Journey's End

by R C Sherriff

  TROTTER [winking at STANHOPE]: 'E's orf again.

  HIBBERT: We drank enough bubbly to sink a battleship –

  STANHOPE: To float a battleship.

  HIBBERT: Well – to float a battleship. Then I took 'em for a joy-ride out to Maidenhead – did sixty all the way. We danced a bit at Skindles, and drank a lot of port and muck. Then damned if I didn't lose the way coming back – got landed miles from anywhere. And these tarts began cursing me like hell – said I'd done it on purpose. I said if they didn't damn well shut up I'd chuck 'em both out in the road and leave 'em.

  STANHOPE [ironically]: Hurrah! That's the idea! Treat 'em rough!

  HIBBERT [giggling]: That shut 'em up all right! Then I started doing about sixty down all sorts of roads – I went round a corner on two wheels with those girls’ hair on end – didn't have any more trouble from them! [He chuckles at the memory, and takes an unsteady gulp of champagne. ]

  STANHOPE: You're the sort of man who makes girls hard to please.

  TROTTER [heavily ]: Well, I never 'ad no motor-car; my old lady and me used to walk; legs is good enough for me.

  STANHOPE: You satisfied with legs?

  TROTTER: I am – yes!

  STANHOPE: Much cheaper.

  HIBBERT [laughing delightedly]: That's damn good!

  STANHOPE [raising his mug ]: Well, here's a toast to legs – God bless 'em!

  HIBBERT [raising his mug]: Good old legs!

  TROTTER [raising his mug]: Shanks' mare.

  STANHOPE: Shanks' what?

  TROTTER: Shanks' mare, they call 'em.

  STANHOPE: Call what.

  TROTTER: Why – legs.

  HIBBERT [almost screaming with delight]: Oh, Trotter! you're a dream!

  TROTTER [turning a baleful eye on HIBBERT]: You've 'ad too much champagne, you 'ave.

  [HIBBERT takes a leather case from his pocket and produces some picture postcards. ]

  HIBBERT: I say, I've never shown you these, have I?

  [He hands them one by one to STANHOPE, smiling up into STANHOPE'S face for approval. ]

  STANHOPE: Where did you get these from?

  HIBBERT: In Bethune. [He hands up a card.] She's all right, isn't she?

  STANHOPE: Too fat.

  HIBBERT [looking over STANHOPE'S shoulder]: Oh, I don't know.

  STANHOPE: Much too fat. [He hands the card to TROTTER.] What do you think, Trotter?

  [TROTTER takes a pair of pince-nez from his pocket, balances them on his fat nose, and looks at the picture. ]

  HIBBERT: All right, isn't she?

  TROTTER: Well, I don't know. If you ask me, I'd rather 'ave a decent picture of Margate Pier.

  HIBBERT [impatiently]: Oh, you don't understand art. [He hands another card to STANHOPE. ] There's a nice pair of legs for you.

  STANHOPE: Too thin – aren't they, Trotter? [He hands TROTTER the card. ]

  TROTTER [after some thought ]: Scraggy, I call 'em.

  HIBBERT [handing STANHOPE another card]: That's the one I like best.

  STANHOPE: Not bad.

  HIBBERT: Glorious bedroom eyes.

  STANHOPE: She's all right.

  HIBBERT: Ever see that show Zip at the Hippodrome? Couple of damn fine girls in that – twins. Did you see 'em, skipper?

  STANHOPE [wearily]: I don't know – seen stacks of shows – can't remember them all. [He brightens up.] Now then, swallow up that bubbly! Hi! Mason!

  MASON: Yessir! [MASON appears.]

  STANHOPE: Bring some whisky.

  MASON: Yessir. [He disappears.]

  TROTTER: What? Whisky on top of champagne?

  STANHOPE: Why not? It's all right.

  TROTTER: Well, I don't know; doesn't sound right to me. I feel as if somebody's blown me up with a bicycle pump.

  STANHOPE: You look it, too.

  TROTTER [blowing a stream of cigar smoke up to the dark ceiling]: Any'ow, it was a jolly fine bit o' chicken – and I'd go a mile any day for a chunk o' that jam pudding.

  [MASON brings a bottle of whisky.]

  STANHOPE: Your pudding's made Mr Trotter feel all blown out, Mason.

  MASON: I'm sorry, sir; it wasn't meant, sir.

  TROTTER: It was all right, Mason, take it from me. I know a decent bit o' pudden when I see it.

  MASON: It was only boiled ration biscuits and jam, sir. [He turns to STANHOPE] I thought I better tell you, sir – this is the last bottle.

  STANHOPE: The last bottle! Why, damn it, we brought six!

  MASON: I know, sir. But five's gone.

  STANHOPE: Where the devil's it gone to?

  MASON: Well, sir, you remember there was one on the first night – and then one –

  STANHOPE: Oh, for Lord's sake, don't go through them one by one; this'll last till sunrise. [He turns to TROTTER and HIBBERT.] Sunrise tomorrow, my lads!

  TROTTER: Oh, forget that.

  STANHOPE: You bet we will! Now then! Who's for a spot of whisky?

  TROTTER: I reckon I'm about full up. I'd like a nice cup o' tea, Mason.

  MASON: Very good, sir. [He goes out.]

  STANHOPE: Tea!

  TROTTER: Yes. That's what I want. Decent cup o' tea. Still, I'll just 'ave about a spoonful o' whisky – got a touch of palpitations.

  STANHOPE: Here you are – say when!

  TROTTER: Wo! That's enough!

  STANHOPE: You'll have a decent spot, won't you, Hibbert?

  HIBBERT: Yes. I'm game!

  TROTTER [stifling a hiccup ]: Just a cup o' tea – then I'll go and relieve young Raleigh. Pity 'e didn't come down to supper.

  STANHOPE: I told him to. I told him to come down for an hour and let the sergeant-major take over.

  TROTTER: I wonder why 'e didn't come.

  HIBBERT: That lad's too keen on his ‘duty’. He told me he liked being up there with the men better than down here with us.

  STANHOPE [quietly]: He said that?

  HIBBERT: Yes. I told him about the chicken and champagne and cigars – and he stared at me and said, ‘You're not having that, are you?’ – just as if he thought we were going to chuck it away!

  TROTTER: I reckon that raid shook 'im up more'n we thought. I like that youngster. 'E's got pluck. Strong lad, too – the way he came back through the smoke after that raid, carrying that Boche under 'is arm like a baby.

  HIBBERT: Did you see him afterwards, though? He came into that dugout and never said a word – didn't seem to know where he was.

  TROTTER: Well, 'e's only a lad.

  STANHOPE [to HIBBERT]: He actually told you he preferred being up with the men better than down here?

  HIBBERT: That's what he said.

  TROTTER: Well, I 'ope 'e gets the MC, that's all; 'e's just the kid I'd like if ever I 'ave a kid – strong and plucky.

  STANHOPE: Oh, for God's sake forget that bloody raid! Think I want to talk about it?

  TROTTER [surprised]: No – but, after all –

  STANHOPE: Well – shut up!

  TROTTER [uneasily]: All right – all right.

  STANHOPE: We were having a jolly decent evening till you started blabbing about the war.

  TROTTER: I didn't start it.

  STANHOPE: You did.

  TROTTER: You began it about –

  STANHOPE: Well, for God's sake stop it, then!

  TROTTER: All right – all right.

  HIBBERT: Did I ever tell you the story about the girl I met in Soho?

  STANHOPE: I don't know – I expect you did.

  HIBBERT [undismayed]: It'll amuse you. I'd been to a dance, and I was coming home quite late –

  STANHOPE: Yes, and it's late now. You go on duty at eleven. You better go and get some sleep.

  HIBBERT: It's all right. I'm as fresh as a daisy.

  STANHOPE: You may be. But go to bed.

  HIBBERT: What?

  STANHOPE [louder ]: I said, ‘Go to bed!’

  HIBBERT: I say, that's a nice end to a jolly evening!

  STANHOPE: I'm sorry. I'm tired.

  HI
BBERT [perkily ]: Well, you better go to bed!

  [There is silence. STANHOPE looks at HIBBERT, who sniggers.]

  STANHOPE: What was that you said?

  HIBBERT: I was only joking.

  STANHOPE: I asked you what you said.

  HIBBERT: I said, ‘You better go to bed.’

  [STANHOPE'S flushed face is looking full into HIBBERT'S. HIBBERT gives the ghost of a snigger. ]

  STANHOPE: Clear out of here!

  HIBBERT [rising unsteadily]: What – what d'you mean.

  STANHOPE: Get out of here, for God's sake!

  HIBBERT [blustering]: I say – look here –

  STANHOPE: Get out of my sight!

  [With a frightened glance at STANHOPE, HIBBERT sneaks quietly away into his dugout. There is silence, and the guns can be heard – deep and ominous. ]

  Little worm gets on my nerves.

  TROTTER: Poor little bloke. Never seen 'im so cheerful before out 'ere.

  STANHOPE: Doesn't he nearly drive you mad?

  TROTTER: I reckon 'e only wanted to keep cheerful.

  STANHOPE: Doesn't his repulsive little mind make you sick?

  [MASON brings TROTTER'S mug of tea and goes away. ] I envy you,

  Trotter. Nothing upsets you, does it? You're always the same.

  TROTTER: Always the same, am I? [He sighs. ] Little you know –

  STANHOPE: You never get sick to death of everything, or so happy you want to sing.

  TROTTER: I don't know – I whistle sometimes.

  STANHOPE: But you always feel the same.

  TROTTER: I feel all blown out now.

  [There is a pause. TROTTER sips his tea and STANHOPE takes a whisky.]

  'Ere's 'Ibbert's postcards. Funny a bloke carrying pictures like this about. Satisfies 'is lust, I s'pose – poor little feller. [He rises. ] Well, I'll go and relieve young Raleigh. Pity 'e didn't come down to supper. [He tries to button his tunic, without success. He buckles his webbing belt over his unbuttoned tunic, puts on his helmet, and slings his respirator over his shoulder. ] Well, cheero!

  STANHOPE: You realize you're my second-in-command now, don't you?

  TROTTER: Well, you 'adn't said nothing about it, but –

  STANHOPE: Well, you are.

  TROTTER: Righto, skipper. [He pauses. ] Thanks. [He goes towards the door. ] I won't let you down.

  STANHOPE: After your duty, have a decent sleep. We must be ready at half-past five.

  TROTTER: Righto, skipper. Well, I'll be going up. Give me a chance to cool off up there. It's as 'ot as 'ell in 'ere, with all them damn candles burning.

  STANHOPE: I suppose it is. My head's nearly splitting. [He blows out three of the candles, leaving the dim light of one. ]

  TROTTER [half up the steps ]: There's a bit of a mist rising.

  STANHOPE [dully ]: Is there?

  [TROTTER disappears into the night. STANHOPE broods over the table. ]

  Mason!

  MASON [outside]: Yessir!

  STANHOPE: You can bring Mr Raleigh's dinner.

  MASON: Very good, sir.

  [MASON brings a plate of steaming food, gathering up and taking away some of the used crockery. Presently RALEIGH comes slowly down the steps. He pauses at the bottom, takes off his helmet, and hesitates. STANHOPE is sitting at the table puffing at the remains of his cigar. There is silence except for the rumble of the guns. ]

  STANHOPE: I thought I told you to come down to dinner at eight o'clock?

  RALEIGH: Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think you – er –

  STANHOPE: Well? You didn't think I – er – what?

  RALEIGH: I didn't think you'd – you'd mind – if I didn't.

  STANHOPE: I see. And why do you think I asked you – if I didn't mind?

  RALEIGH: I'm sorry.

  STANHOPE: Well, we've kept your dinner. It's ready for you here.

  RALEIGH: Oh, it's awfully good of you to have kept it for me, but – I had something to eat up there.

  STANHOPE: You – had something to eat up there? What do you mean, exactly?

  RALEIGH: They brought the tea round while I was on duty. I had a cup, and some bread and cheese.

  STANHOPE: Are you telling me – you've been feeding with the men?

  RALEIGH: Well, Sergeant Baker suggested –

  STANHOPE: So you take your orders from Sergeant Baker, do you?

  RALEIGH: No, but –

  STANHOPE: You eat the men's rations when there's barely enough for each man?

  RALEIGH: They asked me to share.

  STANHOPE: Now, look here. I know you're new to this, but I thought you'd have the common sense to leave the men alone to their meals. Do you think they want an officer prowling round eating their rations, and sucking up to them like that? My officers are here to be respected – not laughed at.

  RALEIGH: Why did they ask me – if they didn't mean it?

  STANHOPE: Don't you realize they were making a fool of you?

  RALEIGH: Why should they?

  STANHOPE: So you know more about my men than I do?

  [There is silence. RALEIGH is facing STANHOPE squarely. ]

  RALEIGH: I'm sorry then – if I was wrong.

  STANHOPE: Sit down.

  RALEIGH: It's all right, thanks.

  STANHOPE [suddenly shouting]: Sit down!

  [RALEIGH Sits on the box to the right of the table. STANHOPE speaks quietly again.]

  I understand you prefer being up there with the men than down here with us?

  RALEIGH: I don't see what you mean.

  STANHOPE: What did you tell Hibbert?

  RALEIGH: Hibbert? I – I didn't say –

  STANHOPE: Don't lie.

  RALEIGH [rising]: I'm not lying! Why should I – lie?

  STANHOPE: Then why didn't you come down to supper when I told you to?

  RALEIGH: I – I wasn't hungry. I had rather a headache. It's cooler up there.

  STANHOPE: You insulted Trotter and Hibbert by not coming. You realize that, I suppose?

  RALEIGH: I didn't mean to do anything like that.

  STANHOPE: Well, you did. You know now – don't you?

  [RALEIGH makes no reply. He is trying to understand why STANHOPE'S temper has risen to a trembling fury. STANHOPE can scarcely control his voice. ]

  STANHOPE [loudly ]: I say – you know now, don't you?

  RALEIGH: Yes, I'm sorry.

  STANHOPE: My officers work together. I'll have no damn prigs.

  RALEIGH: I'll speak to Trotter and Hibbert. I didn't realize –

  [STANHOPE raises his cigar. His hand trembles so violently that he can scarcely take the cigar between his teeth. RALEIGH looks at STANHOPE, fascinated and horrified. ]

  STANHOPE: What are you looking at?

  RALEIGH [lowering his head]: Nothing.

  STANHOPE: Anything – funny about me?

  RALEIGH: No. [After a moment's silence, RALEIGH speaks in a low, halting voice. ] I'm awfully sorry, Dennis, if – if I annoyed you by coming to your company.

  STANHOPE: What on earth are you talking about? What do you mean?

  RALEIGH: You resent my being here.

  STANHOPE: Resent you being here?

  RALEIGH: Ever since I came –

  STANHOPE: I don't know what you mean. I resent you being a damn fool, that's all. [There is a pause. ] Better eat your dinner before it's cold.

  RALEIGH: I'm not hungry, thanks.

  STANHOPE: Oh, for God's sake, sit down and eat it like a man!

  RALEIGH: I can't eat it, thanks.

  STANHOPE [shouting]: Are you going to eat your dinner?

  RALEIGH: Good God! Don't you understand? How can I sit down and eat that – when – [his voice is nearly breaking ] – when Osborne's – lying – out there –

  [STANHOPE rises slowly. His eyes are wide and staring; he is fighting for breath, and his words come brokenly. ]