by R C Sherriff
RALEIGH: Oh, Lord, I can't!
OSBORNE: You must.
RALEIGH: How topping if we both get the MC!
OSBORNE: Yes. [Pause.] Your coffee sweet enough?
RALEIGH: Yes, thanks. It's jolly good coffee. [Pause.] I wonder what the Boche are doing over there now?
OSBORNE: I don't know. D'you like coffee better than tea?
RALEIGH: I do for breakfast. (Pause.) Do these smoke bombs make much row when they burst?
OSBORNE: Not much. [Pause.] Personally, I like cocoa for breakfast.
RALEIGH [laughing]: I'm sorry!
OSBORNE: Why sorry? Why shouldn't I have cocoa for breakfast?
RALEIGH: I don't mean that. I – mean – I'm sorry to keep talking about the raid. It's so difficult to – to talk about anything else. I was just wondering – will the Boche retaliate in any way after the raid?
OSBORNE: Bound to – bit.
RALEIGH: Shelling?
OSBORNE:
‘The time has come,’ the Walrus said,
‘To talk of many things:
Of shoes – and ships – and sealing wax –
Of cabbages – and kings.'
RALEIGH:
'And why the sea is boiling hot –
And whether pigs have wings.'
OSBORNE: Now we're off! Quick, let's talk about pigs! Black pigs or white pigs?
RALEIGH: Black pigs. In the New Forest you find them, quite wild.
OSBORNE: You know the New Forest?
RALEIGH: Rather! My home's down there. A little place called Allum Green, just outside Lyndhurst.
OSBORNE: I know Lyndhurst well.
RALEIGH: It's rather nice down there.
OSBORNE: I like it more than any place I know.
RALEIGH: I think I do, too. Of course, it's different when you've always lived in a place.
OSBORNE: You like it in a different way.
RALEIGH: Yes. Just behind our house there's a stream called the Highland; it runs for miles – right through the middle of the forest. Dennis and I followed it once as far as we could.
OSBORNE: I used to walk a lot round Lyndhurst.
RALEIGH: I wish we'd known each other then. You could have come with Dennis and me.
OSBORNE: I wish I had. I used to walk alone.
RALEIGH: You must come and stay with us one day.
OSBORNE: I should like to – awfully
RALEIGH: I can show you places in the forest that nobody knows about except Dennis and me. It gets thicker and darker and cooler, and you stir up all kinds of funny wild animals.
OSBORNE: They say there are ruins, somewhere in the forest, of villages that William the Conqueror pulled down to let the forest grow.
RALEIGH: I know. We often used to look for them, but we haven't found them yet. [Pause. ] You must come and help look one day.
OSBORNE: I'll find them all right.
RALEIGH: Then you can write to the papers. ‘Dramatic Discovery of Professor Osborne!’
[OSBORNE laughs.]
OSBORNE: I did go exploring once – digging up Roman remains.
RALEIGH: Where was that?
OSBORNE: Near my home in Sussex there's a Roman road called Stane Street; it runs as straight as a line from the coast to London.
RALEIGH: I know it.
OSBORNE: Near where I live the road runs over Bignor Hill, but in recent times a new road's been cut round the foot of the hill, meeting the old road again farther on. The old road over the hill hasn't been used for years and years – and it's all grown over with grass, and bushes and trees grow in the middle of it.
RALEIGH: Can you still see where it runs?
OSBORNE: Quite easily, in places.
RALEIGH: Did you dig a bit of it up, then?
OSBORNE: Yes. We got permission to dig out a section. It was in wonderful condition.
RALEIGH: Did you find anything?
OSBORNE: We found a horseshoe – and a Roman penny.
RALEIGH [laughing]: Splendid!
OSBORNE: It's awfully fascinating, digging like that.
RALEIGH: It must be.
[OSBORNE glances at his watch. ]
Is it time yet?
OSBORNE: Two minutes. Then we must go up. I wish we had a good hot bath waiting for us when we get back.
RALEIGH: So do I. [Pause. ] We're having something special for dinner, aren't we?
OSBORNE: How did you know? It's supposed to be a secret.
RALEIGH: Mason dropped a hint.
OSBORNE: Well, we've had a fresh chicken sent up from Noyelle Farm.
RALEIGH: I say!
OSBORNE: And a most awful luxury – two bottles of champagne and half a dozen cigars! One each, and one spare one in case one explodes.
RALEIGH: I've never smoked a cigar.
OSBORNE: It's bound to make you sick.
[RALEIGH notices OSBORNE'S ring on the table; he picks it up.]
RALEIGH: I say, here's your ring.
OSBORNE: Yes. I'm – leaving it here. I don't want the risk of losing it.
RALEIGH: Oh! [There is silence. He puts the ring slowly down.]
OSBORNE [rising]: Well, I think perhaps we ought to get ready.
RALEIGH: Yes. Righto. [He also rises.]
OSBORNE: I'm not going to wear a belt – just my revolver, with the lanyard round my neck.
RALEIGH: I see. [He puts his lanyard round his neck and grips his revolver.] I feel better with this in my hand, don't you?
OSBORNE: Yes. Something to hold. Loaded all right?
RALEIGH: Yes.
[They put on their helmets. OSBORNE takes his pipe from his mouth and lays it carefully on the table. ]
OSBORNE: I do hate leaving a pipe when it's got a nice glow on the top like that.
RALEIGH [with a short laugh): What a pity!
[There is another pause. OSBORNE glances at his watch as it lies on the table. ]
OSBORNE: Three minutes to. I think we'd better go.
RALEIGH: Righto.
[Their eyes meet as OSBORNE turns from the table. ]
OSBORNE: I'm glad it's you and I – together, Raleigh.
RALEIGH [eagerly]: Are you – really?
OSBORNE: Yes.
RALEIGH: So am I – awfully.
OSBORNE: We must put up a good show.
RALEIGH: Yes. Rather!
[There is a short pause. ]
OSBORNE: Let's go along, shall we?
RALEIGH: Righto.
[They go towards the steps. MASON comes to the entrance of his dugout as they pass. ]
MASON: Good luck, sir.
OSBORNE: Thanks, Mason.
MASON: Good luck, Mr Raleigh.
RALEIGH: Thanks.
[OSBORNE and RALEIGH go up together into the pale evening sun. MASON tidies the papers on the table; picks up the two coffee mugs, and goes away. There is silence in the trenches above the deserted dugout. Then, suddenly, there comes the dull ‘crush’ of bursting smoke bombs, followed in a second by the vicious rattle of machine-guns. The red and green glow of German alarm rockets comes faintly through the dugout door. Then comes the thin whistle and crash of falling shells; first one by itself, then two, almost together. Quicker and quicker they come, till the noise mingles together in confused turmoil. Yet the noise is deadened by the earth walls of the tiny dugout, and comes quite softly till the whine of one shell rises above the others to a shriek and a crash. A dark funnel of earth leaps up beyond the parapet of the trench outside; earth falls and rattles down the steps, and a black cloud of smoke rises slowly out of sight. Gradually the noise dies away – there is a longer pause between the crash of each bursting shell. The machine-guns stop – rattle again and stop – rattle for the last time – and stop. Voices are calling in the trench outside; STANHOPE'S voice is heard:]
STANHOPE: All right, sir. Come down quickly!
COLONEL: How many?
STANHOPE: Only one.
[Another shell whines and shrieks and crashes near by. There is silence
for a moment, then STANHOPE speaks again. ]
Hurt, sir?
COLONEL: No. It's all right.
[STANHOPE, pale and haggard, comes down the steps, followed by the COLONEL.]
STANHOPE [calling up the steps]: Bring him down, sergeant-major.
S-M [above]: Coming, sir.
STANHOPE [to the COLONEL]: You won't want me, will you?
COLONEL: Wel – er –
STANHOPE: I want to go and see those men.
COLONEL: Oh, all right.
[STANHOPE goes to the door, making way for the SERGEANT-MAJOR to come down, followed by a bareheaded GERMAN BOY, in field grey, sobbing bitterly. Behind come two SOLDIERS with fixed bayonets. STANHOPE goes up the steps. The SERGEANT-MAJOR takes the GERMAN BOY by the arm and draws him into the centre of the dugout to face the COLONEL, who has seated himself at the table. The two SOLDIERS stand behind.]
S-M [soothingly to the GERMAN BOY]: All right, sonny, we ain't going to 'urt you.
[Suddenly the BOY falls on his knees and sobs out some words in broken English. ]
GERMAN: Mercy – mister – mercy!
S-M: Come on, lad, get up.
[With a huge fist he takes the BOY by the collar and draws him to his feet. The BOY sobs hysterically. The COLONEL clears his throat and begins in somewhat poor German. ]
COLONEL: Was ist sein Regiment?
GERMAN: Wurtembergisches.
COLONEL: Was ist der Nummer von sein Regiment?
GERMAN: Zwanzig.
COLONEL [making a note]: Twentieth Wurtembergers. [He looks up again. ] Wann kommen sie hier?
GERMAN: Gestern abend.
COLONEL [making a note and looking up again ]: Wo kommen sie hier?
GERMAN [after a moment's thought]: Mein Geburtsort?
COLONEL [forgetting himself for a moment]: What's that?
GERMAN [in halting English]: You – wish – to know – where I was – born?
COLONEL: No! What town did you come up to the line from?
GERMAN [after a little hesitation ]: I – do not tell you.
COLONEL: Oh, well, that's all right. [To the SERGEANT-MAJOR] Search him.
[The SERGEANT-MAJOR'S big fists grope over the BOY'S pockets. He produces a small book. ]
S-M [giving it to the COLONEL.]: Looks like 'is pay-book, sir.
COLONEL [looking eagerly into the book]: Good.
[The SERGEANT-MAJOR has found a pocket-book; the GERMAN BOY clutches at it impulsively. ]
S-M: 'Ere, stop that!
GERMAN: Lassen sie mich! [He pauses.] Let – me – please – keep – that.
S-M [very embarrassed]: You let go! [He wrenches the case away and gives it to the COLONEL.]
COLONEL [glancing at the papers in the case]: Look like letters. May be useful. Is that all, sergeant-major?
S-M [looking at a few articles in his hands]: 'Ere's a few oddments, sir – bit o' string, sir; little box o' fruit drops; pocket-knife, sir; bit o'cedar pencil – and a stick o'chocolate, sir.
COLONEL: Let him have those back, except the pocket-knife.
S-M: Very good, sir. [He turns to the GERMAN BOY with a smile.] 'Ere you are, sonny.
[The GERMAN BOY takes back the oddments.]
COLONEL: All right, sergeant-major. Send him straight back to my headquarters. I'll question him again there.
S-M: Very good, sir. [He turns to the GERMAN.] Come on, sonny, up you go.
[He points up the steps. The GERMAN BOY, calm now, bows stiffly to the COLONEL and goes away, followed by the two SOLDIERS and the SERGEANT-MAJOR. The COLONEL is deeply absorbed in the German's pay-book. He mutters ‘Splendid!’ to himself, then looks at his watch and rises quickly. STANHOPE comes slowly down the steps.]
COLONEL [excitedly]: Splendid, Stanhope! We've got all we wanted – 20th Wurtembergers! His regiment came into the line last night. I must go right away and ‘phone the brigadier. He'll be very pleased about it. It's a feather in our cap, Stanhope.
[STANHOPE has given one look of astonishment at the COLONEL and strolled past him. He turns at the table and speaks in a dead voice. ]
STANHOPE: How awfully nice – if the brigadier's pleased.
[The COLONEL stares at STANHOPE and suddenly collects himself. ]
COLONEL: Oh – er – what about the raiding-party – are they all safely back?
STANHOPE: Did you expect them to be all safely back, sir?
COLONEL: Oh – er – what – er –
STANHOPE: Four men and Raleigh came safely back, sir.
COLONEL: Oh, I say, I'm sorry! That's – six men and – er – Osborne?
STANHOPE: Yes, sir.
COLONEL: I'm very sorry. Poor Osborne!
STANHOPE: Still it'll be awfully nice if the brigadier's pleased.
COLONEL: Don't be silly, Stanhope. Do you know – er – what happened to Osborne?
STANHOPE: A hand grenade – while he was waiting for Raleigh.
COLONEL: I'm very sorry. And the six men?
STANHOPE: Machine-gun bullets, I suppose.
COLONEL: Yes. I was afraid – er –
[His words trail away; he fidgets uneasily as STANHOPE looks at him with a pale, expressionless face. RALEIGH comes slowly down the steps, walking as though he were asleep; his hands are bleeding. The COLONEL turns to the boy with enthusiasm.]
Very well done, Raleigh. Well done, my boy. I'll get you a Military Cross for this! Splendid!
[RALEIGH looks at the COLONEL and tries to speak. He raises his hand to his forehead and sways. The COLONEL takes him by the arm. ]
Sit down here, my boy.
[RALEIGH sits on the edge of OSBORNE'S bed. ]
Have a good rest. Well, I must be off. [He moves towards the steps, and, turning once more to RALEIGH as he leaves] Very well done. [With a quick glance at STANHOPE, the COLONEL goes away. ]There is silence now in the trenches outside; the last shell has whistled over and crashed. Dusk is beginning to fall over the German lines. The glow of Very lights begins to rise and fade against the evening sky. STANHOPE is staring dumbly at the table – at OSBORNE'S watch and ring. Presently he turns his haggard face towards RALEIGH, who sits with lowered head, looking at the palms of his hands. STANHOPE moves slowly across towards the doorway, and pauses to look down at RALEIGH. RALEIGH looks up into STANHOPE'S face, and their eyes meet. When STANHOPE speaks, his voice is still expressionless and dead.]
STANHOPE: Must you sit on Osborne's bed?
[He turns and goes slowly up the steps. RALEIGH rises unsteadily, murmurs ‘Sorry’ and stands with lowered head. Heavy guns are booming miles away. ]
THE CURTAIN FALLS
SCENE 2
Late evening on the same day.
The dugout is lit quite festively by an unusual number of candles. Two champagne bottles stand prominent on the table. Dinner is over.
STANHOPE, with a cigar between his teeth, lounges across the table, one elbow among the plates and mugs. His hair is ruffled; there is a bright red flush on his cheeks. He has just made a remark which has sent HIBBERT and TROTTER into uproarious laughter; he listens with a smile. TROTTER is sitting on the box to the right of the table, leaning back against the wall. A cigar is embedded in his podgy fingers; his face is a shiny scarlet, with deep red patches below the ears. The three bottom buttons of his tunic are undone, and now and then his hand steals gently over his distended stomach. HIBBERT sits on the bed to the left, his thin white fingers nervously twitching the ash from his cigar. His pale face is shiny with sweat from the heat of the candles; his laugh is high-pitched and excited. TROTTER speaks in a husky voice as the laughter dies away.
TROTTER: And what did she say to that?
STANHOPE: She said, ‘Not in these trousers’ – in French.
[TROTTER and HIBBERT burst into laughter again.]
TROTTER [coughing and wheezing]: Oh – dear-o-dear!
STANHOPE: I simply drew myself up and said, ‘Very well, mam'sel, have it your own way.’
TROTTER: And she did?
[Again the others laugh. TROTTER wipes a tear from his eye.]
TROTTER Oh, skipper, you are a scream – and no mistake!
HIBBERT: I never forget picking up a couple of tarts one night and taking 'em out to dinner.
