The all-in-one-shot battlefield run of Lance Corporal Schofield (George Mackay) in the movie 1917 has gotten a lot of media attention, and it sure is impressive. In order to deliver his message to call off the attack, Schofield bravely leaves the crowded trench for the battlefield in order to arrive faster. The scene is symbolic. Most films about the Great War are negative, with an understandable focus on the human cost. 1917, which is loosely based on the life of the grandfather of Director Sam Mendes, looks for hope.
“Unlike most onscreen World War I battles, Schofield is not charging out toward the German lines; he’s spring across, parallel to the trench. Thematically, too, the final run flips what we’re used to seeing. Our hero is not heading toward the enemy and certain death; he’s going back to his own men, to redemption. In a sequence that has traditionally been shorthand for futility, Mendes goes for hope.”
The running scene is something else, I’ll admit. However, it’s the images immediately before that scene which had the biggest impact on me. The soldiers are in the trench, waiting for the signal to attack. They will soon charge full of adrenaline, which helps to cope with the unthinkable anxiety. There is no adrenaline in the wait though. Only misery. Watching soldiers perched in a trench waiting for their inevitable demise is excruciating.
There’s a Roo Tale about an AC soldier named John Morgan Currie. Currie perished at the Battle of St. Mihiel on September 12, 1918, just minutes after emerging from a trench and into No Man’s Land. Like the death of all soldiers who died in that merciless conflict, his failure to make it home left a mark. But the biggest impact was a quote from a book about the battle of St. Mihiel. It detailed the painful wait as the hours and minutes advanced towards the 5:00 a.m. launch of the attack. You almost wish for time to hurry up, so the anxiety can end and the adrenaline can take over.
“’No reprieve,’ I muttered. ‘No reprieve from the punishment of five o’clock.’ It was all a dream; a nightmarish dream, this business of five o’clock. Remember, it was nearly half a mile to the Bois de la Sonnard and the first line [of defense] we must rout out of the woods. Five o’clock. The crushing weight hung like a pall over the bluffing words of Jim, who griped about our lack of wire cutters and bombs; over Pierce’s sarcastic rejoinder that maybe Gen. Pershing would call off the war until Jim got fixed. Five o’clock. I tried to whip myself into a fury of hate, but hate simply would not come to relieve the gnawing fear. Four thirty-five…four thirty-eight; time was fleeting, fleeting toward the end. Would the suffocating burden never lift? ‘See you in Essey,’ barked Jim, above the swishing shells. Four fifty-seven…four fifty-eight. ‘Good luck, good luck,’ the voices rang…”
The final running scene is loosely based on the Third Battle of Ypres in Belgium, which in real life was not called off. The battle, which began in July of 1917, resulted in huge casualties on both sides and mercifully ended in early November. At its launch in July, John Morgan Currie was undergoing officer training on Long Island, New York. By November, Currie was in France awaiting his Company’s first engagement. That first engagement came in early 1918 at Neufmaisons in Belgium, not far from the fighting in Ypres.
I’m trying to figure out which Roo Tales will be in the book. Some won’t make the cut. Most will. This one about John Morgan Currie, though, is like shooting 59 in the opening round of the Masters. It is easily in.
If you have a favorite story you believe should definitely not be excluded, please let me know. I’d hate give the heave ho to one you really like.
