“There Goes One of the Loamshires”

“Get up, you bloody waste of space.”

“Here now, ‘fire hour’ has just ended.”

“Company, stand down.”

“Right, what’s for lunch?”

“You say lunch, lad? Hasn’t been anything good for months.”

“Mail call, chums.”

“Here, from Evelyn?”

“Idiot, that one’s mine, you bloke.”

“Dearest Henry, I am so happy to hear of your acquisition…”

“Oh, that’ll make the lonesome chaps broke.”

“Has anyone seen the captain?”

“Up there, lad, round the third bend, take first left.”

“Careful, there are snipers.”

“Bloody- Filthy mud.”

“You see that?”

“Blimey, here comes Fritz!”

“Stand down, lieutenant, it’s only our wounded.”

“Bloody idiots, it’s daytime.”

“Make way!”

“Hand it here, lad.”

“Proceed down-trench, over there.”

“Oh, ohh, ah.”

“It’s all right, lad; you’re safe now.”

“Nice job, laddie.”

“I’ll go escort.”

“No, you won’t, we need you here.”

“A little help? The machine gun is stuck.”

“Right, lad, where do you want it?”

“Left, it needs to be pointed left.”

“Wesley, we’re going out, want to catch a prisoner or two?”

“You’re bloody insane.’

“George needs a promotion, says a prisoner will get it for him.”

“He’s wrong.”

“I know, but gives us something to do.”

“Oh, look, here come the Loamshires.”

“New ones, too.”

“Half of ’em will be dead in the week.”

“Yes, more rations for us, I suppose.”

“I’ll see you, James, the company has been called back.”

“Right, good fortune.”

“Here comes Newman.”

“No blessing better than a walking wounded.”

“Charles, Francis, Edward; you’re up for wire repair tonight.”

“Yes, lieutenant.”

“Cards, anyone?”

“What we playing?”

“‘Black jack?’”

“Oy, I want a look through the periscope.”

“No you don’t.”

“Oh, let him have it, Peter. Nothing is better than the look on a new soldier’s face when they see what they have to put up with.”

“Ha, ha! Shows your bravery!”

“Shut up, bloody moron.”

“Careful, lad. Not too many new soldiers out here.”

“Hear about Milton?”

“How’d he go?”

“Shrapnel.”

“Oh.”

“Ah!”

“Ohh.”

“Ah! Ahhh!.”

“Lieutenant, another shell, we have casualties.”

“Count ’em up, let’s go. Friedrich, find the stretcher bearers.”

“Yes, lieutenant.”

“Oh, God, it’s John.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“It’s a chest wound.”

“Fifth Company, let’s go.”

“Third Company, on watch!”

“Jesus! Look at the star shells.”

“Fritz must be looking for us.”

“Was there an advance?”

“No, just wire repair.”

“Can’t see the bloody stars anymore.”

“’It’s a long way, to go. It’s a long way, to Tipperary, to the…'”

“Pipe cleaners, lad?”

“I have none?”

“Oh Hell, here comes the shelling again.”

“Hey, Isaac’s back.”

“How’s your head wound?”

“Better.”

“Evidently, if you’re back here. Sorry lad.”

“What was that?”

“Oh, there goes one of the Loamshires.”

"Right, goodnight, lads."

"Ha! That's a good one."

"Send word to Mary, for me."

"Will do."

"Oh, like you'll live to see that happen."

"See you in the morning."

"Or not."