cheering.
You were heroes. Why shouldn't you be cheering?
I mean, I wasn't laughing and cheering.
Why?
It's obvious, man, pet.
There were men.
Young men that probably didn't even want to be there.
Inside that plane.
Burning to death.
I just thought, somewhere in Germany at this very minute...
Our Alan might be inside a plane...
burning to death.
While people laugh and cheer.
That's why I wasn't laughing and cheering.
That's the same reason I cry sometimes in my sleep.
Nightmares about young men dying.
Ah, well.
Ah, well, what?
You are staying the night and you are not sleeping on the settee.
You mean - Yes, I mean.
Oh, but I wouldn't - I mean -
We don't need to do anything.
We just need a cuddle.
What if I start crying?
Well done, everyone. Excellent afternoon's work.
Private Crawford. Sir.
You've got the mouth organ on you? All present and correct, sir.
So, a little bit of music to see us on our way home.
Nay bother, Major.
But not, might I suggest, Colonel Bogey.
Message received and understood, sir. Good.
# I don't want to join the army
# I don't want to go to war
# I'd rather hang around Piccadilly underground
# Living off the earnings of a high-born lady
# I don't want a bayonet up my arsehole
# I don't want my bollocks shot away #
Private Crawford, I'd like a word.
That song. It's indecent. Women and children could have heard it.
We were in the middle of the countryside. Didn't bother the cows.
Songs like that kept us going on the Western Front.
I know just as much as you about the Western Front, Private.
You're a bloody liar.
I know you'd like us to think
that that was taken in the thick of the action in France.
But it wasn't, was it?
That was taken at an army hospital.
Aye. At a big country house in North Yorkshire.
My sister was a nurse. She worked there.
And so did you.
All right.
In 1914, I was too old for active service. But I volunteered.
For the Medical Corps. Trying to heal the sick, taking away their pain. Is that such a crime?!
No, it isn't. But don't ever pretend you were one of us.
Joe and I know what it's like but no-one will ever understand
what it was like on the Western Front unless they were there.
I've still got the shrapnel in my back to prove it.
That must still be painful.
Of course it's bloody painful.
But you know what makes it worse?
I thought there'd be some sort of reward at the end of it.
Instead of which I've spent the whole of my life
being ordered about by cocky little sods
who've got no idea what they're talking about.
You are just the latest. But easily the worst.
I have to say that your reputation has preceded you.
I'm told you tend to argue with shipyard foreman and the like.
Oh, aye. I've worked my way up and down both banks of the Tyne.
Twice in some cases. Well, there are certain things you can get away with
in your fitters overalls which are simply unacceptable in military uniform.
At times, you've been a positive disgrace to the khaki.
A cruet?
It's just for show. I've never used it.
And there's no pepper.
Wedding present? That's the way most people get cruets.
I know. I've got three in the cupboard at home.
And two toast racks.
You expecting company? No. Aye, aye.
Oh, aye, man, what a lovely smell.
Do you mind if I help myself?
Steady with them chips.
Something the matter?
I've been chucked out.
Chucked out of what? The Home Guard, man, what else?
What for? Insubordination.
Simpson didn't like us singing that song this afternoon.
And then I accused him of telling lies about being on the Western Front.
And then I hit him. You hit him?
I know I shouldn't have done it. He's a lot older than me.
But we are going to do something about it
and you are going to be our spokesman.
Why me? Because you're the one everybody looks up to.
Am I?
Right, lads. If you'd like to form fours.
Platoon? This is Major Drummond.
From the Royal Artillery Headquarters.
And you will do him the courtesy of forming fours.
Tell him.
I'm sorry, sir. We're on strike.
You're on strike?!
What's your name and rank?
Maddison, sir. Private Joe Maddison.
Well, Private Maddison, it looks like you and I and Major Simpson here need to have a word in private.
Private Maddison, tell me. What's all this nonsense about a strike?
It's what I said, sir. A strike.
You realise that word has no meaning in the army.
Military rules apply. There is no such thing as a...strike.
It must be a mutiny, I suppose, sir. Mutiny.
If we're not allowed a strike, what else can it be?
And is this to do with Private Crawford?
Yes. Who struck his commanding officer.
He doesn't deny it. But...he had his reasons and he's prepared to apologise if you'll reinstate him.
And if we don't? It's everybody out, sir.
Is this an example of the working class solidarity
that I read about from time to time?
I think it must be, sir.
Thank you, Private Maddison. You can wait outside.
What did Major Simpson say?
He said Harry's a troublemaker but it was obvious I was the ring-leader.
So I'm suspended until further notice as an example to the others.
Mind you, it was obviously the other fella pulling the strings.
Can they do that? They're military.
They can do anything. And what did the lads say?
What do you think? One out, all out. They're all out on strike?
Well, apart from that Latin teacher from the grammar school.
Oh, and there's a trainee accountant that's considering his position.
Look, it's not your fault. Oh, I was chosen as a leader of men.
All I've done is lead them over a bloody cliff.
"Marking their fourth birthday,
a detachment of the Home Guard Mounted Guard at Buckingham Palace.
These part-time soldiers from all walks of life compare very well
even with such crack professionals."
Oh! Shot, Harry. Lovely wood.
Class. That is sheer class.
Tell you what, I love being on strike.
Beats the hell out of crawling over a turnip field pretending to look for submarines.
Concentrate, will you, this is a needle match.
Sorry, Comrade.
Joe. What?
I don't find bowls all that interesting.
But it's a cup tie against North Shields.
Ah, Harry, you can do better than that.
Would you rather go for a walk?
Yes, please.
See those two shots there, beautiful.
See your shots there, absolute rubbish.
It's class bowling, son, we make a better partnership...
I suppose this is what we're fighting for. Aye. it is.
This is one of Polly's favourite walks when we were first courting.
You've suddenly started talking about her.
The reason I can talk about her is, I can talk about anything with you.
That's nice.
True.
Just took us a long time to realise it.
Is it enough?
I've no idea what you're on about, bonny lad.
Well, a walk in the park and a game of bowls.
We could do all that in 1939.
Was it really worth millions of people dying just to get it back?
Too serious, Joe.
Sorry.
Hey, Mister. Put that lass down. You don't know where she's been.
Bugger off. Watch your language, man.
You're setting a bad example to the young.
Why don't you just go away? It's up to you but I thought you might be a bit interested, like.
In what? The bomb.
Look what I found, look what I found!
We were collecting shrapnel and we saw it. There. Look.
Right. All of you lot, get away home and stay home.
NOW!
Back to the bowling green. Tell Harry and Eddie what's going on.
What about you? I'm stopping here.
What if it - There'll be one middle-aged casualty instead of a whole lot of young-uns.
Come on! I'm on my way.
Lads! Lads, you've got to come quick.
There's an unexploded bomb.
Can we help?
No, this is a job for the South Shields Home Guard.
I thought you were on strike. Bollocks to that.
And we're lying three shots and game, remember.
Hey. Get away home, man.
There's nothing there for dogs.
Stupid bloody animal.
For Gods' sake, man.
He's soft as cloth, isn't he?
What are you doing here?
Come for my dog, haven't I?
All right, son? Aye.
"History's greatest story is being written.
The D-Day plan is launched.
These pictures take you right in among the men
who are putting Dunkirk into reverse.
Planting themselves on the first bit of French soil
to be won back after four years."
Why, aye. Well, guess what comrades?
You're gonna be shot at dawn.
I've been reinstated with a severe reprimand.
Bugger me. That's grand.
Had to make a concession, mind.
I promised to be more careful about my choice of music.
Oh, Major Simpson would like a word with you.
Oh, so it's Joe that's gonna be shot at dawn.
Take over will you, comrade? I'm thrashing him.
Ah, Joe. You wanted to see us.
Well, here I am.
I'm hoping we can forget about this little bit of nonsense.
You mean the strike? Yes.
That wasn't a little bit of nonsense. That was about a matter of principle.
Well, be that as it may, you and your colleagues showed great courage and initiative the other night.
And, er, may we shake hands?
Will any of this go down on my record?
No. On the contrary.
And I shouldn't have told, well, half-truths about my war record.
Case closed?
Got made up to corporal.
But I have to sew my stripes on the uniform.
I don't know how to start.
Needle and thread.
Polly kept them in the sewing machine.
Right.
Let's see if I can remember how to be a housewife.
Big smile! Say cheese!
Thanks, love.
Aye.
Six more bombs, I'll be a general.
Ah-ha. My hero.
Is that the door? Likely be the paper lad wanting his money.
Father Connelley. Good morning, Joe.
I thought you worked Sundays. I have an hour's grace between masses.
Good. So, erm, what can I do for you?
I've brought somebody to see you.
Hello, Joe.
And? Who's this? This is Mary. My daughter.
May I leave you to look after them? Unless you'd rather we went away again?
No. You'd better come in. Thanks, Joe.
How are you?
Thank you, Father.
This is Selina.
Selina, this is Polly. This is Mary.
Pleased to meet you.
Well, yes. Likewise.
Cup of tea?
Piece of cake?
Yes, please.
You're allowed to sit down. Thank you.
So, who's your pretty friend?
Selina. We met at a Home Guard dance. She's not here all the time, like.
Just occasional weekends.
A dance? You don't dance?
I do now. Not all that well, but...
You make up for it with enthusiasm.
Probably.
You never used to have enthusiasm.
Things change.
So I see.
There you go.
When you've finished your tea, maybe you should have a walk.
Probably got a lot to talk about.
Chocolate cake all right, pet.
Well, it's not proper chocolate, but...same colour.
Say thank you. Thank you.
Now do you understand why I ran away?
You met a handsome sailor that could dance the quickstep.
Oh, come on, Joe, man, don't be so dense.
You were having a baby and we both know it couldn't possibly have been mine.
So, where is he now, your handsome sailor?
He's out in the Pacific, fighting the war.
Not too far, pet.
Do you know what I miss?
Pease pudding?
No, I'm serious.
I miss the family.
The four of us sat round the table.
Nothing stays the same.
Kids grow up, leave home.
So, you and Selina...
how serious is it?
I don't cry in my sleep as much as I used to.
She must be doing something right.
And I've come alive again.
It may seem daft but it was the Home Guard.
I discovered I could be useful. Maybe even a bit brave.
Resurrection. That's a bit heavy duty.
That's what Catholics believe in.
Lucky old Catholics.
Look, Joe.
All I'm saying is...
if you want me to come back, I will.
Seriously?
It's not something you joke about.
Well, no rush. Take your time.
Where are they?
They're stopping overnight at Polly's mother's house in Tynemouth
and heading back out in the morning.
And what did she want?
She wanted to know if I would have her back.
Oh, never.
That's what she said.
What did you say?
I didn't really know what to say so I didn't - didn't really say anything.
Well, when you've made up your mind what it is you want to say, you'll find me in the Co-Op.
I'd like to be kept informed, that's all.
No.
I'll see myself out.
You spineless bastard.
"Berlin is getting a real taste of total war.
The terrific weight of the RAF assaults on the capital of Naziland
has set the Hun reeling.
Within a period of less than a week, the RAF dropped over 5,000 tonnes
of high explosives and incendiaries on Berlin.
The Germans say that such attacks are 'unfair'.
'Unfair'? Ye Gods, they don't know the meaning of the word."
Am I interrupting?
Alan! Why, no, course you're not, lad!
You know the lads, don't you? Since birth.
Alan. Harry. Good to see you. All right, son.
Sit yourself down. What are you drinking? I'll catch up.
I want to hear about your strike. Not much to tell.
We went on strike. Management caved in.
It's funny. We done the same thing. What?
We went on strike. You cannot do that in the RAF.
Well, maybe not, but we did.
We'd been on night raids, six, seven nights in a row.
So we went to the Wing Commander
and we said, "We're not going. We need a rest."
So we are going to the pub."
And they let you get away with it?
They had no choice.
I don't remember Karl Marx saying the revolution would begin at RAF bomber command.
You know, we do 30 missions the trot and then we get a break.
On average, we lose one plane in every 25 on every mission.
So, after you've done 25, you're living on borrowed time.
I see.
So, how many have you done so far?
I'm into the low 50s.
I think I'll have that pint now, lads.
A lot of them are posh, you know.
Who?
The chaps I fly with. Public school, some of them.
Get away.
They're canny enough chaps.
They, er...They talk different from us.
Good. So do you.
What?
You. You talk different since you went away.
Mixing with the toffs, I suppose.
Don't tell Eddie. He'll say you're betraying the revolution.
Well, Eddie's wrong. I am the revolution.
I'm thinking...
If I get through the war in one piece,
I might go to university.
University?
Aye. Well, apparently, there'll be grants, like, erm,
money for ex-servicemen to get some more education.
What do you want more education for?
You can read and write. You were halfway through your apprenticeship.
And spend the rest of my life as an electrician?
When I could have, I don't know, a degree in engineering?
People like us don't go to university.
I had a letter from Mum.
She says she wants to come home.
I know.
She paid us a visit with her daughter.
And Sheila thinks it's a good idea.
Do you?
House has been empty since she left, like.
That's not a proper answer, Dad.
I haven't got a proper answer.
What about your lady friend? How important is that?
She probably kept us sane.
Well, then?
Well, then, what?
Well, you either get it together with mam again
or you get a divorce and you marry Selina.
People like us don't get divorced.
My posh friends tell us it happens all the time in their families.
In between going to public school and university?
I'm serious, man. And you've both committed adultery
so it should go through like a dose of salts.
You have committed adultery, haven't you?
Well, yes.
Didn't realise it would be so much fun.
Dad, you should be ashamed of yourself.
No. Don't worry, I am.
Truth is...
I'm frightened.
I don't know what to do.
Well, whatever you do...
and whether I survive this bloody war or not...
..I'll be on your side.
Cheers, Dad.
Cheers, son.
"This is London. Calling to the Empire on a day
that has been held sacred for nearly a quarter of a century."
"We must never feel that because we are once more at war that that older generation died in vain.
Feel rather that we are finishing the work that they began."
Squad, squad 'shun.
Corporal Maddison, perhaps you do the honours?
It's all right, sir, I know the words.
Right. Now, let's all march out in style.
Squad, halt.
They shall not grow old as we that are left grow old.
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
we will remember them.
ALL: We will remember them.
# THE LAST POST
Squad. Fall out.
Ah. Hello, pet. Didn't know you were coming.
It was all a bit last minute.
Tommy. How are you doing?
So, are you coming round the house?
Yeah, if we're not in the way.
How could you be?
Well, wouldn't want to be a nuisance to your fancy woman.
Ah, well, she's not around at the moment.
But for future reference, her name's Selina.
Aye, she wasn't even here today. Away.
When did Tommy get back? Just this week?
He got blown up at Arnhem.
He won't talk about it, like, but he doesn't like to be closed in.
I suppose it's shell shock of summat.
I see.
That's why I was hoping you would have my mum back.
What?
So she can help us look after him.
Well, I didn't ask her to walk out, you know. I know.
And Selina is not a fancy woman.
She's a very good friend. Helped put me back together again.
They don't tell you, do they?
What it's gonna be like.
Did they tell you in 1914?
No.
Why not?
Because...
If they did, we wouldn't go.
There's something else.
What?
Don't ruin your life on my account.
Joe.
What can I do for you?
I need to know the difference between right and wrong.
Oh. Right and wrong?
Can you help? If I can't, I'm obviously in the wrong job.
Let me guess, it's about the family.
Well, that's an easy one.
The right thing is for you and Polly to get back together again.
And the wrong thing.
Anything else.
Divorce? That has no place in my philosophy, as you well know.
Leave me alone.
Everyone.
Leave me alone.
Eddie says you want a word.
Aye, I do.
Well, go on, then.
Selina.
That's the word.
You've stopped seeing her.
You're as miserable as buggery. She's the same.
You're both wandering around like it's one o'clock half struck.
And that's your advice.
Regard it as an order.
Or I'll wallop you.
Hang on.
Yeah, hello.
Hello.
Hello. Yeah, you don't know me, but I need some legal advice.
I'd like to speak to Mr Watkinson, please.
I'm having a bit of a party New Years' Eve.
It'll be open house.
That's nice.
Did my ma send you a card?
She did. And I'll send her one now I've got the address.
Who's Charles Watkinson?
He's a local solicitor. Just keeping us out of trouble.
You realise it's five to.
Who's letting the New Year in? Should be the youngest.
And somebody dark. I know who the youngest is.
Yeah. I've got everything ready. Will you come with us, Dad?
Show the little-un what to do? It's a grandfather's job.
Here, Tommy, put that wireless on, will you? Ready for big Ben. Loud as it will go, right?
"Four years ago, Europe belonged..."
Well, whoever you are, you need to know what happens on New Year's Eve.
Whoever's the first to cross the threshold after midnight
has to carry a piece of coal, some firewood...
Do you think this bairn's paying attention?
Every last word. I thought so.
Are you paying attention to the bairn?
Why, what's the bairn saying?
The bairn wants Grandma to come home.
Proper Grandma.
We'll talk about it later.
Health and happiness, is that right?
How about peace in our time?
And, Alan, safe home, lad.
Alan. Alan. Alan.
Are you expecting anybody?
It'll likely be that Winston Churchill come to say thank you.
Happy new year. Happy new year, bonny lad.
Happy new year. Are you gonna let us in?
We've got our rations.
Hello, pet. Happy new year.
Come on in.
Ah, you bought your squeeze box. Good lad.
# ..fishing in the Wear
# He caught a fish upon his hook, he thought looked very queer
# Though what kind of fish it was, young lad he couldn't tell
# He wandered back again towards the wishing well
# Oh, wish lads, on you go, I'll tell you now, an ample story
# Wish lads, on you go, I'll tell you
# Now, Rampton felt inclined to go and fight in foreign wars
# He joined a troop of knights that killed for neither wood nor scars...
Thanks for everything, bonny lad.
What did I do? You kept me out the loony bin.
You?
You're the one with all the songs and the jokes.
Have you never noticed when I'm telling the jokes?
I'm the only bugger not laughing.
Aye. I've noticed you don't laugh.
And that's what I mean.
Thanks for noticing.
Somebody's left a light on.
Go on.
Did she take it down?
No. I did.
Well, it's never done me any good, has it?
Happy new year, bonny lass.
# Keep your peace till dawn, ye heady lads
# Be happy through the night
# For we may not be so happy through the day
# So just give us that big contract
# Leave your peace in Geordieland
# And don't drive my bonny gels away #
How do you fancy corned beef? I don't fancy anything.
Hangover? Oh, aye.
Here. Have one of Mr Simpson's magic tablets.
Oh, ta.
Did you not get your official letter?
Not for me.
Anybody rustling paper, it hurts my head.
Especially if it's official.
The Home Guard to be wound up.
Here. 'All officers may keep their rank as an honourary title.'
Major Simpson, the chemist. Sounds like Happy Families.
What about Corporal Maddison, the Welder?
Oh, no, it doesn't apply to other ranks.
All we get is a certificate.
Typical of a class-ridden society.
Home made imitation fish paste, anybody?
Not unless you want me to throw up in your bait box.
"And so the parade marched past.
You remember the old days of the LDV when the only weapons they had was an armlet and a penknife.
They looked different today.
They make you realise the growing pains of the Home Guard have been worthwhile."
Private Crawford.
Thanks, Harry.
Even for the music.
Friends?
That's going a bit far.
But...sorry.
I should only hit people my own age.
Corporal Maddison.
Everybody's favourite NCO.
Can't imagine why.
That's grand.
Now, I've an idea. But you might not like it.
I usually like your ideas.
Hmm.
Well, I realised that the nail was in just the right position.
But if it upsets you.
Why would it?
I don't have to explain, do I? No!
We don't have to explain things, do we?
I think that's the secret, you know?
What?
They've spelled Maddison with only one "D".
I know.
Ah, lad, you cannot expect everything to be perfect, can you?
Is everything else perfect?
Does this mean what I think it means? Aye.
"Victory was in the air long before the official announcement of total peace.
From a Whitehall balcony, the men who organised victory looked down.
Celebrations went on for days without a break."
Er, five years ago, just around the outbreak of war,
I found myself making a speech at our Sheila's wedding.
If you told me then that five years later I'd be making a speech
at my own wedding, I'd have said you were mad.
Mind you, I often think that anybody that's living in the 20th century
that isn't mad, must be round the twist!
But, all I've got to say is, more things have happened to me
in the last five years than in the whole of the rest of my life.
Good things, I mean.
Selina, for one.
Then there's the family, of course.
Welcome home, Alan.
And, Sheila, I can always count on you.
Not forgetting my mates.
Harry, Eddie. All the lads in the Home Guard.
Major Simpson. And Father Connelley.
Who I think's rather given up on my and my heathen ways.
And all of you. All good people.
The fact is,
the last five years have been the best years of my life.
I'll go to my grave and I'll never understand why.
Too serious. Sorry.
Have a great party!
# Jeepers creepers, where'd you get those peepers?
# Jeeper creepers, where'd you get those eyes?
Why, aye?
Will you take the little one so I can dance with my dad?
Of course. No bother.
You be as long as you like.
# Woe is me
Why, I never knew you could dance.
Neither did I, bonny lass.
Neither did I.
# How they hypnotise..
# Where'd you get those eyes? #
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