The Two Worlds of Charlie F

by Owen Sheers

  As John removes his uniform.

  Angus Kit changes. Always has, always will. But human anatomy doesn’t change. And that’s why you’d better listen up good because this could make the difference between your mate going home on a stretcher or in a body bag.

  He takes out a red marker pen. As he talks he draws on John’s body.

  Angus Let’s start with the basics shall we?

  He takes a bottle of water from one of the soldiers.

  This is a litre of water. John’s got five litres of blood in his body. He can lose a litre of that, no problem. Two litres, getting tricky. More than that, he should start to worry. His heart, about the size of a fist, is here. When he starts oozing, this is pumping out the juice through his arteries. Going south through his thoracic aorta, out here, along his arms, and down here, along his thighs. And up here, supplying his tiny mind, his carotid artery. Right, so things have gone wrong for John and he’s stepped on an IED.

  What injuries is he likely to sustain? Probably lose a leg, if he’s lucky amputated here, or unlucky, here. So that’s gone, off in someone else’s compound. What else? He’ll be fragged here on his face, and here along the side of his neck. It’s a conical blast wave, remember, so here under his arms too. Some big chunks out of his legs from the stones and crap on the ground. Probably a chunk out of the arm, here. Fragged along side of the chest.

  Where’s his weapon gone? That’s right, straight up into his grid. Broken jaw, fractured zygoma, bit of blast ear. Pressure injury to the lungs. Probably lose a few fingers too. What else are we forgetting? What’s here, biggest bone in the body? That’s right, his femur. Where’s that going? Smash, into his pelvis. Serious injury? You bet! Dislocated shoulder.

  If he isn’t wearing his shades, sand, dirt and stones in his eyes.

  He points to John’s genitals.

  What’s going to happen to this bad boy? If he’s wearing his blast pants, hopefully nothing. If he’s not? The eyelets from his boots are going to fly up, penetrate his nut sack, sever his penis. It’s one of the first questions they’ll ask you. ‘Have I got my cock and balls?’ If he’s not wearing blast pants, you can tell him yes, but he’ll be pissing in six different directions for the rest of his life. Probably lost both arse cheeks too. So, respect those gone before you, the men whose injuries we’ve learnt from, and wear those fucking pants! Your missus and your future kids will thank you for it, believe me.

  Right, that’s enough of you, John.

  John takes a white towel and walks downstage, cleaning the marker pen from his body, turning the towel red.

  Roger Bullet wounds next! You’re out on patrol and the tree line’s opened up on you, like it does. Your mate’s gone down, small entry wound on the front, big exit wound in the back. You’ve got to pack that exit wound while still laying down rounds in the opposite direction. So what you going to do?

  Roger’s voice fades away as John is isolated in a spot.

  John He’s right, you know. Some things don’t change. Weapons change. Battlefields change. Wars change. But there’s one thing that’s never changed.

  He pats his own chest.

  This. Fight with stones. Fight with swords. Fight with missiles. This is where the fight happens. This is where the speeches end. The resolutions. The column inches. This is where victory or defeat happens. The ultimatums. The politics. This is where war happens. Here. On the bodies of men. Boys. We try and take theirs apart. They try and take ours apart. It’s as simple as that.

  He turns and walks upstage. The lights come up to reveal a FOB – temporary showers and toilets, sandbags, Hesco blocks. The heads of Ali and Roger can be seen above a screen in front of the toilets. As John passes them he turns to the audience again.

  John That’s something else that never changes. Bring the British squaddie to Afghanistan, nineteenth century, twenty-first century, and soon enough he’ll get the D an’ Vs. Always has. Always will.

  John exits.

  SCENE EIGHT – COMMS

  Loud sounds of shitting. Ali ducks below the screen. The sound of him vomiting. He reappears.

  Ali Fuck me, this D an’ V’s better than any F-plan. I’m telling you, Atkins ain’t got shit on Afghan.

  Roger I know. My missus is going to be chuffed to fuck with the weight I’m dropping.

  Darren enters with a sack of mail.

  Darren Mail’s here, lads.

  Ali Ah, at last! About fucking time too!

  Other Soldiers begin to gather around Darren as he hands out the mail. Charlie wears his prosthetic so appears to have both legs intact.

  Darren Anderson … Briggs …

  Ali Get mine for me will you, mate?

  Darren Taylor … Ma’am … Baker … Booth …

  As each soldier receives their bluey or package they drift to a more private place.

  Darren Booth … Booth … Booth.

  Richard is given a pile of packages.

  Marc Ah, not again!

  Dave You’re crated, Booth. So crated.

  Marc You’re mother’s unbelievable. Like a fucking one-woman Red Cross.

  Darren Sir … Smith … Fowler …

  As the Soldiers open their bluies, the Letter Writers appear.

  Lauren Charlie, I miss you so much –

  Michelle Hey babe! I hope you get this soon … never soon enough though, is it?

  Tracy Dear Rich, a few more parcels for you. No chocolate this time, like you asked. But lots of Haribo and shower gel!

  The Soldiers continue to read their bluies as the female Letter Writers sing:

  Letter Writers (sung)

  Hope you get this, hope you’re safe, hope everything’s all right. Miss you.

  Everyone here is thinking of you, we’ve heard nothing on the news. Miss you.

  Look after yourself, my love, and come home soon.

  Dave When you’re in the FOBs most of the time bluies is all you get. Only once, maybe twice every two months. There’s one I’ll always remember. My daughter drew me a birthday cake. And my son, he’s got special needs see, but he managed to write his name. It might not sound like much, but I was crying. It chokes you up, it does.

  Richard You have to take yourself away, somewhere quiet. It’s amazing to get them, but then after you’ve read them, well, it’s bad too. It’s like a come-down. It makes you miss home, miss everyone there. You realise how long it’ll be before you see them again.

  Simi For three months I didn’t get any bluies. It took so long from Trinidad to England to Iraq. Every time the mail came, I’d just be waiting, feeling alone. The boys on camp even started writing to me, just so I’d have some mail! But then one day I saw a Trinidad and Tobago stamp. I couldn’t believe it. I almost screamed down the whole of the RHQ. Seeing their names, Mummy’s handwriting. I rub it all over my face, so it would stay with me. I even slept with it! Every time I turned over, I’d reach under my pillow to check it was there. Because it was a lifeline, that bluey. It really was. A lifeline home.

  The Soldiers begin to write. As their recipients open their letters the Soldiers sing.

  Soldiers (sung)

  Please don’t worry, I’m with a good bunch of lads.

  And, you know, we look out for each other.

  Send my love to Mum and Dad.

  I don’t know when I’ll call again.

  All my love, all my love.

  Tracy I saw Mr Roberts yesterday. Your old Geography teacher? He said everyone at school is so proud of you.

  Chris Alright, Big Rog! Chris here. Bet you weren’t expecting this. Send my best to the lads and let them know I’m doing fine – there are more nurses here at the QE than I know what to do with!

  Michelle PS. Sent you a special treat – just so you don’t forget what’s waiting for you back home. But keep this one to yourself!

  Rob (friend of Marc) Take it easy, Marco, you big numpty, don’t get shot and let me know when you’ll be back on R and R. We’ll have a blast (ha ha), I’ve got the la
deez lined up and waiting for you …

  Lauren I found a box of matches in my old handbag yesterday. They were from that seafood place you took me on our third date. Do you remember what you wrote on them? I cried so much when I saw them again. But don’t worry darling, I’m fine. I just miss you a ton.

  Richard Dear Mum, thanks for the packages. Hope everything’s OK back home. Not much to report from here. Same shit, different days. Still hot as hell.

  Roger Chris mate! All the lads say you’re a jack bastard for pissing off early. Jonesy reckons you knew it was there but stepped on it anyway so you could dodge the rest of the tour. Mind you, can’t blame you – those QE Nurses sound worth it!

  Frank You mustn’t worry about me, baby, I’ll be fine. But I am missing you loads. I think my balls are going to explode!

  Marc Robbo, you prick! Good to hear from you, mate, and thanks for the mags. Keep ’em coming! LOL.

  Chris Hearing from the lads after I got back helped loads. I thought about them tons. What are they doing? Has anyone been hit? Cos you don’t know until they come rolling into the hospital. So yeah, those bluies meant a lot.

  Lauren The second tour was easier than the first. I knew I wouldn’t hear from him for five, six weeks at a time, so I’d make plans to distract myself. Weekends at the spa with the girls, that kind of thing. He asked me to send him porn, which I did. But I never sent him photos of me like that. I’ve seen too many of the ones sent by the other girls to fall for that. I mean, I’m not going to provide relief for the whole unit!

  Dave I’m losing lots of weight in this heat. You’ll have a new man when I come home! I think about you all the time. We’ll have to do something special when I come back, take a trip with the kids or something.

  Charlie I head out on a ‘camping trip’ with the ‘boy scouts’ next week. I’ll call as soon as I can, I promise! I love you, honey. Not long to go now. I know you hate this, just please don’t hate me for it.

  Soldiers (sung)

  Please don’t worry, I’m with a good bunch of lads.

  And, you know, we look out for each other.

  Letter Writers (sung)

  Hope you get this, hope you’re safe, hope everything’s all right. Miss you.

  Soldiers (sung)

  Send my love to Mum and Dad.

  I don’t know when I’ll call again.

  Letter Writers (sung)

  Everyone here is thinking of you.

  We’ve heard nothing on the news. Miss you.

  Soldiers (sung)

  All my love, all my love.

  Letter Writers (sung)

  Look after yourself, my love. And come home soon.

  Daniel No one gets to keep their mobile phone. They’re too easy to intercept. Or if the enemy get hold of the sim card, then they phone the families at home, tell them their son or husband’s been captured, and that isn’t good. So each week we get twenty welfare minutes on the sat phone instead. It’s great, to hear your wife’s voice, to speak to the kids. But it’s really hard too. You feel the distance. After speaking with them I have to try really hard to disconnect from them again. Otherwise it gets to you. And saying goodbye, that’s the hardest. Saying goodbye.

  Letter Writers (sung)

  Kiss, kiss. Love you. Kiss, kiss. Love you.

  PS. PS. Love you. Love you.

  Soldiers (sung)

  All my love. All my love. All my love.

  Letter Writers (sung)

  Kiss, kiss. Love you. Kiss, kiss. Love you.

  The singing repeats and fades as both groups return to reading their letters on either side of the stage.

  Roger is watching John, who looks distressed.

  Roger Of course sometimes the news from home is bad news. Your dog’s died. Someone’s ill. Or your missus has dumped you. There’s always a few Dear Johns. But you can’t let it get to the lads. You can’t have one of your boys out on patrol who hasn’t got his head on the job. So you’ve got to sort them out, whatever it takes.

  Marc Oi, Philips. What you got there?

  Richard She hasn’t, has she? The bitch.

  John Yeah, she has.

  Marc Come on then.

  Marc takes the letter from John.

  ‘Dear John’ – Fuck, I can’t believe she actually gets to write that. ‘Dear John, I know this will be hard for you to read, but please believe me this is even harder for me to say.’

  Darren Yeah, I bet it is love, cos you’ve got mortars coming in and only ration packs for the next five months too, haven’t you?

  Marc ‘I’m just not sure I can do this any more.’

  Richard More like she’s doing some other bloke, some matlow or civvie down the pub.

  Marc ‘When I read about that soldier killed last week, I felt so sick, thinking it could have been you.’

  Frank So you thought you’d bin him. Yeah, nice.

  Dave Fucking witch.

  Marc ‘I know I said I would wait for you, but I didn’t know it would be like this.’

  Marc hands the bluey back to John. The Soldiers start singing ‘Plenty More Fish in the Sea’ by The Streets.

  John cracks a smile.

  Roger You have to make them smile. What else you going to do? You’ve got to defuse stuff quickly, and humour’s the best way to do that. Attack, like they say, it’s the best form of defence, isn’t it?

  Lights come up on Sarah and a Chaplain. She is dressed in funeral black, her head bowed. He wears a stole and cross.

  Chaplain We are gathered here today to honour the life and memory of Lance Corporal Andrew Jones, a young man of extraordinary courage who was willing to lay down his life for the lives of others and to pay the ultimate sacrifice in the defence of his country.

  The Soldiers gather around the Chaplain and begin singing ‘Abide with Me’. The hymn continues under the following action.

  Sarah walks downstage.

  Sarah It’s wonderful when he calls, of course it is. But it’s so frustrating too. There’s so much we can’t say. Or don’t say. I have to talk to him about all this ordinary stuff, about seeing friends, going shopping, what the weather’s like, when all I really want to ask him is, were you shot at today? Are you OK? Are you going out on any more ops? But I can’t, can I? Because he can’t tell me. Because all I’ll get is silence. And I understand that, I do. Because sometimes there are things I can’t tell him either.

  A phone rings. Sarah answers her mobile. The lights come up on the other side of the stage to reveal Daniel on a sat phone. Frank waits a little way behind him.

  Daniel Darling? Darling, it’s me.

  Sarah Oh, it’s so good to hear you. How are you?

  Daniel I’m fine, fine.

  Sarah Did you get the recipes?

  Daniel Yes, I did. Thanks. Though not sure I’m really doing them justice.

  Beat.

  Sarah How is it out there?

  Daniel Hot. Even hotter than before, if that’s possible.

  Sarah Right.

  Daniel And there?

  Sarah All fine. Good. Been raining today. Lucy’s at netball though, so …

  Daniel Oh yes. Yes, that’s Tuesdays and Thursdays now, isn’t it?

  Sarah Yes. She sent you a bluey yesterday.

  Daniel Great. Did she get mine?

  Sarah Not yet, no.

  Beat.

  Daniel Did you hear about Jones?

  Sarah Yes, I did. His poor mother. I’ve written to her.

  Daniel Yes, so have I.

  Beat.

  But you mustn’t worry. Everything’s fine, really.

  Sarah Right. Yes.

  The phone starts beeping.

  Daniel Look, darling, I think I’m about to run out of minutes. I’m so sorry. I’ll top up tomorrow.

  Sarah OK. Don’t forget we’ll be at your mother’s next week.

  Daniel Yes. Of course. I love you.

  Sarah I love you too.

  The line goes dead. They both look at their handsets for a m
oment. Daniel hands the sat phone to Frank. As Frank dials, Daniel walks downstage.

  Just before he speaks we see Michelle take Sarah’s place to answer Frank’s call. She carries a baby with one hand, holds the phone in her other. We don’t hear their conversation.

  Daniel Sometimes I think we say more with our silences than we do with our words. But it has to be that way. And not just for security. If she knew what I was doing, well, it would be hell for her. But I understand it must be just as difficult not knowing. But what can we do? It’s still worth it – hearing her voice, speaking to Lucy. It’s about staying in touch, isn’t it? About staying in contact.

  As soon as Daniel says the word ‘contact’ –

  All Soldiers (shouted) CONTACT!

  The sound of small arms fire, mortars, UGLs and RPGs.

  The Soldiers scramble for helmets and weapons and begin laying down rounds in a defensive shoot.

  Frank tries to turn off the sat phone, but fails. Michelle is left listening to the contact. She shouts Frank’s name into the phone but her voice is drowned by the gunfire.

  The sound of battle stops and a single spot lights Michelle.

  Michelle I had to listen to that contact for over five minutes. Explosions. Bullets. Shouting. It was two weeks before I heard from him again.

  Fade to black.

  SCENE NINE – CONTACT

  Charlie, without his prosthetic leg, sits in a wheelchair opposite a Psychologist. As they talk, the silhouette of a man with a Vallon mine-detector occasionally passes them.

  Charlie What’s it like? Jeez, well, kinda like everything you imagine. And not. I mean, when I first got out there it was like I was watching Apocalypse Now. I didn’t know where to look, where to go, what was dangerous, what was safe. You come off the Chinook and the heat hits you like a punch in the face. And the smell. Shit and dust. It was the first time I’d heard a proper weapons system, outside the firing range. And, I mean, it’s being discharged at you. Crack – thump. Crack – thump. The crack of the bullet snapping the air, then the thump of the weapon. And everything is reverbing, so yeah, it wasn’t so much confusing as disorienting. Because I mean, we’re well trained but we’re pretty much straight off the fucking plane here.