A Very Long Engagement: On the Set of a Romantic Epic

A VERY LONG ENGAGEMENT

Saturday the 6th of January, 1917,

five condemned soldiers were escorted to Bouchavesnes

at the Front in the Somme.

Watch out for the wire!

The first, once cheerful and adventurous,

wore the tag number 2124. He was drafted from the Seine area.

On his feet were boots, taken from a dead German.

Before becoming 2124, he was known as Bastoche

and was hooked on a pretty redhead,

a certain Véronique Passavant.

He was a carpenter.

Taking a break from his woodwork, they'd go for a beer

at Little Louis' bar, in Golden Hand St.

He'd taken his boots from an enemy who no longer needed them.

Stuffed with straw or newspaper,

they replaced his old clodhoppers.

He was court-martialed for self-mutilation.

Gunpowder had been found on his wounded hand.

He faced the death sentence.

Watch out for the wire!

The second soldier was tag number 4077,

also from near the Seine.

He was a welder for the State Railways, in Bagneux.

His name was Francis Gaignard,

nicknamed Six-Sous.

He knew the poor build the canons of their own destruction,

but it's the rich who sell them.

He tried to explain it to the troops,

but he wasn't a good speaker.

And cheap wine, poverty's best friend,

deadened the soldiers' eyes,

making it difficult to get through to them.

Number 1818 was surely the bravest and the toughest of them all.

He had once killed a fellow officer...

an officer who kicked the dead.

Get up!

You swines!

You lazy cowards!

You! Get up!

Attack! Attack!

You! Get going!

No one ever found out.

Benoît Notre Dame was a farmer from Dordogne.

One August morning,

they came to get him at his farm

and sent him off on a train.

Watch out for the wire!

The telephone wire is the only link to the land of the living.

A flimsy wire, their only chance for President Poincaré's pardon.

Even if the only one to still believe in it

is him. Number 7328, recruited in Corsica.

Angel Bassignano.

According to all who'd known him,

he was no angel at all.

He was a liar, a cheat, a show-off,

a sneak and a troublemaker.

Before all this,

Tina Lombardi worked as his whore.

He'd received a 5-year sentence for an affair of either love or honour,

depending on who he was talking to.

It was, in fact, a conflict between village pimps.

Summer 1916, common-law criminals were enlisted

to beef up regiments melted in the fires at Verdun.

They gave him the choice.

It's been shitting shells round here!

No, it's been rather quiet.

Who are those for?

Well, actually... you'll be attacking tomorrow.

We're getting a head start.

Watch out for the wire!

The fifth was a "Cornflower”, the nickname for the class of '17.

He was five months shy of 20.

These days, everything scared him.

French canons short-firing,

the wind that heralded the mustard gas attacks,

executions to set an example.

He hadn't been like that before,

quite the opposite,

braving storms as he helped lighthouse keepers.

And then came one shell too many.

There you go... The winning ticket back to your fiancée.

The ticket for a court-martial.

Turn a blind eye, Sarge. He's been through enough.

They could execute him.

- Be human for once. - Shut up!

Please, Sarge!

Shut up!

The first time Mathilde and Manech made love,

he fell asleep, his hand on her breast.

Each time his wound throbs,

Manech feels Mathilde's heart in his palm.

Each beat brings her closer to him.

If Manech were dead, Mathilde would know.

Since the death notice,

she stubbornly holds on to her intuition, like to a flimsy wire.

She never gets discouraged.

And Mathilde is of a cheerful disposition.

If that wire doesn't lead her to her lover, never mind...

she can always use it as a noose.

In June 1920, Mathilde received a letter from a nun.

A patient at the Rennes hospital wants to see her.

He'd met Manech in January '17 at the Front in the Somme.

August 1912.

Handsome, wasn't I?

It's a De Dion,

with direct drive.

Please, tell me about Manech.

In January '17,

I escorted five condemned soldiers.

He was one of them...

Yes.

I was to take them to a front-line trench.

Gendarmes were waiting with the prisoners

near a bombed-out cemetery.

What are you doing with those German boots?

Waiting.

What for?

Poincaré's pardon? You'll wait!

He'll sign it!

I shouldn't even have been condemned.

I'm Corsican, not French!

Leave him be.

He's lost it, but that's for the best.

Finished, Lieutenant?

The cold has saved that one.

Gangrene would've got him in summer.

And Manech?

Was he in pain?

They had to cut off two fingers,

but he wasn't suffering anymore.

I led them to a trench,

called "Bingo Crépuscule".

Bloody hell!

Couldn't you have lost them on your way?

A kick in the ass to get rid of them!

My orders are to bring you these five.

And I'll tell you my orders!

I'm to throw these guys over the top

and leave them to die like dogs

between our line and the Jerries'!

Those are my damned orders, Sergeant!

You see, Sergeant, with the Jerries, there's a kind of status quo.

It's a little too calm? Let's start the fireworks

and watch all he” let loose!

Soup, guys! You're lucky, it's still warm.

Beetroot and fennel.

What can I get for you?

A large hot chocolate and some bread with honey.

I'd kill my parents to get you that!

Do you mind, Lieutenant?

He's an orphan!

He'll get it. Célestin Poux is the "Mess Hall Marauder",

the "Kitchen Raider".

Fifteen minutes later, he came back with it all.

Salted Guérande butter,

lavender honey,

and...

cocoa from Nigeria!

Grand...

Tell me, Cornflower,

you've no one to write to? A fiancée?

Mathilde.

Her name is Mathilde.

I hear her heart beating, like Morse code.

We're engaged.

Luckily, we won't have to wait till the end of the war.

Now I can go straight home after the execution.

Should I spare you the rest?

I'm lame, not dim.

What happened?

We opened the barbed wire

and equipped the five against the cold.

Célestin Poux gave up a red woolen glove to protect your fiance's hand.

Are they far?

Too far for grenades, too near for artillery.

Gas is out of the question. The gasser always gets it!

Think they'll make it?

If they're not blown to bits, they'll starve and freeze.

Either way, it'll amuse the Jerries.

A Corporal gave Bastoche, the carpenter, a hug.

It was Corporal Gordes.

They clearly knew each other before the war.

And then,

over they went.

- Shit... - Shut up.

- Shit! - Shut up!

September '14.

150 pound weight, easy!

And I wasn't at my best!

But that morning,

in January '17, was Manech still alive?

At dawn, Favart called out their names.

Apart from the Dordogne farmer, they all replied.

Bassignano!

Sir!

Bouquet!

What now?

Langonnet!

Yeah, still here!