_The little farmstead, which has been seized by the advancing army,
lies close to the firing line. At the left is the farmhouse, a small,
mean building, of stone, with casement windows, and an inset porch,
from which the entrance door opens. At the side of the porch, nearer
the audience, is a bench, on which stands a water-bucket. Not far
distant is a rough table, fetched from the house, with a stool at
either side, and, before it, a bench. On the table are a pad of paper,
several pencils, a map, held in place by small stones, and a mug with a
little water. Farther back is a tree, the branches of which overshadow
the roof of the house. Across the courtyard, at the back, runs a high
wall of brick, with a slight coping of thatch, which is pierced at the
centre by a wide gateway. Through the gateway is seen a glimpse of
rugged autumn country, and in the foreground, passing the gate, a heavy
road. At the right is an open shed. Beneath this shed is a ladder,
and near by a heap of straw and a few broken farm implements. Toward
the front of the shed is a table, on which rest two field-telephones.
Beside it, by way of seat, an old box. Between the shed and the
audience is a lane, masked by a clump of trees, and with a barred gate
that stands open._
_The season is September. Seven months have passed since the town-house
burned. The time is late afternoon._
_At the left of the table the Adjutant, a keen young martinet of
thirty, is busily writing. At the telephone, with the headpiece in
place, sits a Sergeant, a heavily built man of forty odd. Huddled
in the straw beneath the shed lies Thomas, a child of six or seven,
barefooted, in a soiled smock and trousers, with a white, soiled face.
At the back, by the gateway, two soldiers are on sentry duty. One of
them is the Woodsy Boy, a different being in his stiff uniform and
service boots. He is gnawing surreptitiously at a piece of bread.
From the distance comes the boom of heavy guns, heard intermittently
throughout the act._
SERGEANT [_receiving a message_]. Yes, sir. This is the outpost at
Crossways. I’ll hold the line. [_To Adjutant._] Headquarters, sir. They
want the Colonel.
ADJUTANT [_to First Soldier_]. Headquarters calling. Tell the Colonel.
FIRST SOLDIER. Yes, sir. [_Turns to gateway._] He’s just here.
[_Robert comes through the gateway. He wears the shabby service uniform
of a colonel of infantry, and a not very well kept mustache. In the
months of fighting he has in every way “gone off.” His voice when he
speaks is almost a “whiskey voice.” At his heels, with a map in his
hand, comes the Major, a dull, commonplace man of forty._]
MAJOR. We’ve got ’em on the run, I tell you. Cleaned ’em off the
heights here. Chased ’em across the river there.
ROBERT. Humph! Watch out for the come-back.
MAJOR. We can smother them with numbers.
ROBERT. They’re on their own doorstep now. With their backs up.
ADJUTANT. Headquarters on the line, sir.
ROBERT. Eh? Then why in hell—
ADJUTANT. Just this minute, sir.
ROBERT. Right! [_Goes to the telephone. The Major seats himself at the
table and goes over the maps with the Adjutant._] Headquarters?— Yes,
sir. We are entrenching a kilometer beyond the farm-house.— Yes, sir.
We can hold it.— How many, sir?— Fine! Thanks. [_To Sergeant._] Get the
commissary! [_Goes to the table._] Two more regiments before midnight.
If they try to rush us, they’ll get what’s coming to them.
[_Thomas steals out from beneath the shed and very timidly takes up and
eats the crumbs that the Woodsy Boy has let fall._]
MAJOR. Not much like it was a year ago.
ROBERT. No. We can beat ’em now at their own game. Anything in your
flask, old man?
MAJOR. About enough to drown a fly.
ROBERT. Let’s see the color of it. [_Reluctantly the Major hands over
his flask._] Sorry—between friends. Ebb tide here, till the supplies
get through. [_Goes toward house._] And I’ve got another touch of
rheumatics coming on.
[_Robert goes into the house._]
ADJUTANT. Rather a pity!
MAJOR. Pity your grandmother! He’s a better soldier drunk than half of
’em sober. Give us your pencil! If there’s half a minute, I’ll scratch
a letter home. September—
ADJUTANT. Twenty-first.
MAJOR. Hm! That’s my oldest girl’s birthday. [_Writes._]
WOODSY BOY [_holding out his piece of bread, to Thomas._] Here, Kid!
Take it. Come on. Don’t be scared.
[_Thomas snatches the bread and retreats a little._]
FIRST SOLDIER [_going to the Woodsy Boy, but keeping a wary eye on the
two officers._] You’re green, all right. When you’ve seen as many stray
brats as I have—well, you’ll eat what little grub you get your paws on.
WOODSY BOY. What becomes of him?
FIRST SOLDIER. Why, a nice young lady nurse will come along and feed
him out of a silver mug, and tuck him up in a pink crib, with a woolly
baa lamb beside him, huh? Say, ain’t you got any sense at all?
WOODSY BOY. Do you mean, when we go away, he will be left alone?
THOMAS. My daddy is coming back pretty soon. He said he would. [_Goes
back into the shed._]
WOODSY BOY. Where d’you suppose his daddy’s gone?
FIRST SOLDIER. If you shin that wall, you’ll see a clump of trees over
yonder. Daddy’s there. “Rockabye baby, on the tree-top.” With the rope
that tethered one of his own cows tied round his neck.
WOODSY BOY. What for?
FIRST SOLDIER. Just sniping. Got two of ours before we settled his
hash. That was a bit o’ the fun you weren’t in on, Greeny.
[_The Adjutant, rolling himself a cigarette, chances to look up. First
Soldier withdraws to the left of the gateway._]
WOODSY BOY [_to Thomas, fumbling in his pocket_]. Here! That is
chocolate. Extra ration. It’s good. Eat it.
[_Thomas snatches the chocolate and runs back into the shed._]
SERGEANT. Commissary on the line, sir.
ADJUTANT [_rising_]. Hold it! [_Goes to house door._] Colonel! Ready
the commissary.
[_Robert comes in from the house._]
ROBERT [_to the Major_]. Fooled me that time, old man. [_Gives back the
flask._] Not enough to drown a flea. Well?
ADJUTANT. Commissary, sir.
ROBERT. Right! [_Goes to telephone._] Hello, Commissary! Where in hell
are those supplies? Can’t live on air, you know. Can’t suck our paws
like blasted bears.— Well, I don’t give a damn! We’ve been entrenching
for forty-eight hours. Not a blamed thing to eat but the bread in our
haversacks, and a little beef on the hoof.— What’s that?— Well, that’s
more like it.— Hold on! I say! You’re sending us some brandy, too, eh?
[_The Major and the Adjutant exchange glances._] Need it badly. Got
some cases of sickness. All right. So long. [_Turns to the Adjutant._]
Four motor-trucks will be at the foot of the lane, any minute. See that
the commissary sergeant is on the job.
ADJUTANT. Right, sir.
ROBERT. I say! [_Detaining him._] Look out yourself for that stuff
consigned to me. It’s important.
ADJUTANT. Yes, sir.
[_The Adjutant goes out through the gateway._]
ROBERT [_at the back of the table_]. Well! What writing?
MAJOR. Just a line home.
ROBERT. That’s a nice thing to have, a home. Those chaps didn’t happen
to leave me mine.
SERGEANT. Outpost K is calling, sir.
ROBERT. Eh?
SERGEANT. Yes. This is Crossways. What?— They got that biplane, sir.
[_Major turns alertly._]
ROBERT [_excited_]. No!
SERGEANT. Smashed the pilot to bits. Mixed the other fellow up with
red-hot petrol.
ROBERT. Can talk, can’t he?
SERGEANT. Can he talk?— Yes. He can talk, sir.
ROBERT. Send him over here.
SERGEANT. The Colonel says: Send him over!— Is that all, sir?
ROBERT. That’s all, Sergeant. [_Goes to centre of the courtyard, to the
Woodsy Boy._] Come here, you!
WOODSY BOY [_coming to him, saluting_]. Yes, sir.
ROBERT. You’re the man saw the biplane go westward night before last?
WOODSY BOY. Yes, sir.
ROBERT. Why in hell couldn’t you have given the alarm?
WOODSY BOY. I thought ’twas just a big bird, sir.
ROBERT. Well, when birdie dropped a bomb, down in the field where our
men happened to be sleeping, you woke up and took a little notice,
maybe?
WOODSY BOY. Yes, sir. [_Shuddering._] I heard ’em scream.
ROBERT. Did you see a light on the hill beyond?
WOODSY BOY. Plain as I see you, sir.
ROBERT. And a light far off as you could see, there in the west?
WOODSY BOY. Yes, sir.
ROBERT [_to the Major_]. That’s our water tower. Birdie just missed it.
[_To Woodsy Boy._] That’s all! [_The Woodsy Boy salutes and returns to
his post. Robert sits on the bench in front of the table._] There’s
been too many lights on the hills. Too many camp fires by day. To-night
I’m counting on finding out the name and address of the folks that are
setting those fires.
MAJOR. You think you’ll get that from the aviator?
ROBERT. Why not? St. Jo’s reported that he landed inside our lines,
didn’t they? Reported that he stocked up with petrol, didn’t they?
MAJOR. Yes.
ROBERT. Well, then! He’s likely to know where he got the petrol and who
helped him. When we get one man, we get the next, and so on, till we
get the whole damned gang.
MAJOR. The country is rotten with treachery.
ROBERT. And there’s a real enemy in front. Don’t forget that! We’re not
out of the woods yet. And it will help things along to clear out some
of the snakeweed and skunk cabbage. When I get hold of that biplane
chap, he’s going to squeal.
MAJOR. Well—there are—er—rules of the game.
ROBERT. Not a hunting man, are you, old chap?
MAJOR. No.
ROBERT. If you were, you’d know there aren’t any rules when you’re
dealing with vermin. Let me once get hold of the fellow who dropped the
bombs into St. Jo’s—
[_As he is speaking the Adjutant comes in through the gateway, followed
by Katherine. She wears the dusty and rather shabby dress of a Red
Cross nurse, with cloak and bonnet._]
ADJUTANT [_saluting_]. A lady, sir, that wants to see you.
ROBERT. A lady? Here? You’re off your head. How’d she get here?
ADJUTANT. Red Cross nurse, with a pass from Headquarters. Came on the
commissary truck.
ROBERT [_rising_]. Well, put her on the truck and send her back where
she came from.
KATHERINE. Oh, please, no! Let me stay long enough to say— How are you,
Rob? [_Goes to him._]
ROBERT [_embracing her_]. Kate! How in God’s name did you get here?
[_The Major and the Adjutant fall back a little._]
KATHERINE. A little eager, perhaps, to see you. It’s been months and
months now, and—and a good deal has happened, Rob.
ROBERT. Yes. I know. Sit down here, come. [_Seats her on the bench._]
Pity we haven’t some brandy! Major, my wife. My Adjutant.
[_The two officers bow and retire to the back of the courtyard._]
ROBERT. We must fix it to send you back to the base. This is the last
place— You know we may be attacked before morning. What ever possessed
you—
KATHERINE. I got into St. Jo’s last night.
ROBERT. The devil you did! Then you were—
KATHERINE. Rob! Don’t talk about it, please. I thought I was hardened
to every horror, but—
ROBERT [_sitting beside her_]. There, there!
KATHERINE. Well, I came on to Headquarters this morning. They’re trying
to get me a pass to go through the lines, and meantime, when I found
you were stationed here—the chance to see you—I haven’t much else left.
ROBERT. You shouldn’t have taken the risk.
KATHERINE. I’ve been running risks, such as they are, for four months
now.
ROBERT. You shouldn’t have started on this fool’s errand. You ought to
be at home.
KATHERINE. There is no—home, Rob. So I started out to see if I couldn’t
find some trace of Basil.
ROBERT. Just waste of time. Poor kid! We shan’t see him this side of
Jordan.
KATHERINE. Don’t say that, please! If you could see your mother! If you
could hear her, night and day, crying for her boy. I can understand.
ROBERT. Yes. I know. Our boy— Did he suffer much, Kate?
KATHERINE. Not for long.
ROBERT. Did he speak of me?
KATHERINE. Yes. He cried for you.
ROBERT. Poor little kid! Poor old girl!
KATHERINE. Better not, Rob. I mustn’t cry here.
ROBERT. No. It’s over and done with now. [_Rises._] Can’t help him.
KATHERINE. It wasn’t for my boy alone. [_Rises._] Just the comfort—to
find you again. To have you, just the same, to cling to, when the whole
world reels. [_Robert embraces her._]
[_Second Soldier enters through the gateway._]
ADJUTANT [_approaching Robert_]. Beg pardon, sir.
ROBERT. Well?
ADJUTANT. Seven o’clock, sir.
ROBERT. Yes. Must go the rounds. We’re a bit short of officers, you
know. [_To Soldier._] Got my horse there?
SECOND SOLDIER. Yes, sir.
ROBERT. Be back soon, Kate. We shan’t be sending away the trucks for
half an hour. We’ll have a minute together yet. Ready, gentlemen!
[_Robert, the Major, the Adjutant, and Second Soldier go out through
the gateway. Thomas steals from the shed and stands watching them. The
shadows are deepening. Katherine watches Robert off. Then her eyes fall
upon Thomas. Her arms go out toward him yearningly._]
KATHERINE. What’s your name, dear?
THOMAS. Thomas.
KATHERINE [_sitting on the bench_]. And whose boy are you?
THOMAS [_shyly approaching her_]. Daddy’s.
KATHERINE. And where’s Daddy?
THOMAS. He’s coming back. He told me to wait.
KATHERINE. When did you wash your poor little face last? Are you hungry?
THOMAS. Yes.
KATHERINE. I have some biscuit in my pocket. If you’ll let me wash your
face—yes?
THOMAS. What kind o’ biscuit?
KATHERINE [_pouring water from the mug upon her handkerchief_]. Oh,
round ones and square ones and some of them sweet. [_Washes his face._]
My stars! What a smudgy little boy! Where’s Mammy?
THOMAS. Mammy died, three, four, five—oh, a lot of days ago. And
the little baby. The little weeny baby—so long. [_Measures with his
hands._] Daddy put them out there in the ground. I wish Daddy would
come.
KATHERINE. Don’t cry, dear! Don’t! [_Takes him on her lap._] Play I’m
your mammy. Here are the biscuit! All for you!
[_Thomas eats the biscuit eagerly._]
SERGEANT [_answering call_]. Crossways, yes, sir. Ready! [_Takes down
the message._] Airscout reports enemy massing in force, three regiments
of foot estimated, behind the lines, opposite Crossways. Right. Got it,
yes. Good-bye. [_Snaps fingers._]
FIRST SOLDIER [_going to him_]. Yes, sir.
SERGEANT. Take this to the Colonel. [_Gives him the written message._]
FIRST SOLDIER. Yes, sir.
[_First Soldier goes out through the gateway._]
SERGEANT. Snappy time round here to-night, young fellow.
WOODSY BOY [_coming a little toward him_]. Must we kill them some more,
sir?
SERGEANT. Well, what d’ye think you’re here for? Didn’t think ’twas a
sworry, did you, with swallow-tails and pink tea? My God! The stuff
they’ve sent us since the Conscript Act! Lucky for you, young chap, I’m
on the wire, ’stead o’ teaching you the drill. [_Busies himself with
copying duplicate messages into his book._]
THOMAS. Are you a little boy’s mother?
KATHERINE. Yes, dear.
THOMAS. Where is he?
KATHERINE [_after a moment_]. In a pleasant place. Where men have
stopped killing each other. Where women don’t have to cry any more.
Where little children are safe and happy. Oh, he’s better off where he
is! Better off! [_Controls herself._] Your mammy is there, too, dear.
Safe and happy. And the wee little baby.
THOMAS. Oh, no. Daddy put them there in the ground. I wish he’d come. I
want him so.
KATHERINE. Don’t cry. You must be a brave little boy. Cuddle close and
go to sleep.
[_She holds the child close. He shuts his eyes. Twilight is deepening.
The Woodsy Boy, who has watched her with the eyes of a lost dog, steals
to her side._]
WOODSY BOY. Lady! You don’t remember me?
KATHERINE. I’m sorry. No.
WOODSY BOY. I came to your place one night, with a dog that had broke
its leg.
KATHERINE. Not the Woodsy Boy?
WOODSY BOY. I showed you where to find the primroses, you and Roland.
KATHERINE. Oh, what are you doing here?
WOODSY BOY. I was tall enough and old enough, they said.
KATHERINE. A conscript, of course! You poor little fellow, they might
have let you be.
THOMAS [_in his sleep_]. Daddy!
KATHERINE. Hush! Hush!
WOODSY BOY. We have killed his daddy. He fired at us. We were taking
his cattle.
KATHERINE. God pity us all!
WOODSY BOY. At home my father stole a sheep. He was two years in jail.
Here we stole his father’s cattle—so we hanged his father on a tree. I
don’t understand.
KATHERINE. Just do as they tell you, Heaven pity you!
WOODSY BOY. At home the Parson told me not to kill. He said God said we
mustn’t. But here they say I must kill.
KATHERINE. Don’t try to understand!
SERGEANT. Hi you! Greeny! Cut into the house and fetch some lanterns!
[_The Woodsy Boy goes into the house._] Was he bothering you, ma’am?
KATHERINE. No, Sergeant.
SERGEANT. He’s a bit cracked in the head, you can see. Not much like
the chaps they sent us, first of the war. Kind of petering out, they
are.
[_Through the gateway come in Robert, the Major, the Adjutant, and
Second Soldier._]
ROBERT. Any report, Sergeant?
SERGEANT. Just the airscout, sir.
ROBERT. Take that ladder! Set it up against the shed. [_Second Soldier
sets ladder against the shed. The Woodsy Boy comes from the house with
two lighted lanterns. He hangs one on the porch, so that the light
falls across the table._] Let’s have the binoculars. [_Takes them from
the Adjutant._] Here! Climb up there. Look out for lights on the hills.
Flashes. [_Second Soldier goes up the ladder, hooks his elbows on roof
of the shed, and studies the horizon at right. The Woodsy Boy sets the
second lantern on the telephone table._] Late with that prisoner from
Outpost K.
ADJUTANT. Believe I hear the motor now, sir.
ROBERT. Well, bring him on the run. We’ve no time to fool. [_The
Adjutant goes through the gateway. Robert turns to Katherine, and sees
her, under the lanternlight, with the child in her arms. He cries
out._] Kate!
KATHERINE. Don’t wake him!
ROBERT. Good God! For half a minute I thought—[_Goes to her, furious
with himself._] What kid is that you’ve got there?
KATHERINE. Isn’t there a bed inside where I can lay him? Poor little
fellow!
ROBERT. This is the battle-line. Not much room here for sentiment.
KATHERINE. It’s his father’s house.
ROBERT. Well, put him on the bed, if you want to. [_Katherine leads the
half sleeping child to the house._] Better stay inside yourself. Turns
cool here after sunset. Can’t send you back for an hour yet. Go in! Go
in! [_Katherine and Thomas go into the house. Robert, badly shaken,
takes up the mug, dashes out the water that is in it, fills it from his
pocket flask, and takes a stiff drink of whiskey neat. The Adjutant
comes in. Robert turns at his step._] Got him?
ADJUTANT. We have, sir.
ROBERT. Well, trot him out.
[_The Adjutant signals with his hand from the gateway. An infantry
Sergeant comes in, followed by several soldiers. Two of them are half
supporting, half dragging Phil, incredibly altered. He wears the
scorched and torn remains of an aviation lieutenant’s uniform. He is
bareheaded and his forehead and eyes are covered with a blood-stained
emergency bandage. He is further disguised by a fortnight’s growth
of beard. His wrists are closely tied. Not incomprehensible that
Robert, two thirds drunk, should fail to recognize in this soiled and
broken wreck the man who should have been his brother-in-law. Not
incomprehensible either that Phil, blinded, and with senses benumbed
with pain, should fail to recognize in the whiskey voice the voice of
his old friend._]
SECOND SERGEANT. The aviator, sir, that ran the biplane over St. Jo’s.
ROBERT. Set him down there! [_The soldiers thrust Phil down on the
stool at the right of the table, and then draw back._] So you’re the
chap that paid us a visit last night.
PHIL [_desperately trying to hold himself together_]. Yes.
ROBERT [_sitting at left of the table, opposite him_]. D’ye know what
you did at St. Jo’s?
PHIL. Yes.
ROBERT. It was a job to be proud of, eh?
PHIL. Yes. We got your train-yard—your rolling-stock—locomotives—repair
shop.
ROBERT. Is that all?
PHIL. Do you want more? Well—maybe some of our chaps come again. I
can’t. [_Drops head on his arms on the table._] Done for!
MAJOR [_at the back of the table_]. See here! Don’t you know what you—
ROBERT. Shut up! Shut up! Is he shamming, Sergeant, or is he badly hurt?
SECOND SERGEANT. Pretty well shaken up, sir, and a couple of ribs bust
in. Then the tank blew up and he got it in the face. His eyes are done
for.
PHIL. Yes.
SECOND SERGEANT. He was pretty keen on killing himself. That’s why we
tied him.
PHIL [_lifting his head_]. I get out of it pretty quick anyhow. But
it’s no fun waiting. I— [_With his hands outstretched, to Robert._]
Oh, for God’s sake! Let me have some morphine! So for a minute it
stops hurting. So I don’t go crazy. Maybe you’ll be up against it once
yourself. For God’s sake! [_Drops his head on his arms._] For God’s
sake!
ROBERT. Bad as all that, is it? Well, you shall have your morphine,
sonny.
PHIL [_piteously_]. Thank you!
ROBERT. But first you’re going to do something for us, eh?
PHIL [_lifting his head_]. What do you want?
ROBERT. The names of the fellows inside our lines that are standing in
with you.
PHIL. I don’t know them.
ROBERT. Oh, yes, you do. Come on now! Who were they? Then it’s you to
the hospital. Not before.
PHIL. Say, you said it was a soldier you were taking me to. This is
nothing but a fat civilian, with his dinner slobbered all over his
waistcoat. You damned bastard, do you think I’d—
[_Robert springs up and starts toward Phil. The Major intercepts him._]
MAJOR. Go easy, sir.
ROBERT [_controlling himself_]. Think you can get me mad enough to hit
a blow might kill you, do you? [_Standing over Phil._] Not a bit of it.
[_Strikes him._] Shell out now! Who were they?
PHIL. No! [_With a suppressed groan._] Oh!
ROBERT. Pretty fierce the pain, eh? [_Sitting on the table, beside
Phil._] Think how jolly good you’re going to feel, with something
better than an emergency bandage over your eyes, dropping off to sleep—
PHIL. No.
ROBERT. Regular little hero, aren’t you? Well, I guess we’d better
tell you just how much of a hero you really are. Didn’t know perhaps
that there was a train made up and ready to start at daybreak, in the
train-yard at St. Jo’s.
PHIL. What of it?
ROBERT. Not much of it, after your bombs smashed into it. [_Phil gives
a short and savage laugh._] Just before then it was full up with
wounded men—three hundred of them—and half of them your own chaps.
PHIL. No! You’re saying that to torture me. You’re lying. All of you.
If I could only see your faces, I’d know you were lying.
ROBERT [_rising_]. Well, we’re going to send you where you’ll find
out whether it’s the truth or not. [_Takes pad, and writes while he
speaks._] We’d be well within our rights to hang you, you damned
air-pirate. But we’ll stand you up against the wall instead.
PHIL. I thank you.
ROBERT. Set him up there! [_Two soldiers take Phil and thrust him
against the wall at the right of the gateway. Meantime Robert beckons
the Second Sergeant, and shows him the written paper. The Sergeant
takes the paper and by the light of his electric bull’s eye shows it
to the soldiers of his squad successively. Meantime Robert goes on
speaking._] Back him up against the wall. More to the right. Here you,
fetch that lantern. Hang it on that peg beside his head. [_The Woodsy
Boy, shrinking, takes the lantern from the telephone table, and hangs
it on the wall, where the light falls squarely on Phil’s ghastly face.
This done, he darts back into the shelter of the shed, where he remains
throughout a horrified and fascinated witness._] Got anything to say?
PHIL. Be quick. That’s all.
ROBERT. We’ll let you give the word to the firing squad.
PHIL. Yes.
ROBERT. Sergeant!
SECOND SERGEANT. Fall in! ’Tention! March! ’Bout face! Ready! Aim! All
ready, sir.
[_The firing squad is drawn up, behind the table, facing Phil. The
Second Sergeant falls back at the right._]
ROBERT. How about it now? Going to give us those names?
PHIL. No.
ROBERT. You’ll find out in a minute how they died, those three hundred
at St. Jo’s. You’ll be with them.
PHIL. I’ll chance it.
ROBERT. Want to pray?
PHIL. Get through with it.
ROBERT. Give the word, then!
[_Katherine, without her cloak and bonnet, comes from the house, and
pauses on the porch. She does not of course recognize Phil. Neither
does she go into hysterics. She is a sensible woman, and no novice at
the sight of horrors. She does, however, stand frozen in her tracks and
takes in all that follows. On Robert’s last word, Phil pulls himself up
to his full height, with chin uplifted. Obviously he is using the last
remnant of his strength of body and of soul to hold him through the
next moment._]
PHIL. Fire! [_A moment’s ghastly silence._] For God’s sake, fire!
ROBERT. Fall out!
[_The soldiers break ranks and stand beneath the tree._]
PHIL [_going to pieces_]. What are you doing? What are you going to do?
Why don’t you fire?
ROBERT [_going to him_]. Thought we’d let you off easy as that, eh? Not
a bit of it!
PHIL. You devils! You devils! Oh! I can’t bear any more! I can’t bear
it! [_Starts to beat his head against the wall._]
ROBERT [_catching him by the shoulder_]. Cut that out! [_Flings him
away from the wall._]
PHIL [_falling full length, face down._] O God! Haven’t you any pity!
ROBERT [_over him_]. You wasted a lot of strength, striking attitudes
there. Come on now, laddie! [_Kicks him._] Be sensible! Give us those
names.
PHIL. No!
SECOND SOLDIER. Colonel! A light, sir.
ROBERT. Where?
[_Through the ensuing, Phil drags himself toward the table, strikes his
head against the stool, and, having thus placed himself, staggers to
his feet._]
SECOND SOLDIER. On the wooded hill. Flash, sir. There it comes again.
[_The crash of a gun is heard. A branch falls from the tree into the
courtyard._] Got our range, sir!
ROBERT [_catching Phil by the shoulders as he rises_]. They’re getting
busy, your friends. Think they’re going to keep on dropping my
chaps, just because you keep your damned mouth shut? [_Thrusts Phil,
struggling hopelessly, down on the stool at the right of the table._]
I’ll pry your jaws open. Won’t speak, eh?
PHIL [_struggling_]. My God, man! Don’t! Don’t!
ROBERT. Give us those names!
PHIL. No! No!
ROBERT [_jerking Phil’s arms from before his face_]. Damn your soul!
[_Forces his head back upon the table_]. If I get my hand on your
face, you’ll tell in a hurry!
PHIL [_shrieking_]. Christ!
KATHERINE [_somehow arrived at the table, clutching Robert’s arm_].
Rob! Stop! Stop!
ROBERT. How’d you get here, Kate? What are you doing?
KATHERINE. For your own sake, stop!
[_Guns intermittently crash throughout._]
ROBERT. Hear that? Pounding us to bits, just because he won’t talk. Get
into the house, Kate. This is my job.
KATHERINE. Not torture! Rob! Rob! No!
ROBERT. You’re my wife, aren’t you? Do as I tell you, Kate.
[_The familiar names and the woman’s well remembered voice have reached
even Phil’s pain-crazed senses._]
PHIL. Kate! Kate!
[_Robert, for the instant dismayed by the horror of the possibility
suggested, goes back from his victim. Phil staggers blindly to his
feet._]
PHIL. Don’t leave me! Don’t you know me? I’m Phil.
KATHERINE [_catching him in her arms as he pitches forward_]. No! No!
[_She eases him down on the bench, scanning what little of his face is
visible._]
PHIL. The house in the north—Roland—Gertrude—
KATHERINE. Oh! What have you done, Rob? It’s Phil—Phil that saved our
boy!
ROBERT. Yes. For his countrymen to butcher. Get away from him!
KATHERINE [_supporting Phil, with her arms about him_]. No. You’re not
going to touch him.
ROBERT. You were at St. Jo’s yourself this morning. You saw what they
were bringing out of that train-yard. That’s his work.
KATHERINE [_drawing back from Phil involuntarily_]. You did that?
PHIL [_with a despairing cry_]. Then it’s true!
KATHERINE. God forgive you!
[_Phil sways forward, half lying on the bench._]
SERGEANT. Airscout, sir.
ROBERT. Eh?
[_Katherine snatches up the mug and fills it at the water-bucket._]
SERGEANT. Report from Outpost K. The enemy’s foot are advancing against
our trenches.
ROBERT [_to Adjutant_]. Got your horse ready?
ADJUTANT. There, sir. [_Indicating gateway._]
ROBERT. Hurry up those re-enforcements. Ride like hell.
[_The Adjutant hurries out through the gateway. Robert follows after
him, with the soldiers in attendance, all but the Woodsy Boy, Second
Soldier, and the two Sergeants._]
KATHERINE [_at Phil’s side_]. Drink it, Phil!
PHIL [_drinking hurriedly_]. You have not gone away? You have not left
me?
KATHERINE. No. [_Sets the mug on the table._]
PHIL. It was the repair shop I aimed at. I didn’t mean—They suffered?
Tell me! Tell me!
KATHERINE. Some of them, yes.
PHIL. I thought once—I was going to help put a stop to pain. I thought—
Will you tell her, please, I am not any more a coward! With my own
hands—three hundred cripples killed. She should be proud. Say that!
[_Robert comes in through the gateway._]
ROBERT [_to the Major_]. Bring up our own regiment. On the double!
[_The Major hurries out through the gateway. Robert turns toward Phil.
Katherine steps quickly between them, with her arm about Phil._]
ROBERT. That’s nonsense, Kate. You can’t stop me. [_To Phil._] I’ll
see you again in a minute, and when I do—by God! you’ll talk! [_To
the Second Sergeant._] Sergeant! Keep an eye on that chap. We’re not
through with him by a long shot. Come on, you!
[_Robert goes out by the lane at the right, followed by the telephone
Sergeant. The Second Sergeant draws back and paces in the gateway._]
PHIL. Katherine! Will you do for me one thing? Inside my coat here,
sewn in the lining—I can’t get at it—some stuff will make me sleep.
Won’t you please get it for me? I’d have done it for you. I’d have done
it for Rob.
KATHERINE. Don’t! I can’t bear that. Because I believe you would.
PHIL. Then won’t you please—I don’t want to lie screaming on the
ground. In a minute I will. O God! Let up on me! Please, please,
Katherine! For Roland’s sake!
KATHERINE. Hush! Oh hush! [_Gets the tablets from inside his coat._]
Here, is it?
PHIL. You have it?
KATHERINE. Yes.
PHIL. Put it please into some water. Let me drink it quick.
KATHERINE. Phil! My poor old chap! What is it?
PHIL. To make me sleep.
KATHERINE. For how long?
PHIL. Don’t ask questions. Give it to me, and then go straight away.
KATHERINE. I can’t. Oh, I can’t!
PHIL. Give it to me! Three hundred of them—helpless! But I must not
tell. I must not give up those names. I must have something left, or
I’ll be scared to die. Katherine! Help me not to tell! Katherine! I am
here in hell—and blind—blind! Katherine! Katherine!
KATHERINE [_snatching up the mug, and putting into it the tablets_].
Phil! Drink it! [_Thrusts the mug into his hands._]
PHIL [_drinking_]. God bless you!
KATHERINE [_putting down the mug, bending over him_]. Phil, dear! Can
you pray?
PHIL. Pray?
KATHERINE. Before you—go to sleep?
PHIL. Oh, yes. Pray—Roland— [_With her arms about him he slips from the
bench to his knees._] Katherine!
KATHERINE. Yes. I’m here. I’m here.
PHIL. Now I lay me—keep me kind—make me—a good—boy—
[_The death spasm grips him. His head goes back. His kneeling body
stiffens. He collapses limply at her feet. She stands rigid and
speechless, gazing down at him. The guns now are almost incessant._]
MAJOR [_outside_]. Battalion, forward!
A CAPTAIN’S VOICE. Forward!
SECOND SERGEANT. Fall in!
[_Second Soldier comes down the ladder and goes out at the gateway. The
Major comes in. At the same moment Robert comes from the lane._]
MAJOR. All ready, sir.
[_Troops of infantry are seen marching toward right along the road
beyond the gateway. The Major takes his place among them. The Second
Sergeant falls in._]
ROBERT [_to Woodsy Boy_]. Fall in!
WOODSY BOY [_as unexpectedly as if a sparrow should chirp in the face
of a tornado_]. No, no! I won’t kill them. [_Lets his rifle fall._]
ROBERT. Pick up that rifle.
WOODSY BOY. No! No! No!
ROBERT [_drawing his revolver_]. Fall in, damn you!
WOODSY BOY. I won’t kill. God said that—
[_Robert shoots him in the breast. The Woodsy Boy staggers a few steps
forward and falls dead. Across his body Robert goes out at the gateway
and joins the marching troops. There is the flash of a shell, and a
crash. A section of the wall at the right is blown inward. Katherine
staggers back, but the clutch of the little boy, Thomas, roused by
the noise and stolen in terror from the house, brings her to herself.
She holds the child to her, protecting, covering his ears and eyes.
The bursting of shells is now incessant. Another section of wall goes
down. Through the smoke and the dust of the roadway, under the bursting
shells, a horse battery is seen going into action._]
CURTAIN
EPILOGUE
_In the two years that have passed since the events of the Prologue,
the country-house has been in the hands of the enemy. The wide open
doorway and the uncurtained casements show springtide country, with
stumps of fruit-trees, trampled fields, and, in the distance, the
burned rafters of a hamlet and the gaunt tower of a ruined church.
Within, the room has been stripped bare of all that made it livable,
hangings, rugs, cushions, pictures, bric-a-brac. The good and heavy
furniture has been replaced with plain and cheap articles. At the left
is a deal table, on which stand a lamp with a green shade, of ordinary
pattern, and an earthen jug with a few sprays of lilac. A wooden chair
is beside the table. At the centre is a plain table, on which is a big
basket of coarse mending. At either side of the table is a rush-bottom
chair. A cottage settle is at right angles to the hearth. Beside the
hearth is a wheel-chair, and near by a wooden chair._
_The season is May, eight months after the events upon the battle-line.
The time is late afternoon._
_On the bench in the bow-window Thomas, neatly but poorly clad, sits
with a shabby little picture book. Near by the Professor, aged, shabby,
and almost senile, is irritably looking from the window. Lydia, gaunt
and aged, all in black, sits mending at the right of the table. In the
wheel-chair, with a rug across his knees, sits Basil, the haggard wreck
of the boy who meant to end the war in six weeks._
PROFESSOR. Dear, dear! Katherine is very late with the mail.
LYDIA. Well, Kate can’t go like a race-horse, you might remember. She’s
tired, poor girl! And no wonder, with all that she has to do.
PROFESSOR. But at such a time it is most exasperating not to have the
paper promptly.
BASIL. Probably Kate ducked in somewhere when that shower came up.
THOMAS [_going to Lydia_]. Can I go down the lane and meet Aunt
Katherine?
LYDIA. Yes, Thomas. But mind you don’t go near the soldiers’ camp.
THOMAS. No, I won’t.
[_Thomas runs out at the terrace door._]
LYDIA. That camp is enough to demoralize all the boys and girls in the
district. What there is about brass buttons and a bugle—
BASIL. Oh, come, Mother! Our chaps are decent enough fellows.
LYDIA. Well, I’ll be thankful when their camp is broken up. They
demobilize next week, didn’t you say?
BASIL. They were planning to. But there’s no telling what will happen
with these new complications.
LYDIA. Fiddlesticks! You needn’t tell me that we’re going to fight
again. We’ve got peace at last, haven’t we? We’ve got the victory,
haven’t we?
BASIL. I wonder. If we have, I don’t think much of what they call the
fruits of victory.
LYDIA. Fruits of victory! I don’t see much of them in this house.
[_Gertrude, in shabby black clothes, white, sullen, and weary, comes in
at the left._]
GERTRUDE. That last shower did the business. The kitchen roof is
leaking like a sieve. Give me the mending, Mother.
LYDIA. There’s enough for two. Shoddy stuff they sell us nowadays.
GERTRUDE. [_Sits left of table, with mending._] There’s a half day’s
work to do on that roof. We need an able-bodied man—and the money to
pay him.
LYDIA. Well, Robert will be home very soon now. And when he takes hold
of things—
GERTRUDE. We can’t do much without ready money. And every penny is
eaten up with the new taxes.
PROFESSOR. It is entirely the fault of the ministry. They should
have stood out for a proper war indemnity. They should have made the
foreigners pay for all our losses.
BASIL. And what the devil were the foreigners to pay with? I tell you,
they’re worse off than we are.
LYDIA [_going to sit on the settle near Basil_]. O sonny, how can that
be possible?
PROFESSOR. Well, well! Here’s Kate at last. And high time, I should
think.
[_Katherine comes in with Thomas at the terrace door. She wears a plain
and inexpensive walking suit, hat, and blouse. She looks older by ten
years._]
PROFESSOR. You are late, Katherine.
[_Thomas gives the Professor a newspaper, which the old man eagerly
spreads open._]
KATHERINE. I’m sorry, Uncle. The road was a bit heavy. Here’s a letter
for you, Trudie!
GERTRUDE. Why, it’s from Margaret. It’s months since we’ve had a word
from her.
BASIL. Give us a look-in, Uncle.
PROFESSOR. Most annoying! [_Going to Basil._] Only one penny paper a
day, and at a crisis like this—a national crisis. [_Sits on the chair
beside Basil and shares the paper with him._]
THOMAS. Aunt Katherine! Can I go out and play a little?
KATHERINE. Yes, dear. Stay in the garden, remember. [_Puts her hat and
coat in the closet._]
THOMAS. Yes, I will.
[_Thomas goes out at the terrace door._]
BASIL. Well, it looks squally, all right.
GERTRUDE. Bad news, Basil?
PROFESSOR. At least we are in better shape than we were two years ago.
We have an efficient army of seasoned men.
BASIL. Seasoned like me, eh?
LYDIA. We’re not going to fight again?
KATHERINE. It’s nothing but talk, Mother. [_Sits right of table, takes
mending._]
BASIL. We have cause enough to fight, and don’t you forget it.
PROFESSOR. Yes. The conduct of our late associates in arms has violated
every usage of international law.
BASIL. We’ll teach ’em a thing or two. And we’ve got those that will
help us.
KATHERINE. You don’t really think we’ll fight against our old comrades?
PROFESSOR. In the shift of events that is not altogether impossible.
LYDIA. You mean we’ll actually fight now on the side of the foreigners?
Ignorant wretches!
BASIL. Oh, they’re not half bad, Mother. Really they’re much more our
sort than our old associates. They were mighty decent to me, you know,
when I was off my head, before Kate found me.
PROFESSOR. The foreigners are not the worst of people, Lydia. Philip
now, he was a quite likable young man.
[_Gertrude listens tensely._]
BASIL. He wasn’t a half bad sort, old Phil.
PROFESSOR [_turning to his paper_]. Killed in action, didn’t you say,
Kate?
KATHERINE [_rising_]. Yes. He was killed in a raid at St. Jo’s.
Instantly killed. [_Goes to the window at right._]
LYDIA. Poor fellow! At least it’s a comfort to think that he did not
suffer. You have that to remember, Gertrude.
GERTRUDE. Oh, yes! I remember. [_Rises and goes with her letter into
the bow-window._]
BASIL. Poor old Phil!
PROFESSOR [_reading the paper_]. Tut, tut! Shocking! Most shocking!
BASIL. Let’s see, sir. [_Glancing at the paper._] Ah, that’s rotten!
LYDIA. What is it?
BASIL. Getting nasty, our late comrades in arms. Women of ours have
been attacked among them. Oh, I say! Little children—butchered!
KATHERINE. Basil! Two years ago, those are the same stories they told
about Phil’s countrymen.
GERTRUDE. Here’s interesting news. Margaret is to be married.
KATHERINE. Not Margaret— Hush!
[_Lydia lays a hand on Basil’s arm._]
BASIL. It doesn’t matter. Who waits for a man as good as dead?
GERTRUDE. She can forget. There are such women. Isn’t she lucky?
[_Turns to the door._]
LYDIA. Where are you going?
GERTRUDE. Out where the garden used to be.
[_Gertrude goes out at the terrace door._]
LYDIA [_rising_]. Perhaps I’d better follow her. It’s the old folks
have to tend upon the young folks now.
[_Lydia goes out at the terrace door._]
BASIL. You can have the paper, sir.
PROFESSOR. Yes, yes. [_Hurries toward the chair at the left._] The
editorials—their comments are too mild. They do not understand the
principles our late associates have shamelessly violated. [_Sits at
the left and buries himself in the coveted paper._]
KATHERINE [_laying her hand on Basil’s arm_]. Old man!
BASIL [_sharply_]. If you don’t mind letting me alone! I beg
your pardon, Kate. About all I can do now is to bite on the
bullet—gracefully, and keep on biting for a little matter of forty or
fifty years.
KATHERINE. Doctors don’t know everything. Perhaps—
BASIL. They know enough to know I’m tied to this chair till death do us
part. That’s in the marriage service, isn’t it? [_Breaking down._] Ah!
KATHERINE. Basil! Don’t! Don’t!
LYDIA [_outside, excitedly_]. Kate! O Kate!
KATHERINE. Mother! What’s wrong?
[_Lydia hurries in at the terrace door._]
LYDIA. Kate! Here’s Rob come home this very day. Here’s Rob come home
at last. I told you—I kept telling you—they couldn’t fight again. Now
we’ve got Rob back. It’s all right. It’s all right. Come in, Rob! Come
in!
[_Robert, noticeably aged, in civilian clothes, appears at the terrace
door. He has the look of a man who has just been struck in the face.
Lydia hurries down to the Professor, who rises._]
ROBERT. I—I hardly recognized the house. Kate!
KATHERINE [_going to his arms_]. You’ve come back to stay, Rob? You’re
not in uniform. Oh, I was afraid—
ROBERT [_looking about the dismantled room_]. They did a pretty
thorough job here, didn’t they?
KATHERINE. You’ll get used to it, Rob. We’re all getting used to it.
ROBERT [_in the doorway_]. Cleaned out the orchards, didn’t they? All
fruit trees, those were. Just got ’em in condition to bear.
KATHERINE. I wrote you how things were.
ROBERT. Yes. I didn’t quite take it in. [_Starts toward the hearth,
stops, smitten at the sight of Basil, then goes to him._] Hello, Bub!
Hard luck, old man! [_Gertrude appears in the doorway, unnoticed by
Robert_]. Cleaned us up here pretty well, the foreigners, didn’t they?
Cleaned us up, while we were getting ready to fight! And now we’re
turning out to help ’em thrash our old comrades in arms.
KATHERINE. What!
ROBERT. War was declared at noon to-day.
KATHERINE. War was declared!
ROBERT [_going to the Professor_]. Here’s a late paper, sir.
PROFESSOR. Thank you, Robert, thank you! [_Retires into the bow-window,
where he reads the paper, oblivious of all else._]
LYDIA. They’re going to keep on fighting! [_Goes to Basil, sits on the
settle._]
KATHERINE. But you’ve come home.
ROBERT. Yes. They only want able-bodied men for cannon fodder—young
men, strong men, not chaps like me. Knocked my heart out in the
service. Got rheumatism in those damned trenches. That’s why they gave
me my walking ticket. That’s why I’ve come home.
KATHERINE. And now we fight for the foreigners. I can’t believe it.
GERTRUDE [_coming into the room_]. Phil would have been useful now. A
pity, isn’t it, Rob, that you murdered him.
ROBERT. Trudie! What do you mean?
GERTRUDE. Ask Kate!
KATHERINE. Gertrude!
ROBERT. You talked?
LYDIA. You shan’t blame Kate. She found my boy. She brought him home.
ROBERT. You talked, Kate?
GERTRUDE. In her sleep. I know what you did to him. I’m glad you’ve
come here. At every turn of the stair—in every room of this house that
was home to him—you’ll see Phil now, as I see him, all the days of your
life.
ROBERT. Kate! In your sleep—you remembered like that?
KATHERINE. I can’t forget. I can’t forget.
ROBERT. I’d been drinking.
KATHERINE. Don’t! Don’t! I know.
ROBERT. You don’t understand. You’ve got to understand. In the trenches
that winter, with the dirty water at our knees. Days on end, weeks
on end, months on end. Always cold. Always wet. Vermin crawling over
us. Dogs’ food that we snatched like dogs. And all the time the guns
were pounding, pounding, pounding, and we shouted to be heard, and our
ear-drums were cracking. We turned up the filth and slime to bury our
dead, and we came on the rotting dead they’d laid there—
KATHERINE. Don’t! Don’t!
ROBERT. Well, I got to depending on the stuff. It deadened things. But
I never went drunk to bed till the night I got your letter—the letter
about Roland.
KATHERINE. I’m not blaming you. [_Sinking on chair, at the right of the
table._] God help us all!
ROBERT. Can’t you understand, Trudie? I was half drunk that night when
Phil— No! I don’t mean that. All that I did was right.
GERTRUDE. Your friend! He was your friend!
ROBERT. I don’t carry my friendships onto the firing line. He was
nothing to me, that chap. I was ready to make him talk. At any cost.
Yes. [_Gertrude, with a strangled cry, goes into the bow-window._]
But I didn’t do it for fun, Kate. [_Goes to the table._] To save my
own chaps from getting pounded to pieces. I was right. He’s got no
business coming into my dreams. I was right. I’ll say that to you,
Kate, just as I’ll say it to Almighty God.
KATHERINE. Oh, the long way you’ve come, since you stood together,
you three big, kind men we were so proud of, here in this very room,
fussing over a little hurt beast. The Woodsy Boy came through that
door. The boy you—
ROBERT [_sitting down opposite her_]. The conscript you saw me shoot?
That was mutiny in the ranks. I was right, under the rules of war.
KATHERINE. Only two years ago that was, only two years. It was the
day that Roland— Don’t you remember? He asked me about the picture of
Moloch.
[_Very faint, but continuously swelling louder, is heard outside at the
right the music of the March-out, heard in Act I._]
GERTRUDE. What’s that?
LYDIA. It can’t be the March-out that I hear!
[_Thomas, wildly excited, darts in at the terrace door._]
THOMAS. O Aunt Katherine! The soldiers are leaving the camp. They’ll
march right by our house.
[_Thomas darts out again._]
LYDIA. I can’t live through it again. Oh, I’m too old!
BASIL. Why don’t you throw flowers, Trudie?
[_Gertrude, with a hysteric cry, sinks upon the floor in the
bow-window._]
KATHERINE. And we thought the war was ended.
ROBERT. Thought the war was over, did you? Not a bit of it. As long as
men are men, there’ll be fighting.
LYDIA. We can’t bear any more.
KATHERINE. We’ve nothing left to give.
ROBERT. Stop crying! There’s an ocean of tears been shed already—an
ocean of blood. Doesn’t make any difference. We’re fighting still. No
end to it. God’s a joke. Got any brandy in the house, Kate? I’m dead
tired. I’m down and out. [_Rests his head on his arms upon the table._]
THOMAS [_running past the terrace door_]. Oh, the soldiers! The
soldiers! The soldiers!
KATHERINE. Moloch is hungry still.
BASIL. And I can’t go with ’em! [_Collapses, sobbing._]
KATHERINE. More of them—more of them—more of them!
ROBERT. If they’d only stop that damned noise!
KATHERINE. Marching—marching—marching—
[_The March-out is at its fortissimo._]
CURTAIN
THE END
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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,
and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.
Inconsistent hyphenations have been left as is.
Page 56: “Katherine” typeface corrected from small caps to italics.
Page 74: “froom” replaced by “from”.
Page 83: “Phil Pray?” replaced by “Phil. Pray?”.
Page 92: “replaced table].” replaced by “table.]”.