EXT. LONDON PARK-LATER THAT AFTERNOON

Former SERVICE MEN are protesting and demanding reinstatement of their jobs prior to the war. Sassoon and Robert walk past them along a nice garden path.

ROBERT

I miss it...the front. Life was much simpler, and my parents were proud of me.

SASSOON

Proud of the fact that we could die at any moment.

INT. TRENCH-DAY-FLASHBACK

Robert charging through no man’s land in a white haze of smoke. He is alone when an explosion is heard. Robert stops in his tracks. A trail of blood from the top of his head drips down into his eyes, and Robert collapses.

ROBERT (V.O.)

But I did die Sass. I was declared dead at the Somme along with eight thousand of my brothers. On my eighteenth birthday no less.

EXT. TRENCH-DAY-FLASHBACK

Robert lies among the war dead.  A CORPORAL catalogs the bodies. Robert slowly comes too.  His moans reach the ears of the CORPORAL who drops his note pad and assists a semi-conscious Robert.

ROBERT (O.S.)

I sometimes wonder for every famous dead war poet, there were fifty might have beens. If I didn’t come back to life that night, where would I have been placed? Above Brooke? Below Owen? Perhaps if I had died, the poems I wrote at the front would haven been enough to sustain my reputation? My father’s?

EXT. LONDON PARK-AFTERNOON

Robert and Sassoon watch the protesting soldiers.

ROBERT

And now I am in debt, poor, and without an ounce of inspiration to draw upon.