Black and White in Color (Noirs et blancs en couleur)

Left, two, three, four!

Company...

halt!

Weapons straight ahead!

Take cover!

On your feet and march!

Take cover!

Left face!

Left, two, three, four.

Company, halt!

We're so exhausted.

A German must never fear fatigue.

Karl, I'm not complaining.

Damned chicken!

Fifty plus 10 equals 60, my friend.

Did you count my king?

This is a republic. Kings don't count here.

This is how you dress when visiting a foreign land?

Candles, socks...

Mr. Haussmann, your bill is ready.

It comes to 57 francs and 75 centimes...

barring any error, of course.

I trust you, Mr. Rechampot.

You'll be paid within three months, as usual.

I'm not worried. You always pay on time.

Maryvonne?

Come down here. Our friend is about to leave.

- What? - He's leaving.

He's leaving. Let's have one last drink.

Alas, I cannot.

You mustn't insult us. A quick one will do you good.

The road is long. I must be back by tomorrow evening.

Exactly. It'll give you strength.

Another time, madam.

So, my friend.

At ease.

If we weren't here to keep them supplied, the Germans would be in trouble.

Please convey my respects to your priests.

I'm sure they're out in the bush making new Christians.

They'll be back in two weeks, if they're not eaten alive fiirst.

Attention!

Take up your packs!

Hurry up over there! Faster!

On the double!

Company, right face!

Forward march!

Good Lord.

He works them hard!

Give my best to your offiicers!

Jawohl, madam. I'll do that.

That's all well and good...

but let's have a drink before Mr. Rechampot sells it all.

Look at this, all broken and beat up.

What can I give you for that?

Here, I'll give you a cross. Now go on.

Let me see.

Here.

This Sacred Heart card is very nice.

Tell him a Sacred Heart is more than fair.

That's not even worth a cross.

He says he wants the big colored statue of the woman and child.

He says his necklace is extremely valuable.

Then he can keep his necklace and I'll keep my Sacred Heart.

I'll give you a cross for the rest and off with you!

This is really getting on my nerves!

- You shouldn't expect much here. - They know us too well.

Next.

Fidele.

HAPPY NEW YEAR 1915

Yes, Sergeant?

Nothing.

I thought you might want to talk about...

the younger sister of my brother-in-law's cousin.

The one I spoke to you about.

No, it was nothing.

Just talking.

But the young girl says...

she can do everything just the way you like it.

Who taught her?

The old woman who comes often to visit you.

Tell her to come knock at my door one evening.

I'll do that. You'll be pleased.

Leon?

Come on. Just for me.

I'm not in the mood.

The appetite grows with the eating.

Come on.

What's wrong?

Don't you ever get excited anymore?

To Mr. Lucien Herr, College of Advanced Education...

45 rue d'Ulm, Fifth Arrondissement, Paris...

in care of Administrator Tarato...

St. Pierre de Samba, French Equatorial Africa.

Fort Coulais, January 6, 1915.

Dear teacher and, if I may, dear friend.'

Here is my punishment for not excelling in nobler gfields of study.

I should be teaching Greek in one of those pleasant schools...

of which our province is so proud...

but instead here I am under a summer sky...

wandering through virgin savannahs...

picking native grasses and collecting mineral specimens.

What good fortune to be a simple geographer.!

Africa is far from being the hell depicted in writings from the colonies.

Where I expected to encounter gfierce beasts...

I fiind only dogs, cows, chickens...

and the occasional duck.

Where I expected ferocious savages...

armed with spears, lances and poisoned arrows...

ready to turn all travelers into a quick meal...

I meet only peaceful villagers...

whose pastoral lives remind me...

of the country folk in many parts of our own land.

The only dangers I battle here are boredom...

and the company of a handful of our compatriots...

with whom I must rub elbows.

Listen, just because it's my turn to be on watch tonight...

you don't have to take such a long siesta.

Don't worry. There's lots more for you.

The bastard!

Where are those empire builders...

those modern-day knights and intrepid pioneers...

that all those adventure novels had us dreaming of?

Payback!

So I feel quite alone here.

Moreover, it's been six months...

since we've had any visitors or correspondence.

It seems such delays are not unusual in this part of Africa.

But I'm longing to know what is happening in Paris these days.

What are they playing at the theater and the opera?

What is Debussy composing? What is Peguy up to?

And what's new with our socialist friends?

As for the colonies, tell our friends not to be so sure...

about the inferiority of the black race.

Seen up close, this inferiority has less to do with the shape of the skull...

or the composition of the blood...

than with the conviction we hold of our own superiority.

At the risk of shocking you...

I daresay that in many respects...

the natives are not far from meriting the honored name of "men."

Thank you, Barthelemy.

Dear teacher, I wish you a happy and peaceful 1915.

Respectfully yours...

Hubert Fresnoy.

There's no end to this junk.

Garbage!

This one's not too bad.

This we'll keep too.

Like the monsignor says, you can't even give this stuff away to charity.

In the provinces, maybe.

Bad taste has limits even in the provinces.

How I love this song!

Oh, my back!

- Thomas, how are you? - Fine, Father.

- Are you here all alone? - All alone.

- The other fathers aren't here? - No.

But surely they'll be returning tonight?

I don't know.

Have they been gone a long time?

- Long time. - Long time very much?

Long time a little.

And they left no word for us?

They said monsignor said they should join him.

What's all this about?

I don't know.

Didn't anything arrive for us at Fort Coulais?

Nothing.

So there is something after all.

This isn't for us?

Not for you.

It's for the young man who loves plants.

And where does that young man live?

Fort Coulais.

And where do we live?

You live at Fort Coulais.

But this isn't for us?

It's for you.

Great! Something to read!

Jaures has been assassinated!

Who?

- Who? - Jaures.

Go on.

Mr. Hubert, you mustn't get upset.

God in Heaven!

My friends, we're at war.

Who is "we"?

Us. France.

What's the date on that, Father?

- August 3rd. - My God.

Does it say how it turned out?

They only go up to August 13th.

Who are we at war with, Father?

Germany, of course!

Really? I would have said the English.

- Damn it! - What?

That means I'm out 57 francs and 75 centimes!

Germany's never going to pay now!

What?

Germany.

- It's right out there! - So?

The Krauts are out there!