The feeling of knowing the time of one’s own death, and simply helplessly waiting for it, is excruciatingly painful and unbearable, yet it is even more so for one's friends who depend on such a figure. R.C. Sherriff’s World War I play ‘Journey’s End’, explores the impacts of the death of a respected officer on other soldiers. Throughout the play, Osborne builds strong connections with other Raliegh and Stanhope, only to die tragically and leave a lasting mark on his comrades.

Throug acts 1 and 2, Osborne develops a close connection with the new officer Raleigh. In contrast to Osborne’s maturity and level-headedness, having had lots of experience fighting in battle, Raleigh is naive and rather childish, with his gradual assimilation reflecting the public’s obliviousness and general negligence of the true horrors of the war. Osborne becomes a parental, guiding figure for Raleigh, who genuinely cares for him, slowly exposing him to the real conditions of the war and shattering his previously glorified, traditional notions. As they talk, Osborne warns Raleigh to “Think of [the German patrol lights] as - as romantic. It helps”. The surreal, almost romantic and beautiful image set above a war-torn battlefield reflects how the general public, including Raleigh, are utterly unaware of the true nature of war. Osborne’s sincerity when Raleigh advice is heartwarming and compassionate. Osborne is both pragmatic and caring: the dashes, reflecting the slight hesitation and his attempts to come off as caring, show that he fears hurting Raleigh by revealing the truth too soon, however, he feels obliged to bring him back to reality. Furthermore, before the raid, Osborne and Raleigh share a bitter-sweet moment of mutual bonding and friendship as Obsorne tries to calm Raleigh down. They discover their shared origins, and begin to joke about “William the Conqueror '' and “Roman remains”. Despite Obsorne’s own fear of dying, he still prioritises comforting Raleigh and alleviating his problems. The audience is fully aware that this scene will be the last time the two will have a proper conversation before Osborne dies, but the final heartwarming moment is an accurate reflection of the pair’s relationship, with Osborne acting as a calming, unifying presence and Raleigh showing Osborne respect and admiration. Throughout the play, Osborne can be seen conflicted, attempting to make the right choice which will cause the least damage and hurt the least people. His constant awareness of others and his willing acts of self-sacrifice as the company’s “Uncle” only amplify the tragedy when he dies.

Moreover, Osborne is also shown to have deep connection with his superior Stanhope, whom he remains fiercely loyal to despite his flaws and moments of emotional instability. During the play’s exposition, Osborne replies to Hardy’s criticism of Stanhope, claiming that “experience alone” made Stanhope worth “a dozen people like me”, and that he would “go to hell with him”. Possibly shocking to an early 20th century, highly religious British audience, Osborne’s metaphor immediately shows his unwavering loyalty to Stanhope and his staunch defence of his reputation, showing that Osborne was a reliable ally and a trusted friend of Stanhope’s. Osborne’s loyalty stems from his respect and admiration for Stanhope’s bravery and dutiful attitude to his work, but despite Stanhope’s gradual mental and physical deterioration, beginning to lose his command for respect and high standards he once held his men to, Osborne nevertheless continues to support him, comforting him and slamming him doing during his erratic emotional outbursts and moments of irrationality. Although Osborne is the one who is holding together Stanhope, and therefore holding together the company, he still sees Stanhope as the rightful and deserving Captain. Before Osborne leaves for the raid, he says goodbye to Stanhope for the last time. When he gives Stanhope his ring and personal belongings to hold onto, Stanhope protests “You’re coming back, old man. Damn it!”, and stating that he “Must have somebody to tuck me up in bed”. The audience cherishes the rare moment where Stanhope opens up and expresses his respect and care for Osborne, despite knowing that this will be the last time the two ever talk. In the face of fear and almost certain death, the two have no choice but to assume a false sense of confidence. Despite this, their apparent toughness only makes the audience feel even more helpless: their efforts to change the course of their fate only exemplify how futile their actions are, and how due to the sheer scale of the war, their struggles and frustrations become negligibly insignificant. Even during the heartwarming moment of connection, Stanhope continues to use humour and light-hearted banter as a coping mechanism, suppressing and disguising his fear that he may never see the “one man” who “understood everything”. The idea of tucking up Stanhope “in bed” evokes a sense of finality and completion, and without this, Stanhope’s life will feel incomplete or almost meaningless, where his duties and work will consume him without the calming, stabilising presence of Osborne. Despite the gruff exterior the two men put on, the audience can appreciate their unbreakable friendship masked beneath banter and irony, and how important this relationship is to Stanhope.

After the Raid, all the characters react differently to Osborne’s death. As soon as the Colonel sees Stanhope, he is overjoyed about the results of the raid, completely ignoring the loss of life, and exclaiming that the “brigadier” would be “very pleased”, and when he does remember to ask about the casualties, realising that dix of the ten men had died, Stanhope sarcastically responds “Awfully nice the brigadier’s pleased”. The Colonel is portrayed as utterly out-of-touch and detached from the realities of the war. To him, war means carrying out orders efficiently and reporting results to superiors, choosing not to form any emotional connections, knowing that they will inevitably lead to tragedy. His initial obliviousness and later superficial, passing sympathy for Stanhope only exacerbates his feelings of despair, acting as a stark contrast to the caring, friendly character of Osborne. The use of dramatic irony during the Colonel’s bluntness is painful for an audience to watch, only drawing the attention towards Stanhope: his hardened exterior and seeming lack of empathy means very few people, except for Osborne who truly understood his situation, feel sympathy for him and even attempt to show compassion.

In contrast to how unaffected the Colonel seems to be, Raleigh is depicted as deadened and soulless throughout the interaction. The raid, and in particular Osborne’s death, finally shatters his glorified image of the war, fuelled by extreme jingoism, patriotic propaganda and a naive, unquestioning acceptance of information. Before the raid, when the Colonel promises to try and get him a Military Cross, Raleigh is ecstatic and uncontrollably excited, even with the prospect of an imminent, brutal death. However, after returning from the raid and experiencing first hand the senseless, horrific slaughter of the European ‘war-machine’, Raleigh barely has the mental focus to respond to the Colonel’s offer, and merely “[looks at the Colonel and tries to speak]”, but only manages to “[sway]”. Raleigh is both mentally and physically paralysed, in a state of shock after the death of his paternal figure. He realises the meaninglessness of commendation and recognition from superiors if it means sacrificing his few friends in the trenches. Throughout the scene, Raleigh is silent and still on stage, contrasting his previous youthfully energetic depiction. His presence in the scene but lack of speech reflects Osborne’s unifying, calming qualities on stage in the background. However, Raleigh’s immaturity and still relative inexperience fails to truly unify the characters, missing Osborne’s indescribable caring qualities and only amplifying how different the play is without his presence. When the Colonel leaves, there is a long, extended silence on stage, forcing the audience to reflect on the gravity of Osborne’s death. Although time already feels slow in the trenches, the drawn out moment of tension between the two characters manages to stagnate the time even farther, drawing out the scene until Osborne finally mutters “Must you sit on Osborne’s bed?”, to which Raleigh “[murmurs ‘sorry’]”. The end of the scene is cold and eerily quiet, as though the life and soul of the dugout has died with Osborne. The symbol of the “bed” is mentioned again, representing a haven of safety and comfort, and one of the few times where Stanhope and Osborne can show their appreciation for the camaraderie they have built. However, after the death, the bed serves as a stark reminder of the futility of the war and the soldiers’ inability to escape the impacts of war: despite there being no physical combat in the dugouts, there are always symbols and objects present which are tied to their traumatic experiences. Since the stage and setting never changes, even during active combat, the bed is constantly there to remind the audience of Osborne’s absence. However, Stanhope is also highly protective of the bed, seeing it as his last connection to Osborne’s hospitality and kindness, so his cold and sarcastic question, although somewhat ignorant to the experience that Raleigh also shares, so the bed is depicted as a somewhat ambiguous image, possibly reflecting Stanhope’s racing thoughts and inability to rationally control his thoughts and comprehend his emotions.

Throughout the play, Osborne’s role only becomes more significant, as he is shown to adopt the title “Uncle” and is Stanhope’s most trusted comrade. His undeniably crucial role in holding the company together and helping Stanhope with his Captain duties becomes ingrained into the audience’s perception of the poem, making his death all the more tragic and upsetting. In the grand scheme of the war, Osborne’s death is small and almost forgettable, yet the raw and vividly traumatic effects on the soldiers in the company forces the audience to reflect on how truly significant one death is, let alone millions.