History, Braith. We're about to write it.
The Greeks and Trojans will be here forever...
-Fall back!
...and now it's our turn.
Bugger this. Who wants to go to the beach for a swim?
There's an idea.
- What have you got there? - The one that got me.
Don't hang onto that. It's bad luck.
-Tol! -Bev!
I don't care what anyone says. They're good blokes.
Two Bob's dead.
- Come on, lads!
Over the past four days,
Hamilton's run up how many casualties?
20,000?
25,000?
Hamilton's task was a peninsula.
What's he managed? A few bloody acres of nothing.
Definition of insanity,
to repeat the same action over and over again
and expect a different result.
Good evening, gentlemen.
We're together on this.
- Tol, this is Celia. -Hello, Thomas.
Who's yours from?
Mum.
- What's she got to say? -Not much.
He now admits at least the break-out was a failure.
And his response is this call for more men.
Surely Kitchener can't agree to this.
Sir, the truth is, General Hamilton has lost the support
of all his closest advisers.
Sir, Lord Kitchener is about to send another cable.
He says it has to be deciphered by you alone.
I'll read it tomorrow.
-Sir.
Thank you, Simmonds.
- General, may I say... -Say nothing, Colonel.
I have not succeeded.
The moving finger writes.
And there's an end to it.
Hm.
General.
I'd like to thank you.
For your contribution.
You're very gracious, sir.
I am that. At least.
Braithwaite.
What's this?
He's been dismissed by Kitchener.
- Bean. -Sir.
So, this is your camp, hm?
Very comfortable.
We'll all be sorry to part with you, sir.
I wanted to say something about the ANZAC men, Bean.
They're splendid fellows.
And they have exceeded all my expectations.
My heartfelt wishes go with you all.
Thank you, sir.
They will be remembered.
Ripped By mstoll
When the storm hit, it wasn't just rain.
This was something different.
You reckon they're trying to get rid of us?
TOLLY; For months I thought God had abandoned us.
But that damned storm.
It was like He was coming back at us with a vengeance.
What's all that?
That's Lord Kitchener.
What's he doing here?
Coming to check on you, Tol.
You'd better watch out, Corporal.
Why is he here?
May I?
Yes, sir.
Could I have a loan of that?
Now let's see...
Oh!
Steady, Birdy.
Yes. Right.
Good.
Carry on.
We're here, sir. Russell's Top.
Mm-hm.
And that's Pope's Hill over there.
The line lies across the Turk emplacements
named the Chessboard.
Then Quinn's, Courtney's, Steele's.
And then down over here, Lonely Pine.
- We hold that, don't we? -We hold a good part of it, sir.
So this is the extent of our right flank.
Yes, sir, more or less.
And these men,
what do your officers think they could accomplish
if we had one more push?
It's considered they could fight for 24 hours, sir.
No longer.
Thank God, Birdy, I came to see this for myself.
The country is much more...
...difficult than I imagined.
I'd no idea what you were up against.
I think you're all doing a marvellous job.
Thank you, sir.
But something must be changed here before long.
The Germans...
...are moving heavy howitzers into Turkey.
They'll be here before we know it.
Cheerio! Hoo-roo! Ta-ra!
It's a rumour, Bev. It's everywhere.
- We're not going. -Don't say that!
- Why wouldn't we? -What, withdraw without winning?
Not the Pommies, mate. They never surrender.
- They're not going to win. -And how do you know?
They've won every war they've been in since Agincourt.
And even if they didn't, they'd say they did.
- And when was Agincourt? - 500 years ago last week.
Doesn't count.
It does to them. And they're a great empire, Tol.
They do things differently to everyone else.
They're hopeless.
They weren't always.
Could be worse.
Like how?
They could be shooting at us.
Almost miss the flies.
Almost.
Yes, of course, General Monro, sir.
So, Kitchener's recommendations for evacuation
have gone to the war cabinet.
We are now in the direct hands
of civilians in lounge chairs, chaps.
How long till they make up their minds?
Well, come on.
I know Johnny Hamilton wasn't a betting man, but I am.
I'm taking bets.
A month? Two months?
You're right, sir.
I am.
The bloody German howitzers will be in Turkey in a week.
- Wrong, sir. -What do you mean?
The howitzers have apparently arrived in Constantinople.
So...
...they'll be here soon to blast us off the peninsula.
We prepare for evacuation.
- Without the word from London? -That's what I'm saying.
We start now.
We started the silent war.
All along the line
we were told to stop shooting for days at a time
to lull the Turks to sleep,
to make them think we were settling in for winter.
Stand down!
Corporal?
Stand down!
Reynolds!
And these howitzers,
like some horrible beast coming for us.
I was talking with Monro.
Bloody great trench-busters, they are.
He says he's experienced it in France. It's horrific.
Look at me.
I'm wondering how Bartlett would cope with this.
A roaring fire, a few servants.
Mulled wine.
Furs. Mink and so forth.
Have you heard about that soldier,
frozen to death up on the parapet?
One thing's for sure -
Sydney and Melbourne
won't be reading about that over breakfast.
Much worse down in Suvla. Hundreds.
Drowned and frozen.
Hundreds.
It gives a bullet a kind of honour, don't you think?
...and they move down to piers on North Beach, Anzac and Suvla
over a 48-hour period.
All in all we'll clear 200 guns, 2,000 vehicles,
5,000 animals and 90,000 men.
Good.
My congratulations, General.
Thank you, sir.
London.
At last.
Quiet. Quiet. Quiet.
So, we will continue with the silent war.
In the meantime, I want to thank each and every one of you.
As does the Army Corps Commander.
Let me read, lads.
"If every man makes up his mind
"that he will leave the trenches quietly when his turn comes
"and sees that everybody else does the same,
"there will be no difficulty of any kind."
Alright, alright. Quiet!
Whoa! Whoa!
What's wrong with you blokes?
Come on, wake up, fellas!
Davey, cheer up, mate! We're going home!
Whoo-hoo!
Ugh!
Jeez, Tol.
Bloody hell, that was close!
Tol, what are you doing?
Leave them.
Sorry, Bev.
-Get down!
- Dave! - Over here.
Bevan?
Tolly...
Bev.
Bevan!
I'm alright!
Tolly, it's alright.
Tol...
Bev!
Bevan!
Shit!
Stretcher bearer!
It's alright. It's alright.
We're going to get you out of here.
It's OK, Tol. Everything will be OK.
It's OK.
And these howitzers.
The news gets worse at Suvla.
Not so bad here, sir. Hardly any casualties.
That's very good.
Now, what is it exactly that you want to show me?
Ah, well, it's quite ingenious, sir.
Wonderful. 12 minutes.
I presume they can be set at different times?
Depending on the amount of water.
- And we're manufacturing them? -As many as possible, sir.
Come on, pack it up. Heading back home.
Corporal.
Sir.
- My sympathies, Johnson. -Thank you, sir.
I know how close you were.
What is it, son?
Sir, I'd like to volunteer to be one of the rearguard.
Me too, sir.
You're a bloody idiot, Dave.
Why volunteer when you've already made it?
Don't try and push me round, mate.
What are you doing? You've got to get out while you can.
- Shut up, Tolly. -Just go! I don't need you here!
- Tolly, listen... -Go!
You think you know everything
but you don't know anything.
Go!
In nine days and nights,
70,000 soldiers left Anzac and Suvla.
Move to the assembly area.
There was no cheering or gladness.
They walked back down the hills
and every bloke had the same thought.
"We might be leaving,
"but a lot of us are staying here forever."
I'll see you on board the 'Chatham'.
Sir.
Only 10,000 remaining.
We can only hope that most of them come out alive.
Indeed, sir.
Thank you, sir.
On that final night,
the last ANZACs were just 1,500 blokes
scattered along the front lines,
men who'd volunteered to stay to the last.
B Group men stand down, fall in.
We all knew if the Turks realised what was happening,
Gallipoli would end in a massacre.
Get everything packed, make your way down to the beach.
Platoon, get moving.
Good luck, Tolly.
You should have gone, Dave.
Why didn't you?
Been asking myself that same thing.
I think, um...
...I didn't want to be the only one of us to...leave.
Do you reckon we're fooling them?
- No.
Neither do I.
Bevan was a good man, Tol.
So, what do you do now, Dave?
Go back to university.
Pretend I'm learning.
Pretend?
They're just books!
They're no...comfort.
It's not life.
-There's more life here.
I'm 18 now,
and I know more about death than living.
-Happy birthday, Tol.
You know what I think they ought to do?
We should get our god...
...and they should get theirs...
...and we let them fight it out.
Then there'd be a lot less killing.
What?
It's the same god, Tol.
- What?
Muslim god, Christian god, same...same god.
It's the same bloke?
Are you sure?
- Yeah.
So, he's getting prayers from both sides...
...and he still lets them kill each other.
Yeah.
I don't understand.
Come on, Tol. That's it.
Come on, last boat.
Gallipoli,
the war that got away from its handlers.
If it made more sense, it would be a lesser story.
Perhaps that's why,
after longer and more important battles are forgotten,
it lingers in our imagination.
What is it about this place?
It's been farmed and fought over for 5,000 years.
The rhythms of the earth are eternal.
The warriors are the ones that never last.
Ripped By mstoll