The Poetry of War

CHARACTERS

Edie (The Industrialist) – Upper middle-age.

Field Marshal Montgomery (The General) – Old.

Private Gunner (The Soldier) – Young.

 

 

NOTES

 

• Denotes an interruption.

/    Denotes people speaking over each-other.

 

 

 

 

THE INDUSTRIALIST AND THE GENERAL.

           

                        THE PRODUCTION LINE.

 

                        BEHIND EDIE AND FIELD MARSHAL MONTGOMERY, A CONVEYOR-BELT CYCLES ROUND RIFLES AND                                               AMMUNITION.

 

Montgomery:  His Majesty has been more than generous.

 

Edie:                Look, I’m runnin’ a business here –

 

Montgomery:  He’s already paying twice the amount than is usual.

 

Edie:                That was a’for they lined their massive ships all across the water. /You can see ‘em from the beach.

 

Montgomery:  We’re not paying any more.

 

Edie:                It’s not enough, I tell you. I’m rationin’ the metal and the coal – it’s not enough.

 

Montgomery:  His Majesty has given all that he can.

 

Edie:                ‘e’s still in his palace though, in’t ‘e. With all the silver and gold – three times.

 

Montgomery:  Sorry?

 

Edie:                Three times and you can ‘ave ‘em.

 

Montgomery:  Three times?

 

Edie:                Three times, yeah.

 

Montgomery:  No. His Majesty is not being held to ransom by the likes of you as well as the enemy. You will take what has previously been agreed                           and give me the guns.

 

                        EDIE PERFORMS A HANDS-TIED GESTURED; SHAKES HIS HEAD.

 

Edie:                No can do, I’m afraid.

 

Montgomery:  Why on Earth not?

 

Edie:                It’s. Not. Enough. These ‘ere are premium specimens – the very best. I’m not selling ‘em for more than three times. If His Majesty                             don’t wanna sell a spaniel or som’at, then I’ll sell ‘em to someone else. We are at war, after all. 

 

Montgomery:  Such – such insolence! I can have you done for treason.

 

Edie:                By my reckoning there won’t be much of a King left by the end of the week.

 

Montgomery:  How –

 

Edie:                All the ‘papers are saying it.

 

Montgomery:  We have not surrendered yet.

 

Edie:                Then, you’ll be needing these guns. ‘Cos if you hadn’t noticed, most of the factories have been /bombed round here.

 

Montgomery:  /You leach.

 

                        PAUSE.

 

Montgomery:  They’re the best?

 

Edie:                ‘is Majesty would be happy.

 

                        PAUSE. FIELD MARSHAL MONTGOMERY LOOKS FROM THE GUNS TO EDIE.

 

Montgomery:  His Majesty will pay you three times the amount. Now, load them up. They need to be on the front line imminently.

 

Edie:                Pleasure doing business with ya.

 

                        MONTGOMERY REFUSES TO SHAKE EDIE’S HAND.

 

 

 

THE GENERAL AND THE SOLDIER.

           

                        A TRENCH.

 

                        THERE IS A STEP IN FRONT OF PRIVATE GUNNER THAT OVERLOOKS NO-MAN’S-LAND.

 

                        PRIVATE GUNNER HAS A RIFLE FROM THE PRODUCTION-LINE.

 

Montgomery:  Those new rifles should be able to hit the enemy from a mile away. So, you will make the most of them.

 

Gunner:           (ADMIRING THE RIFLE) They’re sure shiny, sir.

 

Montgomery:  (BARKED) Get in line, Private!

 

                        PRIVATE GUNNER READIES THE RIFLE AND TAKES HIS POSITION BEFORE THE GUNSTEP.

 

Montgomery:  Men, this is the moment that we’ve been waiting for. Relentless shelling and bombing have flattened the enemy to the point that those                         trenches, across that field of No-Man’s-Land, are rubble. It is a matter, men, of striving across that desolation and capturing the                                   crippled enemy, to force them into submission. As you know, we have been pushed back, back to the point of near destruction, of                               near defeat – there is no hiding that. But you, men, have come through, to the Last Stand. The last fight. The last triumph – from the                         brink. Behind us is our city, and beyond that our families, our wives, our children – for this is the final defence. We must succeed. We                         cannot fall. For the country. For the King. For everyone. We must march today, with our finest weapons, and fight for all that makes us                         free and human, which the enemy wants to snatch from us. We stand with our children – for the glory, for the victory, for the honour. 

 

                        MONTGOMERY PRODUCES A WHISTLE.

 

Montgomery:  Take your positions, men.

 

                        GUNNER IS NERVOUS, SHAKING, AS HE DOUBLE-CHECKS THE RIFLE AND PUSHES HIS HELMET TO HIS SCALP.   

 

Gunner:           I – I can’t…

 

Montgomery:  Ready.

 

                        DESPITE HIS TERROR, IMPULSE FORCES GUNNER TO PLACE ONE FOOT ON THE GUNSTEP.

 

Gunner:           I c – can’t… I’m not… I – I

 

Montgomery:  Easy, men.

 

                        GUNNER PRODUCES A PHOTOGRAPH FROM INSIDE HIS JACKET.

 

Gunner:           (TO THE PHOTOGRAPH) Mum…

 

                        HE KISSES THE PHOTO.

 

Montgomery:  His Majesty is with you.

 

                        MONTGOMERY BLOWS THE WHISTLE.

 

                        PRIVATE GUNNER STEPS UP AND CLAMBERS OUT OF THE TRENCH.

 

                        MACHINE-GUNFIRE INSTANTLY ERUPTS. EXPLOSIONS. CLODS OF FLYING EARTH. DODGING BLOODY MANGLES                           OF BARBED WIRE.

 

                        PRIVATE GUNNER FINDS HIMSELF LEVEL WITH THE ENEMY. HE GOES TO FIRE THE RIFLE… IT JAMS.

 

Gunner:           Wha – wha – what – huh, huh, huh – No – it can’t – it’s jammed – huh, huh, huh – sir, it’s – no, it can’t – huh, huh, huh – jammed.                             They –

 

                        BLACKOUT.

 

 

 

THE INDUSTRIALIST AND THE SOLDIER.

 

                        EDIE’S OFFICE.

 

                        EXASPERATED, EDIE IS AT HIS DESK, FLICKING THROUGH PAPERS.

 

                        PRIVATE GUNNER MATERIALISES, HIS GUTS SPILLING INTO HIS HANDS. EDIE IS TERRIFIED AND SCAMPERS                                   FROM HIS CHAIR, COWERING BEHIND THE DESK. PRIVATE GUNNER GLIDES ACROSS THE ROOM.

 

Gunner:           You – !

 

Edie:                I’m – s-sorry – ‘ave you got an appointment?

 

Gunner:           You – you did this to me.

 

Edie:                ‘ave we – have we met /before?

 

Gunner:           /You care for nothing. Fifteenth infantry – you supplied the rifles – the rifles – the damned, blasted rifles.

 

Edie:                Oh, I – I, oh, read what ‘appened. You – you’re – you all – it said you all /died.

 

Gunner:           DIED!

 

                        PRIVATE GUNNER DRIFTS AIMLESSLY, BEFORE COLLAPSING TO THE FLOOR, TRYING TO COLLECT BITS OF                                     INTESTINES.

 

Gunner:           In the muck, in the clay, in the water, I was there, waiting. Waiting for someone to come. The pain, the blood – so much blood. I co –                         I couldn’t stop it. Like a river, like a river flowing, pouring – a fountain. A hot, sticky geyser shooting through my fingers – and I                                 tried, I tried to stay awake. To keep – keep fighting. Then there was a light – a flare – I, I, I, I tried to look, to, to move towards… I                             cou – I couldn’t – I had – I had nothing. No, no, no fight left… I tried to shout – to shout at that flare – for someone, anyone, for                                 someone… I fell, I remember that. Into the muck, into the clay, into the cold, black water. And I saw it there. As my eyes, my eyes                             grew heavy, weary, wanting a long, long rest. There, I saw it. The rifle. The damned, blasted rifle. That you made. That you made,                               and it jammed. Everyone’s. Not one single bullet.  

 

                        You killed me.

 

Edie:                I ‘ad no choice. I was told to make guns quick and cheap – the pressure.

 

Gunner:           You chose profit.

 

Edie:                No.

 

Gunner:           Profit over thousands of lives.

 

Edie:                No, I –

 

Gunner:           You and many men like you.

 

Edie:                I swear – I didn’ – I didn’t know.

 

                        PRIVATE GUNNER SHAKES HIS HEAD. MORE GUTS SPILL OUT.

 

Gunner:           Aren’t you guilty?

 

Edie:                What?

 

Gunner:           Don’t you feel sorry?

 

Edie:                I –

 

Gunner:           All those children, they died at your hands.

 

Edie:                Well, I – uh –

 

Gunner:           (HEAVIER) Are you not guilty?

 

                        FIELD MARSHAL MONTGOMERY APPEARS.

 

Montgomery:  Yes, yes, we are. Why do you think we can see you?

 

                    Edie:                                                                                              Montgomery:

Now, please – get out of my head.                                          Now, please – get out of my head.

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END.