The Last Witness

Subtitles by explosiveskull

September 30th, 1939.

We were herded onto prison trains near Grodno.

Conditions were very cramped and damp.

It is very hard to sleep.

I don't know how long some of the other injured men can last.

The icicles that form on the window grill

provide the only drinking water.

October 9th, 1939.

We are off the train at last.

Now, apparently, we are no longer prisoners but guests.

On several occasions, NKVD officers

have summoned some of us for interrogation during the night.

With this sort of madness, it is little wonder

that we are at a loss as to what should be done.

March 20th, 1940.

It seems the Soviets are taking a softer line with us now.

Rumors are rife among the men that our release is imminent.

April 15th, 1940.

At last. My prayers have finally been answered.

My name was read out this morning.

Spring is in the air,

and I have not felt this alive in many months.

My hope is that this is the last time

I will ever have to travel like this.

No need to be so keen, lad.

Suicide, most likely.

Sir.

Oh, wonderful.

Hopefully, that will be his suicide note.

Poor sod.

- Right. Let's get him up. - Yes, sir.

Mind your step.

British military occupation ends in Iraq.

Western Post! British military occupation ends in Iraq.

So... Sandy can cover the docks.

McCloud, the Redcliffe stuff,

and John gets the union story... for his sins.

Nothing too controversial.

Underwood, the Cider Festival.

- That's it.

Off you go.

Hey, I said no.

No one wants to hear about suicide, Stephen.

Not now.

It's bad for circulation.

What if it's not suicide?

I have a contact up at the camp.

Stephen, dear boy,

did the police give any indication

that they thought it might be anything other than suicide?

No.

Exactly.

So please don't try my patience.

War's a terrible thing and many can't cope,

and there's the end of it.

There's no story here.

Do I make myself clear?

Yes.

Right. Thank you. Off you go.

Can you file this, Maisie? Thanks.

- Rose? - Yes, Mr. Underwood.

Have you, er, ever been to the Cider Festival?

Good evening, Mr. Underwood.

- Late again? - I had to work.

I see.

- Goodnight. - Goodnight.

Despite the passing of the Polish Resettlement Act earlier this year,

the West Country is witnessing a growing number of unexplained suicides.

The men are all ex-servicemen from the Polish Second Corps.

A coincidence? Or could this be something more sinister?

- Morning. - Morning.

Can I help you? - I'm here to see the Captain.

Good morning, sir. - Good morning.

One moment, sir.

Sir, Colonel Pietrowski's arrived with the two DPs from Stowell Park.

Once we're done here,

tell the Quartermaster to make an inventory

of everything we're short of. Double it, and put in a written order.

Yes, Captain.

Morning.

Thank you. Good luck.

This all seems to be in order.

If you'd like to bring them in, Colonel,

there are just a few signatures required.

Of course.

Colonel, perhaps you and your man

would like a spot of breakfast before the drive home?

We don't have much, but it's hot.

Thank you. That's very kind. Er, Jeanette...

once you're finished, would you drop the Colonel's aide off at the mess?

Yes, sir.

John.

I'll talk to you later.

- This way, Colonel. Colonel.

My name's Stephen Underwood. The Captain is my brother.

I'm a journalist for The Western Post.

Colonel Janusz Pietrowski,

formerly of the Polish Second Corps,

Acting Resettlement Corps Liaison.

Colonel, pleased to meet you. - And me you, Mr. Underwood.

Shall we?

- Colonel?

I said no, Stephen.

Please, Captain. Your brother's very welcome.

I was wondering if you'd like to comment on the...

suicide of another Polish soldier yesterday?

Sosnowicz.

You don't look very surprised, Colonel.

Well, Mr. Underwood, it's always most distressing

when a proud man loses all hope.

And why would that be, Colonel?

Men like Sosnowicz spent the war fighting for their homeland, Mr. Underwood,

which is now part of the Soviet Union,

which regards them as enemies of the state.

He'd just learned his entire family had been murdered.

Colonel, please, we have no proof of that.

Clearly, he believed it enough to take his own life, Captain.

And why do you believe it, Colonel?

Because we all seem to have forgotten that in 1939

the Soviet Union invaded Poland,

in alliance with the Nazis and with the same intent, Mr. Underwood.

To wipe Poland from the map.

To destroy its culture, and its people.

When the Soviets retook Poland in 1944,

they allowed the Nazis to crush the Warsaw Uprising

to help eliminate any possible threat to their own occupation.

The recent so-called "free" elections in Poland

are no more than a Soviet puppet show.

No, Poland's true government is still exiled in London,

but it is no longer recognized by Britain or the United States.

And last year, the Free Polish Armed Forces

were excluded from your Victory Parade.

So as not to antagonize Comrade Stalin.

What does this tell you, Mr. Underwood?

That all is well?

I understand the world is weary of war.

We all are.

But that's no excuse for naivety.

Your brother knows this.

He still has the unenviable task of trying to persuade

my fellow compatriots to return to Poland,

knowing full well he cannot guarantee their safety.

No one has to go back if they don't want to, Colonel.

Yes, Captain. Of course.

Colonel, please. Breakfast is waiting.

- Mm. - I have to see you tonight.

- Eight thirty, at the King's Arms. - No, that's too public.

No, there are only ever locals there.

Mm. Fine.

Eight-ish?

I have to go. Mason wants to see me.

Do you have to?

- You know I do. -

Come.

Ah! Thank you, Stanley.

You're still on duty?

I hardly ever see you out of uniform these days.

You hardly see me at all.

I know, I'm sorry. There's a bit of a flap on at the moment.

Anyway, good of you to come.

We've been invited to the annual ball at the Robinsons'.

Oh, God. Is it that time of year already?

I know, tedious in the extreme, but, er...

I would really appreciate it if we could attend together this year.

- Your parents will be there. - I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you.

It might look at bit odd if, er, if I go alone.

Might set a few tongues wagging.

- If we must. - Splendid.

Oh!

One more thing before you go.

You might be in the perfect place

to do me another favor, if you would?

Er... Loboda and Nowak,

two DPs who arrived in your camp this morning.

You're very well informed, as always.

Could you be a real brick and keep me appraised of their whereabouts?

Movements, visitors, friends, that sort of thing.

Why?

It's probably nothing. Some vague memo from London.

Nothing to worry about. Just so I know.

I wouldn't expect you to run across town every morning.

A simple telephone call will suffice.

I know you must be busy with your whole repatriation commotion.

- Yes. - Mm.

Is that all?

Well, I should be getting back.

Oh, please, don't let me detain you any longer.

Er, but if we could, er...

keep this just between ourselves?

Of course.

So we're happy then?

What?

- The Robinsons' ball? - Yes. Yes.

- Fine. - Hmm.

You know why he married you, hmm?

He is not the monster you want him to be.

So your father has the right to sell you to the highest bidder?

They genuinely thought he would make a good husband.

They only want what's best for me.