Ryan's Daughter1970

Captain:
Well, if it's all the same to you, sir, I'll be straight off. I've given myself leave.

Randolph Doryan:
Yes?

Captain:
Embarkation leave. France. Second Batallion, Southeast Lanchasires... they're in the front line. Will you tell me something, man to man? What's it like, really - front line?

[Doryan's face expresses discomfort]

Captain:
Aye. Well, I'll find out soon enough. I'm a coward, you see. No, I always have been - from being a lad. I can't master it. Well, I don't suppose I've tried, really. I'd give my left arm to have a touch of what you've got. I hate it! Just the bloody thought of it gives me the shakes. In fact, that's my nightmare, the shakes. I don't mind dying - not if it's quick. Life's not that much, is it? I wouldn't mind having a gammy leg, like you've got - though I don't suppose it's funny. But the shakes? Shellshock? Just shaking and shambling like a... epileptic baby? Nay, I'd rather be dead! I can see what's coming - I'm going to disgrace myself...

Randolph Doryan:
You don't know what you'll do. No one does - you don't know what you're doing?

Captain:
Really? I read what you did in the newspapers. That weren't no flash in the pan - you'd do the same again, I dare say.

Randolph Doryan:
You'd be wrong.

Captain:
Well, you've done your bit - someone else's turn, eh?