The Lost Patrol

Right through the lung.

Bell, dismount the men.

Yes, Sergeant.

Dismount!

Pity.

- Decent boy, in some ways. - Yeah, no soldier though.

- See the blighter what done it? - No.

Blasted Arabs. Hide like sand flies. Never see them.

There's them GS shovels.

Will I get two or three of the blokes to start in?

Right.

Sanders!

Corporal.

Brown.

Here.

Hand your horses over to McKay.

Put your rifles back in your buckets and get them GS shovels.

What happened? There was a shot and then the officer...

Is dead, my lad. Gwendolyn is napoo.

We are gravediggers.

Understand now, young fellow, my lad?

But out here? Where are we gonna bury him?

Doesn't make much difference, does it?

- All right, men, that'll do. - Gonna mark it?

What's the good? Bell, mount the men.

Sergeant.

Haven't you forgotten something?

Oh.

Go ahead, Sanders.

"Almighty Father...

"we commend the soul of our brother departed...

"and we commit his body to the ground.

"Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust...

"in sure and certain hope of the resurrection...

- "unto eternal life, through our Lord." - Amen.

I'm sorry, Sergeant, but that's not the entire service.

Sorry, Sanders, but we gotta be moving.

If we stick around here...

we'll be patting you and a couple of others in the face with a spade.

Put your topi on.

All right, men. Return to your horses.

Morelli, do you see anything?

No. Nothing but sand. Plenty of it.

Corporal Bell.

Yes, Sergeant?

- Do you know where we are? - No.

Do you know what we're here for? Do you know where we're going?

- No. - Well, neither do I.

Huh?

That young lad, that officer back there, never gave me his orders.

What?

I ask him four or five times, and he'd always say...

"I'll do that, Sergeant, tomorrow."

Well, here's our tomorrow. A nice one, too, ain't it?

Didn't he have them on him? Wasn't they in his pocket?

No, kept them in his head. A fat lot of good that'll do us now.

Where are we going now? What are we gonna do?

Well, we're lost.

You heard me. Lost.

What are you figuring on doing?

Well, I've worked it out the best I can. We're heading due north.

We ought to hit the river tomorrow night.

Yes, we may hit the river and that'll be that. But what else will we hit?

Yeah. A fine thing, ain't it, huh?

A patrol patrolling and not knowing where they're at...

and the orders locked up in that dead kid back there.

Dismount.

That's it, Jock. That'll do your horse good.

Pearson!

Yes, sir?

- You're a fool, Pearson. - Yes, sir.

Now, come on. Take it off, give it to me.

Now, come on, come on. You know I won't drink it.

You'll have a little left for tonight.

All right, men, walk your horses.

I don't know, Jock, I will never forget the time...

I drank the 57 bottles of beer on a bet.

It was in a bar in Calcutta, the Queen's Bar.

- Ice cold it was. - 57 bottles.

Well, I may have miscounted a few, one way or another...

but I know it was 10 below me record.

Freezing cold it was. Gave me a chill that nearly caused my death.

A pity it didn't.

All right, then.

Horse down!

Hold it! Halt!

Come on, laddie, please get up.

Too bad.

Sorry, McKay.

Here, Jock, give me that.

Take my horse. Go on with the rest.

Bell...

what do you make that out to be?

Looks like something moving.

Not sure. Such a glare.

- Couldn't be the brigade, could it? - Brigade? No.

Might be Arabs.

Morelli.

Hey, Morelli.

You're the hawk-eye of this party. What do you make that out to be?

Trees.

Whole clump of them.

Sure it ain't a mirage?

Mirage, my aunt.

Think he's right, Bell?

Maybe and maybe not. Maybe it is Arabs.

Arabs, my eye.

It's palms, I tell you.

It's an oasis.

That's what it is.

- Right. - An oasis.

Prepare to mount.

Take it easy. Take it easy, there.

Look after your horses.

That's enough. Now come on, watch your horses.

"Oh, Mother, may I go out to swim?

"Yes, my darling daughter

"Hang your clothes on a hickory tree But don't go near the water"

Corporal Bell, come on, get out of there.

Out, all of thee, and have some lemonade.

You forgotten yourself?

You haven't watered your own horse, have you?

Go on, get your rifle and see what's in there.

You ought to know better.

Now come on, you men, get out of there.

Aye, sir.

You can bust your own guts, but look out for your own horses.

Get your horses in there now.

Oh, Jock, boy, why, this is better than beer.

Aye.

Come on, girl.

Take it easy.

Oh, boy.

A creepy place. What do you think?

Mohammedan mosque.

- I wonder how old it is? - It's hard to say.

Funny.

Water, plenty of dates, this thing...

- and not a soul around. - Yeah.

And not a ghost of an idea where we're at...

what we're here for, or where we're going.

I want to see the horses.

Well, the horses look good. I bet they feel better.

Abelson, smarten up there.

Do up that shoulder strap, and carry that rifle, don't sling it.

You're on duty.

- Is that your horse? - Yeah.

I thought so.

Look at his back. I've told you about this before.

You ride the officer's horse tomorrow.

Tomorrow? Are we gonna ride tomorrow?

I said tomorrow.

We pull out before sun-up.

I say, Sergeant, did I hear you right?

- We moving out of here tomorrow? - Yes.

Gentlemen, I am the bearer of joyful tidings.

Yeah?

We leave this charming paradise tomorrow.

Paradise? It is the devil's own backyard.

Don't jest, Quincannon.

You know what this place really is.

I do, and I can tell you in 50 words. And every one of them forbidden.

If you'd read your Bible...

instead of hanging around canteens and native quarters all your life...

you'd know that Mesopotamia...

this, this very spot that you're standing on this very minute...

is the actual Garden of Eden.

The Garden of Eden! The Garden of Eden, how are you?

I tell you, it'd take no angel with a flaming sword to drive me out.

That's blasphemy, Quincannon!

- You'd better not... - Blasphemy?

Are you aware you're talking to a man who was for 10 years an altar boy?

- How you feeling, Pearson, better? - Oh, I feel fine, thank you, sir.

I'm sorry I wasn't quite up to it out there.

- Guess I'm not much of a soldier yet. - You're all right, lad. You did fine.

- You'll learn. - Thank you, sir.

Sure he'll learn. Take for an example yon Matlow.

I remember the time when he first came to the regiment 20 years ago...

the time Quincannon and myself had making a soldier of him.

Michael, do you mind the time we were at the depot at Poona together?

- I was Troop Sergeant Major at the time... - Excuse me...

but I was Troop Sergeant Major at the time.

Oh, no, Michael. You were Troop Sergeant Major...

but you had been broken for being drunk and disorderly...

setting fire to your tent...

and appearing on the parade ground with nothing on...

but your drawers and your topi.

That's a dirty lie.

I did not set fire to my tent.

Well, as I was saying...

Matlow was no better nor no worse a soldier than he.

And look at him now.

- Quincannon. - Sergeant.

Yeah?

How soon are we going to join up with the brigade?

I don't know. Tomorrow, possibly the next day.

Yes, sir.

Yes, but everything's all right now, isn't it?

Why, yes, certainly.

Quincannon, have you seen that the horses are securely pegged down?