Hello and welcome to Saluting Dad's Army -
a four part series celebrating the world of Walmington-on-Sea,
and the enduring brilliance of a comedy show which first hit the
air way back in 1968, but continues to win new fans all the time.
Welcome too, to this recreation of Captain Mainwaring's office,
though perhaps I shouldn't say that as Mr Hodges,
the air raid warden, would claim it's his office,
and then the vicar would say "Actually, it's my office",
and we'd never hear the end of it. So, in this series, we aim to
take you inside Dad's Army as never before,
with specially recorded interviews and rare footage
which together tell the full story behind British television comedy's
finest half hour.
For nine years and 80 episodes, the men of Dad's Army were in the
front line of the ratings battle, and we'll learn how the
show's success changed the lives of its stars.
Dad's Army restored my father's confidence in himself.
Good evening.
We'll discover the stories behind some of the show's
most dramatic scenes.
John Le Mesurier was deliberately kept out of it because he was
so impractical.
We knew that he would not help at all.
In fact, he'd probably make it worse.
And we'll uncover rarely seen sketches featuring the
platoon on royal duties.
What is it, sir?
They're never going to accept this at the palace, you know.
There's a chance to see the cast and crew hard at it in rehearsal,
and to hear from the 21st century comedy stars who grew up loving
that weekly visit to Walmington-on-Sea.
Dad's Army was probably the most popular viewing
in the Dennis household, cos it was one of those series
that you could watch with your mum and dad and it wasn't embarrassing.
That was the brilliant thing about it,
it just seemed to work for everyone.
You know, sometimes, Wilson, I don't think you have
the stomach for this job.
Well, there you have the advantage over me, Sir.
To kick off, we're going back to the beginning,
to hear about the inspiration for Dad's Army and how it
reflected the reality of wartime life,
to meet people directly involved in the birth of the show,
and to find out how the heroes of Walmington-on-Sea
not only defined Hitler and his Nazi hordes,
but rapidly captured the hearts of the British public.
Don't panic! Don't panic!
Would you kindly step this way, please.
Oh, Wilson, bark it out, bark it out!
Right, would you kindly step this way, please!
They might use that torture where they tip your head back
and pour gallons of water down you.
Oh, dear, I don't think I can stand to imagine that.
We're doomed.
Doomed.
How about a nice bit of rabbit?
Huh! Rabbit? You'll be lucky. I haven't seen one for six weeks.
You have now.
You stupid boy.
However, Dad's Army's march to comedy greatness
did encounter some pitfalls.
I shouldn't go too far that way, Mr Mainwaring,
there's a great big...
That's it!
Right at the outset, presented with the idea of a comedy series about
the wartime Home Guard, many senior managers here at the BBC asked...
Do you think it's wise?
The story behind Dad's Army really begins in May 1940,
with the Nazi Blitzkrieg of western Europe.
The government, led by new prime minister Winston Churchill,
decided action was needed to defend Britain against
a potential German invasion.
Minister of War, Anthony Eden,
was responsible for the government's plan.
Yes, Miss King? It's Anthony Eden, sir.
In person?
On the wireless.
They say it's very important.
Eden made an historic broadcast to the nation,
including the Swallow Bank in Walmington-on-Sea.
WIRELESS BUZZES
ANTHONY EDEN: We want large numbers of such men in Great Britain,
who are British subjects, between the ages of 17 and 65.
17 and 65.
The name of the new force will be the Local Defence Volunteers.
This name describes its duties in three words.
The response to the radio appeal was dramatic.
Before he'd finished broadcasting,
people were pouring down to the police stations.
Within a week, they had 300,000 men.
Within three weeks, about 1.4 million men.
NEWSREEL: In the Local Defence Volunteers,
now renamed the Home Guard,
the country has a new and powerful shield against invasion.
Those volunteers were brave men, actually,
because they were the first line of defence in the case of an invasion.
OK, an invasion never happened,
but there was no way of knowing that it wouldn't.
It seemed a real possibility.
That possibility seemed very real in an early episode of Dad's Army...
Believing the Germans have landed,
the Walmington platoon faces the ultimate sacrifice.
Now let's cross over to the key position.
Three determined men could hold an army there,
deny the enemy his access of attack.
If we can hold out for long enough there,
it'll give our regular troops time to regroup
for the counterattack, you see?
Mind you, probably be the end of us,
but we're ready for that aren't we, men?
Of course.
Among early volunteers like these, was teenager Jimmy Perry.
Jimmy's service in the Home Guard began here on Barnes Common
in south-west London.
Nearly 30 years later, he would draw on those experiences to write
what became Dad's Army.
Yes, I was in the Home Guard when I was 16,
and we all thought it was terribly funny then cos we were
young boys, you see, and we were full of aggro, and we loved it.
He told us at the first rehearsal that he was Pike.
He actually was a young boy in the platoon, wherever he was.
Just look at this, Mr Mainwaring!
Naaaaaa!
Stop, stop it!
From the off, Dad's Army reflected the reality of wartime life.
This rare colour footage shot in may 1940 shows
Local Defence Volunteers drilling in the Surrey town of Woking,
and the scene isn't really very different from those
early days in Walmington-on-Sea.
Squad shun!
Stand at ease.
The men of Dad's Army really were showing what life had been like
for those first volunteers.
Sounds laughable, but they were equipped with
some very old Lee-Enfield rifles,
and that was about the best they got at first.
And some of them had pikes or spades,
or anything that you thought you could bash a Nazi with.
What's that supposed to be, boy?
Well, you said if you had nothing else,
we'll tie a carving knife to a broom handle.
I didn't say keep the brush on the end of it, you stupid boy.
Well, you should've said! I don't want any insubordination.
The fact the Germans were going to invade,
when you're 16 you're not thinking about that.
You're going "ah-ha-ha-ha," and playing it, and loving it,
and doing house clearing, and charging about,
and really enjoying it.
We didn't realise the gravity of the situation.
Right, bayoneting and screaming at Mr Hitler in person,
in your own time. Go!
Naaaaa!
With his wartime memories to draw on, in 1967 Jimmy Perry sat down
to write a television comedy script which he called The Fighting Tigers.
I had the idea just one day, and I sort of got the idea together,
and I was working with David as an actor, and I mentioned it,
and it went from there.
And so a partnership began between bit part actor
and Home Guard veteran Jimmy Perry,
and teenage air raid warden turned army officer,
turned BBC producer, David Croft.
They would work together for more than 25 years,
and across four hit television series,
though even on the very early episodes, it was clear that
Jimmy and David were quite distinct characters.
I had no idea who Jimmy Perry was, this lovely man,
beautiful big blue eyes, beaming, laughing at everything.
David was very quiet, unassuming, but there was an authority there.
There was great discipline in the rehearsal room.
At the suggestion of BBC Head of Comedy, Michael Mills,
The Fighting Tigers became Dad's Army.
The challenge now was to turn Dad's Army from a script to a show,
and that meant convincing sceptical executives
at BBC Television Centre.
There was the thought that perhaps we were taking the mickey out
of England's finest hour, so they weren't all that keen really.
Years later, Huw Wheldon, managing director of BBC Television when
Dad's Army was proposed, remembered being certain the show would fail.
I belong to a very distinguished group indeed
of very senior BBC programme executives
whose distinction lay in this -
that we knew for certain that a script called Dad's Army
wouldn't work.
LAUGHTER
The controller of BBC One also had some misgivings.
The tiny doubt I had about Dad's Army was there's a fine line
to be drawn between mocking them and having fun with them.
Well, kick the door in. Oh, right, roger. Right, sir.
At the door!
Kick! Kick!
Having been a soldier myself, and David Croft having been
a soldier, he observed that very clearly.
And David was a genius.
He decided...
He knew exactly where the line was drawn between mocking them
and having a bit of fun.
It looks a bit deep to me, Mr Mainwaring.
No, it's all right, Jones. We can cross here.
Do you think that's wise, sir? Don't argue, Wilson.
I tell you, I can see the bottom. Oh, good. Follow!
HE SHOUTS, SPLASHING
Are you all right, Mr Mainwaring, sir?
Coming up in part two of Saluting Dad's Army,
ruffled feathers on the first day of filming...
And he said to me "Arthur? That'll have to change."
..the last minute changes to episode one...
We'd been timing it, and we find we're four minutes over.
..and Dad's Army has its doubters.
I know my wife looked at it and she thought,
"I don't know whether this is gonna succeed."
Welcome back to this celebration of Dad's Army.
Of course, one big reason why the series ran for nine years
and still has millions of loyal followers
was the absolute genius of its casting.
The line-up was just inspired,
ranging from newcomer Ian Lavender as Private Pike,
to veteran actor and playwright Arnold Ridley as Private Godfrey,
and John Laurie, a major stage and screen name, as Private Frazer.
He was a star.
He'd done lots of films.
Great Shakespearean actor.
He was the only one my mother had heard of.
However, the rest of the platoon might have looked rather different.
Name?
My card.
Joe Walker, wholesale supplier?
I suppose you won't be with us very long.
Be called up any day I should think. Oh, no, God, no, no, no.
I'm a...whatshisname, a reserved occupation.
How do you make that out?
Well, I'm a wholesale supplier, ain't I?
I mean, I supply central supplies.
Any previous military experience?
I've got a girlfriend in the ATS.
Londoner James Beck as cast as the likable rogue Private Joe Walker,
but Jimmy Perry had created the role with someone very specific in mind.
He wanted Jimmy Beck's part.
He wrote Walker for himself.
You know that whisky you get every week don't fall off a lorry
on its own accord.
Has to be pushed.
But before Dad's Army headed to its Norfolk base to begin
location filming in April 1968, Jimmy had been persuaded not
to play Walker, and to concentrate on writing the show,
though Jimmy did appear in the first series
as musical comedian Charlie Cheeseman.
And now, customers, a little number dedicated
to all fire watchers entitled
I Can't Get Over A Girl Like You, So Turn Out The Lights Yourself.
Thank you.
While in one of the most memorable scenes in all of Dad's Army,
actor and comedian Jack Haig plays a pub landlord who has
some very unexpected visitors.
What can I get...
Good afternoon, mein host.
16 shandies mit der ginger beer.
But in 1967, the BBC wanted to contract Jack Haig
as Lance Corporal Jones, a role which would eventually be taken,
and then immortalised, by an actor already known for playing characters
much older than himself, 48-year-old Clive Dunn.
Permission to speak, sir. Yes.
Why don't we chop off their trouser buttons? What?
If we chop off their trouser buttons and they try to run away,
that would show something unusual.
I haven't come to the exciting bit yet.
All right, later, later, later.
Don't panic! Don't panic!
There's a Nazi paratrooper dangling form the clock tower
of the town hall! Yes, yes. He's dangling, he's dangling!
We know, we're just going. I'll get my rifle and my bayonet, sir!
You don't need your bayonet. Yes, I do!
When he comes down, they don't like it up 'em.
As with so much of Dad's Army, the character of
Lance Corporal Jones drew directly on Jimmy Perry's own experiences
in the Home Guard.
I remember being on Barnes Common with this old soldier
who'd fought in the Battle of Omdurman in 1898.
I served in that campaign with some distinction, you know.
I said what are we gonna do if the Germans come?
He said, "If the Germans come, son, you'll do as you're told."
And his boss at the BBC expected David Croft to do as he was told
when casting the key role of Captain Mainwaring,
and hire established character actor John Le Mesurier.
John Le Mesurier was wished on me, actually, by Michael Mills.
Michael Mills was the Head of Comedy.
He said, "Well, you know, I think he ought to play the officer."
I pondered this problem, and I just could not see him,
and so sooner or later we got this magic idea of him playing the
sergeant and Arthur Lowe playing the officer,
and it worked like a dream.
Arthur Lowe was familiar to millions form his years
as store manager Leonard Swindley in Coronation Street.
Now David Croft had decided Arthur was officer material,
and that John Le Mesurier should play his sergeant.
There were people around who thought that John Le Mesurier should
play the captain, and Arthur Lowe the sergeant,
but David stuck to his theme and he, of course, was right.
The casting was brilliant.
Now the first thing to do is to appoint
a properly appointed commander. A what, sir?
Appoint a properly appointed commander.
That's me.
All right?
All right.
As Captain George Mainwaring,
Arthur Lowe would write himself into comedy history.
He brought a gift for physical comedy...
Very well, remember...
..alongside impeccable delivery.
I don't want any fuss, I just want to be like an ordinary sergeant.
I'm sure that would suit us all, Wilson.
And brilliantly captured Mainwaring's middle class resentment
of the upper class Sergeant Wilson,
so memorably played by John Le Mesurier.
I should've known not to trust that smarmy Captain Stewart.
Well, you can't blame him, sir. I mean he's got a job to do.
Oh, you'll stick up for him, won't you?
You both went to public schools, didn't you? You know, I...
can't help feeling, sir, you've got a little bit of
a chip on your shoulder about that.
There's no chip on my shoulder, Wilson.
I'll tell you what there is on my shoulder, though.
Three pips, and don't you forget it.
Over the years, there would be suggestions that Arthur Lowe
shared some characteristics with the self-important Captain Mainwaring.
When location filming began on the first series here in Norfolk,
there were already signs that Arthur was a little status conscious.
On the very first day, this fellow came out of the hotel to get
onto the coach, and Arthur was sitting alongside me,
and suddenly the extras came in,
and as they walked past us one of them said, "Arthur, good morning."
And they carried on, and he said to me "Arthur?
"That'll have to change."
Jimmy Perry was famously upbeat,
but not everyone felt the same way when shooting began.
The first day of filming, we were delayed because it was snowing -
it was supposed to be summer.
And David, half past 11 he said, "I think we'll go for a shot
"in about ten minutes, go and tell 'em."
And he's a terrible swankpot, he had his Rolls-Royce there,
and they were all crammed in this Rolls-Royce,
and the windows were all steamed up. And I opened the door,
and they were all sitting in there, and I said,
I was full of enthusiasm, I said "Right, fellas,
"ten minutes we're going for a take, the first take for Dad's Army."
And Arthur said "We'll come when we're ready."
And I closed the door and I went back to David and I said,
"We've got a right miserable load of old sods here."
Within a few years of its first appearance,
Dad's Army was drawing huge audiences and winning major awards.
But in 1968, that success looked a distant prospect to some people,
as set designer Paul Joel discovered when he took the first scripts home.
I was excited, and I know my wife looked at it and she thought,
"I don't know whether this is gonna succeed."
While here in the BBC canteen, a young actor
in the first series met plenty of sceptics
among his fellow professionals.
They just sort of scoffed at us and said, "Oh, that'll never work."
I don't want any of that sort of talk here, Wilson.
8th of April 1968, first day rehearsal.
When it was read out loud by everybody then the laughs came,
because you could see how each line fitted the character.
Them fuzzy wuzzies,
they was the only one that could break the British square!
Not like those Jerrys, they couldn't break the skin off a rice pudding.
They don't like the cold steel, you see, sir.
They don't like it up 'em you see, sir.
They don't like the...
Get him a chair, Wilson.
Together, Jimmy Perry and David Croft would create 80 scripts
for Dad's Army, but they made a miscalculation on the
very first episode, as Gordon Peters,
cast to play a fireman, discovered.
I got a call on the evening of the third day from David saying
"Look, I don't know how to say this, Gordon, but we've been timing it
"and we find we're four minutes over, and the only solution,
"we're going to take the whole chunk of your scene as the fireman."
This is the scene in question, involving elaborate comedy business
with hoses and Lance Corporal Jones getting his head stuck in a ladder.
I was disappointed, of course I was.
If I'd known then what a success it was going to be,
I'd have been heartbroken.
As it was, a considerate David Croft softened the blow.
He was really so apologetic.
He was a nice man, David.
He said "I promise you, I promise you faithfully
"I will use you in later episodes."
Within weeks, David Croft was true to his word,
and Gordon made the first of several appearances in Walmington-on-Sea.
Once more, sir. Oh, for heaven's sake.
So the script had been written and cut to the appropriate length,
the show had been cast, the sets had been built.
It was now time to put Dad's Army to the test.
Coming up in part three, the first episode reaches the studio,
and the audience isn't impressed...
I think we all thought we'd flopped.
..how Dad's Army started a battle within the BBC...
And the title sequence seemed to me too brutal.
..and I meet a veteran of the Home Guard, the real Dad's Army.
Welcome back.
In the 1970s, Dad's Army was a huge hit show,
featuring elaborate scenes worthy of a feature film.
But that success was some way off when the studio clock started
running on Episode One: The Man And The Hour, on the 15th of April 1968.
I think we were all nervous because it was the first one.
Five, four, three...
On the very first programme of Dad's Army, I was a vision mixer.
That's somebody who sits with the director
and cuts from camera to camera.
I was a commissioned officer, Wilson, and I served in France...
during the whole of 1919.
Yes, but the war ended in 1918, I thought, sir.
Well, somebody had to clear up the mess. Oh, yes, of course.
The audiences in the studio always seemed to love the programme
as it was recorded, although I don't believe the very first episode
was a great success.
Right, who's in charge here?!
I am, why? Right, well get this hall cleared out at once!
Bill Pertwee got a much bigger reception during the warm-up
than we did doing the actual show.
So get this lot out so I can carry on with my lecture!
Are you asking the army to retreat?
Why not? You've had plenty of practice lately.
I think we all thought we'd flopped.
As if that weren't enough, the controller of BBC One
wasn't impressed by the idea for the Dad's Army title sequence,
strongly advocated by Head of Comedy Michael Mills.
It was a title sequence that depicted refugees fleeing
down the roads in France, German planes coming over to strafe them,
and that became a big argument with Michael Mills,
cos Michael was determined to have the original title sequence
and I was just as determined that the original title sequence
was not on.
The dispute over seeing wartime events like this at the start of
a comedy series led to the exchange of some forthright memos at the BBC.
But the argument was only going to have one winner.
Even now, all those years later,
I still feel it was right to have a title sequence that depicted comedy.
Britain was finally introduced to Walmington-on-Sea
when Dad's Army, and a title sequence which would soon
become very familiar, made it to the air
at 8:20pm on Wednesday, the 31st of July 1968.
But this was months later than planned.
Everything from football finals to dramatic world events had
conspired to delay transmission at least twice.
To start a comedy series in July, during the holiday period,
is not a good idea.
But there it was. By that time, we were committed.
There was a hole in the schedule.
It had to go, which was the important thing to do.
Now, men, you answered your country's call today.
We're all here to defend our homes and our loved ones,
and I know that you will not shirk that duty.
With no guns, we are naked, but we have one invaluable weapon in
our army - ingenuity and improvisation.
That's two.
So the following morning, the reviews were in,
and they were kind of mixed.
The Daily Mail wrote...
The Daily Telegraph commented...
But the reviewer in the Daily Express was spookily accurate
when he predicted...
There had definitely been some anxiety at the BBC about
a comedy series set when Britain was in peril,
but soon viewers were writing in to say how much they enjoyed
that way Dad's Army depicted the war years.
One lady claimed that butchers like Mr Jones needed to be made
of steel to withstand the flattery of their female customers.
Have I got enough for a joint?
Well, Mrs Fox, of course, would do anything for half a pound of,
you know, skirt or kidneys or a sausage.
Well, I suppose being a butcher, your business life is
rather difficult at the moment, isn't it?
Oh, it is, it is, sir.
Everyone wants a bit under the counter.
Yes, I'm sure they do.
If I could tell you some of the things that's been offered to me
for a bit on the side, it'd make your hair stand on end.
I guess it would.
Another viewer remembered that her husband had been on a
Home Guard exercise to capture a farm.
His platoon couldn't work out why no-one was defending it until
they realised the farm they were meant to be attacking was
actually five miles away.
Just the kind of mix up that would become familiar
in Walmington-on-Sea.
Just been on the phone to HQ quarters.
"Captain Mainwaring in position 641937," I said.
"That's the target," he said.
I've given him the wrong number.
I'll forget me own name next.
641937 is definitely where Captain Mainwaring went.
Are you sure? Absolutely.
I never forget a number.
They wanted me to go to the accounts department once, you know,
but I didn't fancy it.
But if that's the target for the 25 pounders,
it'll all get blown up. Oh, dear!
Well, don't panic, don't panic.
I'll tell 'em to stop the firing on the phone.
Don't panic! Don't panic!
But what did veterans of the real Home Guard make of Dad's Army?
In March 1969, the BBC'S Talkback programme found out.
The characters in this are very, very true,
and the fun that was had
and the things that happened are right to the point.
To hear it first-hand about life in the Home Guard
and its portrayal in Dad's Army, I've come to Norfolk to meet
one of our very few surviving Home Guard veterans, Mr Peter Blackburn.
Peter, it's a real privilege to meet you,
an actual member of the Home Guard.
When you watch Dad's Army do you recognise the Home Guard
as you knew it?
In some respects, yes.
It did have its moments.
We had to do a lot of marching...
Yeah. ..battle drill and suchlike.
So we did have a lot of that to do.
You were working on your parents' farm.
Yes. That was a reserved occupation.
You couldn't be spared,
so you weren't allowed to join the Armed Forces.
Yes, that's correct.
Why did you join the Home Guard?
What was it that led to that?
Well, basically, I loved shooting.
Other chaps, they went in for the ARP or other things,
but I preferred the Home Guard.
I want to shoot. yeah.
So what was your history in the Home Guard?
How old were you when you joined up? I was 17 years.
17 years, two days. Wow.
Yes. Wow, so you had to be 17 to join up?
Yes. You didn't hang about, did you? That's right, yes.
You were the pike of your outfit.
Sort of, yeah.
Peter enjoyed the Home Guard's drills and shooting practice,
but the reality of war was never far away.
We did have a lecture. Yeah.
and they said "Now, boys, Germans are coming.
"We know that, they're coming.
"You're short of ammunition, and we don't want any Germans
"to hold us prisoners, and so when you take any captive
"use your bayonet."
Use your bayonet?
Now, I could not have done that. No.
I couldn't have stuck a bayonet into a rabbit let alone into somebody.
It's pretty gruesome, isn't it?
But we were told - "no prisoners."
So given the Home Guard confronted matters of life and death,
was the BBC right to worry about how its veterans
would react to Dad's Army?
There was that concern.
The BBC were very much wondering how people would take it.
Fair enough. But as we all know, it went perfectly.
So when you watch Dad's Army now, do you like it?
Yes, very much so.
Mr Mainwaring. Hmm?
Please may I look after the Tommy gun? Please?
Oh, very well. Thank you.
They also call it the Chicago Piano.
What did you say?
The Chicago Piano.
Stupid boy.
Across 80 episodes of Dad's Army,
Jimmy Perry and David Croft's scripts regularly found inspiration
for comedy in actual events of the war years.
There's an episode of Dad's Army where they defeat an
opposing Home Guard unit by firing onions out of what
looks like a very crude gun.
Fire!
In fact, that gun really did exist.
It was called a Smith gun.
So that's bang-on there.
Coming up in part four, the original vision
for Mrs Mainwaring...
..memories of the stars from those early episodes...
No, no, my dear boy, the pleasure's all mine.
..and forthright opinions about the scripts.
"Ooh, I wouldn't want that rubbish in my home."
Welcome back to Saluting Dad's Army,
and the stories behind the birth of this classic show told by
the people who saw it all happen,
from the rehearsal room to the studio.
John Le Mesurier was a particularly interesting person for me
to observe.
Watching him in the rehearsal room,
he was totally engrossed in The Times crossword
throughout the week, but as soon as his cue came, he was there spot-on.
Meanwhile, Arthur Lowe made a favourable impression
on Richard Kitteridge, a young actor hired as one of the platoon's
back row boys ahead of the second series.
Arthur Lowe was a very dedicated actor.
He really got into the part.
I mean, didn't matter how many times you did it in rehearsals,
it was funny every time he said something.
However, even on those early shows it was clear Arthur Lowe
and John Le Mesurier had different approaches to their work.
John Le Mesurier had one of those eidetic memories that
he could just look at a page and he'd sort of memorised it.
And word perfect, which was very impressive,
because he didn't look as if he knew what was going on at all.
But, unfortunately, Arthur Lowe was not very good on script,
and that was always a little bone of contention in the studio.
Hey, where do you think you're going? It's only 5:15!
Playing bank employee Janet King,
relative newcomer Caroline Dowdeswell could observe
Arthur Lowe's working methods at first-hand.
King. Yes, sir?
Draw those blinds on your way out, will you, please?
He always carried the script with him in rehearsal,
which I found very comforting, and it was only years later
I found out he never took the script home, and they were
always terrified in the box if he'd come out with the right lines.
I intend to ignore what has just happened,
and I shall expect a full turnout on Saturday.
And quite a lot of the, I think, the character of Mainwaring
came from the fact that he did forget his lines,
and he then managed to get through it with kind of ums and ahs.
Well, be that as it may, I would've welcomed a sample of...
of cooperation from you as my second in command.
So therefore, that's part of the excitement
of doing those early episodes.
That sense of excitement was plain to a young actor guesting
in the first series as a captured German pilot.
The audience reaction was fantastic,
I mean, particularly in the church hall scene where we were
captured and brought in, and Arthur Lowe was interrogating us.
He got his script in a terrible muddle, and the audience loved it.
I mean, they just loved to see all these little mistakes.
Arthur Lowe's reluctance to spend time learning his lines gave rise
to stories that he didn't have a high opinion of the
Dad's Army scripts, but this idea is dismissed by his son, Stephen Lowe.
Arthur did so much work, other work as well as Dad's Army,
in parallel to recording Dad's Army, that sometimes he hadn't done
his homework and he hadn't really learnt his lines.
Ah.
I was just wondering who would be the first to spot that.
So, one day, David Croft, in his exasperation, said
"Arthur, you couldn't possibly take the script home and learn
"your lines, could you?"
And my father this thing that's become famous now, you know,
"Ooh, I wouldn't want that rubbish in my home."
And of course, he didn't think it was rubbish.
He held David Croft and Jimmy Perry in the highest regard.
He thought they were brilliant writers.
When I was first informed that I was no longer to be your
commanding officer,
I must admit that my first reaction was to go away quietly.
And then I thought - "No, the defence of this town
"must come first."
This country needs every able-bodied man it can get.
And...
..I was very proud to lead you as Captain Mainwaring.
I shall be equally proud to march in your ranks as Private Mainwaring.
That's all.
Arnold Ridley, I think David had to sort of wake up occasionally because
he'd be sitting in the corner doing his crossword, and sitting on
a little stool that he carried around with him all the time.
While we're rushing here and there and running the flag up
the pole, old Godfrey will still be trying to climb out of the van.
That's a bit of an exaggeration, isn't it?
No, it's not an exaggeration, it's plain for all to see.
The man's decrepit!
No offence, mind you.
John Laurie, I remember him in make-up.
He'd come in and everyone was fussing over Arnold
or John Le Mesurier, and nobody was taking any notice of him,
and he'd stomp off again.
John Laurie entertained the nation as James Frazer,
the mournful undertaker based here in the high street.
Dear Mrs Pickering, I hope you found the funeral arrangements
for your late husband entirely satisfactory.
May I say how sorry I was that the hearse ran out of petrol
just outside the cemetery.
I'm sure your dear departed husband would have been proud of the way
you helped to push him to his final resting place.
Mr Frazer seems ideally suited to his chosen profession,
but it seems he changed his career late in life,
because when the first volunteers turn up here at
St Aldhelm's Church Hall in episode one, Frazer's in
a completely different line of work.
Name? James Frazer.
Occupation? I keep a philatelist's shop.
How do you spell that?
S-H-O-P.
Frazer's change of profession was just one way Dad's Army
developed from its very early days.
Take the residents of 23 Lime Crescent, Mr and Mrs Mainwaring.
Elizabeth Mainwaring is the unseen presence who looms over
her husband day and night.
Are you awake, Elizabeth?
But Jimmy Perry's original drafts of what became Dad's Army
do feature Mrs Mainwaring in vision.
She's described as a thin, shivery lady about 40,
and calls her husband "dear."
So Dad's Army evolved before and after it reached the screen,
but at least one element remained utterly consistent -
Captain Mainwaring's uncompromising hostility to the
Nazi hordes poised across the Channel.
Now there are one or two things to look at here,
but i want you to take particular notice of the eyes.
You see the eyes? Mean, shifty, set too close together.
Typically Nazi.
Now the thing to look for here is this red nasty bull neck
with the flesh bulging out over the top.
That's also typically Nazi.
Mr Mainwaring, aren't there any nice looking Germans?
No.
The platoon chased a German pilot across the countryside
for miles, only to discover he'd been chasing them.
Why do you keep running away?
I have been trying to give myself up.
In the face on the poster,
they somehow end up inside a camp for German prisoners of war.
They also did their best to rescue a German parachutist
hanging from the town hall clock.
And of course there was an unforgettable confrontation
with a captured U-boat commander.
Now you want plaice and chips, they're getting cod and chips,
and that's four with vinegar, three with salt and two without salt or vinegar.
Walker, what are you doing?
I'm taking the order.
And I don't want any nasty soggy chips.
I want mine crisp...
..und light brown.
Crisp und light... Never mind that rubbish!
Captain Mainwaring seemed to think that his showdown
with Captain Muller was his first crack at the Nazis.
Face-to-face with the enemy at last, eh?
He'd obviously forgotten that encounter with the enemy
in the very first series.
Sir, permission to speak, sir. Yes.
We've captured a couple of jerry parachuters. You've what?
Yes, sir, just showed them the cold steel, they come quiet as mouses.
They don't like it up 'em you know, sir.
In the script, the regular cast kept their guns trained on
their prisoners, but behind the scenes the stars' generosity
made a lasting impression on a young actor playing
one of the first Germans seen in Dad's Army.
We were stuck behind for this little scene where German pilots
were captured by Clive Dunn.
We were left on our own, the three of us, and so I said
to Clive Dunn, "Look, I've had no experience of television comedy.
"Can you tell us what to do?"
And he was really, really kind, so that was special for me.
After the show and a visit to the bar, it was time to say goodbye
to the stars, including the oh-so urbane John Le Mesurier.
And I said, "Thank you very much, sir, it's been a real pleasure
"to meet you and work with you for this week."
He said, "No, no, my dear boy, the pleasure's all mine."
I don't know whether he was sending me up, but he was a real gentleman.
Hello.
Wilson, Wilson.
How many times do I have to tell you not to say hello on the telephone?
Announce yourself officially.
This is HQ number one company B Platoon,
Walmington-on-Sea Home Guard, and you are platoon Sergeant Wilson.
Yes, right. Now this is HQ number one platoon B Company
Walmington-on-Sea Home Guard,
and this is platoon Sergeant Wilson speaking, yes.
Oh, hello!
Viewers just lapped up Dad's Army.
The average audience for series one in 1968 was just over
eight million viewers.
When series two hit the air just months later,
that figure rose to 12 million.
Once it had got going,
I mean the genius of David Croft and Jimmy Perry and the cast made this
such a sure fire hit that it was vital to the schedule of BBC One.
All right, I wouldn't say I was all that important.
Would you, Wilson?
No, I don't think so.
I can't think of a comedy series that was so certain to
be renewed as Dad's Army.
So, after a slightly uncertain start,
Dad's Army became a runaway success, literally.
Halt, Mr Mainwaring!
Stop, Mr Mainwaring!
Stop, all your money's falling out!
I've got to attract his attention.
Fine.
Next time on Saluting Dad's Army,
the stories behind the hey-day of this classic series...
I think we ended up in a ditch.