by Owen Sheers
Owen Sheers
The Two Worlds of Charlie F.
Contents
Title Page
Characters
THE TWO WORLDS OF CHARLIE F.
Act One
Act Two
In Hospital: Poona (1)
GLOSSARY
About the Author
Copyright
Characters
Charlie
British Officer
Charlie’s Mother
Lauren
Angus
John
Daniel
Roger
Leroy
Marc
Chris
Ali
Simi
Young Simi
Becky
Darren
Dave
Frank
Richard
Michelle
Sarah
Tracy
Marie
Rob
Psychologist
Chaplain
Singing Teacher
Delivery Men
Businessmen
Dancer 1
Dancer 2
Waitress
Nurses
Doctor
THE TWO WORLDS OF CHARLIE F.
Act One
SCENE ONE – WAKING
Footage of soldiers’ boots on patrol is projected on to gauze.
Lights fade.
Blackout.
Silence.
The sound of an IED explosion. In its wake military radio chatter, the thudding of a helicopter, loud at first then fading down.
Charlie (voice-over) Your hearing’s the last to go.
The radio crackle melds into the sound of a hospital, the digital heartbeat of medical machines getting louder.
And the first to come back.
The lights come up on a cloud of dust, still clearing from the stage. A hospital bed surrounded by screens, backlit. The silhouette of a man lying in the bed.
A non-Caucasian nurse enters and walks behind the screens. She carries a tray with a water bottle and a glass. She, too, is silhouetted as she works. As she dresses her patient’s stump he begins to stir.
Nurse What’s your name?
He stares at her, his breathing becoming rapid.
Charlie Fuck. You.
Nurse You’re in Birmingham, in hospital –
Charlie / Fuck you, you Taliban bitch!
Nurse / Can you remember your name?
Charlie (shouting) Help! Help! I’m in here! Here!
He tries to get out of bed but fails.
Nurse You’re in Selly Oak Hospital. Please, can you remember your name?
Charlie (shouting) ANA! ANA! ANA!
Nurse You’ll wake the other patients.
Charlie Help! Radio my position! Radio my position! ANA! ANA! ANA!
Nurse Would you like some water?
Charlie ANA! AN.… Water?
She pours a glass of water.
Oh no you don’t. You’re going to poison me. You think I’m fucking stupid? You’re going to kill me. That’s fucking cleaning fluid!
Nurse It’s from a bottle.
Charlie Show me.
She opens a fresh bottle in front of him and pours it into a plastic cup. As she approaches him Charlie knocks it from her hand.
Fuck off! I’m a British soldier! Help! Over here! It was the terp wasn’t it? I bet it was the fucking terp.
He begins singing ‘I’m Henry the Eighth I Am!’
The Nurse exits. When she re-enters she is with an Officer in British military uniform. Both enter the screens. Charlie stops singing.
You fucking turncoat! You motherfucking traitor! I swear, when I get out of here I am going to rip out your throat, shit down your neck and wipe your fucking gene pool from the face of the earth.
The Officer nods, then leaves. Charlie returns to his song.
Nurse You’re in Birmingham. In hospital. They’ll move you off the ward if you carry on like this.
Charlie (between bursts of song) Yeah, Birmingham, of course I am. Birming-fucking-ham? I don’t think so. Boss! Boss! Don’t leave me in here! Don’t leave me!
The Officer enters. He is with a young woman, Lauren. They both walk behind the screens.
At first Charlie doesn’t see her. He continues his shouting and swearing.
Lauren Charlie? Charlie, it’s me.
He turns to look at her and immediately starts crying.
Charlie Oh Jesus. Lauren, how did they get you? I swear, when I get out of here I am going to kill every one of you motherfuckers. Baby, have they hurt you? Did they torture you? If you’ve touched one hair on her head –
Lauren, shocked, begins to leave. The Officer exits with her. He returns with an older woman, Charlie’s Mother.
Charlie’s Mother Charles? It’s your mother. Calm down now, calm down.
Charlie Mom? No, no, not you too. No, this has to stop! This has to stop!
The cubicle goes dark. Charlie suddenly bursts through the downstage screen. He is in uniform, one leg missing, walking with a crutch. He walks downstage and looks at the audience.
Charlie You know when you fell off your bike? As a kid? Do you remember that pain? The one you don’t feel at first, but then you look down at your hand, your knee and it’s all gritty from where you bounced along the pavement. And that’s when it comes on, pulsing, and you’re like, ‘Ow, ow, ow, what the fuck?’
That’s what I remember. That kinda feeling. Grit in my hands, my knees.
In my mouth. The taste of it.
And the smell of Afghan. Gritty and shitty. Sand, skin flakes and shit.
That’s what I remember.
Beat.
I don’t remember waking up.
I don’t remember eating breakfast.
I don’t remember being given orders, or loading up, or leaving the compound.
I don’t remember going where we went.
I don’t remember walking through an archway, a low archway.
I don’t remember the IED going off.
None of that.
Beat.
What I do remember is taking down our ponchos the night before because there was a heelo coming in the next day. Then lying down in my trench on some shitty deflated air mattress and looking up at the Afghan stars which, let me tell you, are like no other fucking stars anywhere else.
Next thing I know, I’m being tortured by the fucking Taliban. For three weeks.
If anyone tries to tell you an induced coma is any kind of fun, they’re fucking lying. So, yeah, I realise I must have looked like a class-A asshole back there just now, but you have to understand I wasn’t in that hospital bed. Sure, I was in that bed, and as far as my fiancée and my mother were concerned I was there. Their Charlie was back. But at the same time he wasn’t. That round light above me? That was an observation hole. The screens? A temporary Taliban holding station. The nurse? Some devious fucking interrogator. The pain and the tubes? That was the torture.
‘I Am Henry the Eighth I Am’? No fucking idea. Didn’t even know that song had more than two lines.
Beat.
When British soldiers were wounded in the Napoleonic wars it took them months to get home, if they did. In World War One a fortnight at least. World War Two, about the same from France, much longer from India, Egypt, Burma.
Now? Medevaced from Nad Ali north to Bastion in twenty minutes, back in the UK in twelve, thirteen hours tops. But in here –
He taps his head.
Even quicker than that. Pretty much insta-fucking-taneous. Blink-of-an-eye kinda stuff. With a few weeks’ high-definition hallucinations thrown in for free.
The only problem
is that when you come back that quick not all of you comes back at once.
He lifts up his stump.
And I don’t mean the fucking obvious either.
Beat.
There was this one time, on Herrick Five. I was out on patrol. Sangin. Some kids came up. They were talking to one of the ANA soldiers. I asked him what they wanted. He said, ‘They want to know where you are from?’ I said, ‘Tell them the other side of the world.’ So he did. But then the terp started laughing. I asked him what was so funny. He said, ‘He told them you were from another world.’
At the time I told the terp to correct him. But now, well, I kinda think he might have had it right the first time round.
Beat.
Before we get any further I can see more than one of you out there are thinking ‘what kind of an accent is that for a Royal Marine anyway?’ Well, I’ll tell you, my friends. Canadian, that’s what, and don’t you fucking forget it. Or the Fijians, the Trinidadians, the Gambians, the Gurkhas. Oh yeah, thanks to your over-industrious forebears we’re all in this Afghan shit together, all us citizens of the Commonwealth.
And now, for the brief time we have together, so are you. So, shall we get started?
He throws a wide smile.
Let’s go on a tour.
SCENE TWO – HISTORIES
Charlie stands to attention.
Charlie PO56085M.
Cpl Charlie Fowler.
Aged twenty-six. B company 22 commando.
Injured in Nad Ali North September 23rd 2011.
I was on a Section assault on a compound when a western flank stepped on an IED. Op was successful. Medevaced from the area to Bastion and then to Selly Oak Hospital, UK. After three weeks in a medically induced coma, I spent four weeks at QE, then straight to Headley Court.
Halfway through his speech Charlie is joined on stage by Leroy, who also begins reciting his history as Charlie continues his at a lower volume. This pattern is repeated with each soldier entering earlier and earlier in the previous soldier’s speech until the stage is filled with wounded soldiers reciting their histories.
Leroy 25080678.
Rifleman Leroy Jenkins.
Aged twenty.
4th Batt, The Rifles.
Injured on 26th July 2009, Helmand Province, Afghanistan.
Both legs blown off in an IED strike, medevaced back to the UK.
Recovery in Selly Oak Hospital Birmingham for eight weeks. Rehab at Headley Court for a year. Awaiting medical discharge at Tedworth House.
Daniel 542711.
Major Daniel Thomas.
Aged thirty-seven.
2nd Battalion, Royal Welsh.
Injured by IED strike while commanding a company on 4th July 2009 in Babaji, Afghanistan.
Medevaced to Bastion, Khandahar, Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Birmingham.
Discharged after six weeks.
Spent seven months in Headley Court for Brain Rehabilitation. Awaiting medical discharge.
Richard 25223563.
SPR Richard Booth.
Aged twenty.
9 Parachute Squadron RE.
Injured on 19th July 2008 PB Armagh, Sangin, Helmand Province. Taliban ambush on a vector rescue op. IED blast to rear of Wimik – blown sixty feet into Taliban firing point. QRF on Quadbike taken back to FOB Jackson, Sangin. Medevaced to Camp Bastion, then Queen Elizabeth and Selly Oak.
Broken back four places, broken leg/arm, shattered heel, shrapnel legs, thigh, groin, lung contusion, head injury, ten-week strict bed rest. Told would never walk again, wheelchair bound, intensive rehab. After treatment returned to front line September 2010 but forced to return after nine months due to previous injuries. Awaiting spinal surgery and rehabilitation.
Frank po63793g.
Cpl Frank Taylor.
Aged twenty-five.
SFSG.
Injured on 1st February 2007 in Helmand Province.
Hit by RPG blast as storming Taliban compound. Medevaced via Black Hawk to Kandahar for initial treatment. Once stabilised flew back to Selly Oak Hospital, Birmingham. After six weeks began recovering physically but mentally struggling. Currently seeing psychologists in an establishment in Berkshire.
Roger 25886967.
Cpl Roger Smith.
B Company.
Aged thirty-seven.
2PWRR.
Injured on 26th August 2008 in Nad Ali, Afghanistan. I was commanding a Snatch three hundred metres short of jab when the vehicle hit an IED. I was blown clear of the vehicle, landing on my right shoulder and neck. Medevaced to Bastion. I had prolapsed discs at C5 and C7 in my upper spine and a dislocated shoulder. Medevaced back to UK. Sent to Selly Oak Hospital. Birmingham where discs at C6 and C7 were replaced. Presently undergoing rehab at Headley Court.
Dave 25031076.
Sgt Dean Barker.
Aged thirty-seven.
26 Engineer Regiment 8 Squadron.
Injured on 15th June 2007. I was driving in convoy in the lower Sangin Valley when my Pinzgauer hit an IED. I was thrown from the vehicle, sustaining two broken ankles and a damaged lower back. Medevaced from blast area to Camp Bastion. Flown to UK to Selly Oak Hospital. Sent back to regiment with ongoing physio. Awaiting below-knee amputation of right leg and reconstruction of left ankle. Also receiving treatment for PTSD. Discharge date, 11th April 2012.
Darren 25051100.
Bombardier Daz Sobey.
Aged thirty-four.
26th Regiment, Royal Artillery.
Injured on April 2007 on Salisbury Plain whilst commanding 105mm artillery light gun. Gun crew accidently crushed me bringing gun into action. Spinal damage and losing use of left arm. Had spinal surgery but remain in chronic pain and reliant on strong medication. Awaiting medical discharge.
Chris 25234412.
Lance Cpl Chris Brown.
Aged twenty-one.
1st Battalion, Coldstream Guards
Injured on 8th October 2009 on patrol near Sangin. An IED strike blew off my left leg. Medevaced to Camp Bastion and then to Selly Oak, Birmingham. Severe spinal and nerve damage. In Selly Oak for four months then Headley Court to begin rehab. Awaiting further ops.
Ali 24892357.
Sgt Ali Briggs.
Aged thirty-six.
12 Rgt, RA.
Injured on 17th Jan 2008 on Herrick 7 when a mortar round landed in my forward operating base. Shrapnel in my legs, mainly right knee. Medevaced to Bastion where initially treated, then flown back to Selly Oak Hospital, Birmingham. Transferred to Headley Court for intensive rehab. Awaiting elective below-knee amputation.
Marc 25163768.
Cpl Marc Anderson.
Aged twenty-four.
Royal Engineers.
Injured on 28th January 2008 in Basra, Iraq, by an IED strike. Suffered blast wounds and burns. Ongoing psychological symptoms so flown back to UK. Currently seeing CPN at Watson House RAF Leuchars. Awaiting discharge.
Simi W1042163.
Lance Cpl Simi Yeats.
Aged thirty-eight.
Injured 16 June 2010. Damage to left knee. Realignment of left leg at Frimley Park Hospital. Undergoing physio and rehabilitation at Headley Court, pending Army career outcome.
Becky 555557.
Capt Becky Robinson.
Aged thirty-four.
AGC (SPS).
Injured by a mine strike to my vehicle in Iraq, 23rd October 2005. Left leg badly broken. Medevaced from Shaibah Field Hospital to the UK. Five years reconstructive surgery. Rehab failed, lost function of foot and suffered chronic neuropathic pain. Leg amputated in June 2011. Rehab at Headley Court for six months. Awaiting medical discharge.
John 25014876.
SPR John Philips.
Aged thirty-seven.
9 Parachute Squadron, Royal Engineers.
Injured on Herrick 8, 2008, Sangin, Afghanistan. Shot through the right knee by a sniper whilst out on routine patrol in Sangin District. The bullet shattered my knee cap. Medevaced to Camp Bastion. Flown bac
k to UK. Rehab at Headley Court. Now categorised as a P3 soldier and working as a recruiting officer for the Army.
Angus 534979.
Cpl Angus Watson.
Aged thirty-two.
Coldstream Guards.
Injured on 30th May 2009, Sangin, Afghanistan. Mortar attack. Suffered shrapnel wounds to the stomach and leg. Medevaced to Camp Bastion and transferred to Selly Oak Hospital, Birmingham. There for six weeks, three of them in an induced coma. Transferred to Headley Court. Remained for seven months. Suffer from PTSD.
SCENE THREE – JOINING
The soldiers remain in their positions. They begin humming ‘Men of Harlech’. Charlie takes a step forward.
Charlie I joined up for a bet. I saw an advert for the Marines – ‘Ninety-nine point nine per cent need not apply.’ So I applied. I didn’t know what I was getting into. Didn’t have a clue. But when they told me it was the hardest training in the world, there was no fucking way I was going to quit, was there?
As each soldier speaks they also take a step/wheel forward.
Daniel My father was in the Army so I tried to stay out of it, to be honest. I was working in Tesco’s when I read an article about Sandhurst being short of officers.
Roger Well, the Gulf War had kicked off, hadn’t it? Everyone wanted a gun. I wanted a gun. My father-in-law had been giving me grief – telling me I couldn’t handle it. So I joined. That fucking showed him.
Darren Family tradition. My father was artillery, my uncle’s artillery, my great-great-grandfather was artillery. Even my nan was an ack-ack gunner.
Frank When I saw the Twin Towers go down, well, I thought I wanted to be part of it, you know, help sort it out. I was a bricklayer at the time but we’d had a hard couple of winters and we had our son on the way. So yeah, I joined for my family too.
Leroy I can’t remember the Twin Towers. I was ten years old when that happened. In my family, though, every male has to serve in the Army. I joined as soon as I could, when I was sixteen. My mother wanted me to wait. She’d already lost two of my brothers. One in the Falklands, another in the Gulf.
Chris I wanted to be a copper, but my dad said coppers don’t have no mates, so we went down the careers and I joined the Army instead. Coldstream Guards. My dad was dead proud.
