Dato che se parla sui social mi è sbucata una info particolare, quello che sentiamo pronunciare da una radio è una poesia di Rudyard Kipling del 1915 che chiaramente dal testo parla della guerra, del logorio della marcia... insomma credo sia anche un indicazione di come sarà il film, promette bene. riporto la poesia :
We’re foot—slog—slog—slog—sloggin’ over Africa—
Foot—foot—foot—foot—sloggin’ over Africa—
(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up and down again!)
There’s no discharge in the war!
Seven—six—eleven—five—nine-an’-twenty mile to-day—
Four—eleven—seventeen—thirty-two the day before—
(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up and down again!)
There’s no discharge in the war!
Don’t—don’t—don’t—don’t—look at what’s in front of you.
(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up an’ down again);
Men—men—men—men—men go mad with watchin’ ’em,
An’ there’s no discharge in the war!
Try—try—try—try—to think o’ something different—
Oh—my—God—keep—me from goin’ lunatic!
(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up an’ down again!)
There’s no discharge in the war!
Count—count—count—count—the bullets in the bandoliers.
If—your—eyes—drop—they will get atop o’ you!
(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up an’ down again)—
There’s no discharge in the war!
We—can—stick—out—’unger, thirst, an’ weariness,
But—not—not—not—not the chronic sight of ’em—
Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up an’ down again,
An’ there’s no discharge in the war!
’Taint—so—bad—by—day because o’ company,
But night—brings—long—strings—of forty thousand million
Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up an’ down again.
There’s no discharge in the war!
I—’ave—marched—six weeks in ’Ell an’ certify
It—is—not—fire—devils, dark, or anything,
But boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up an’ down again,
An’ there’s no discharge in the war!
