by R C Sherriff
COLONEL: As a matter of fact, Stanhope, I'm thinking of that youngster I sent up to you last night.
STANHOPE: Raleigh?
COLONEL: Yes. Just the type. Plenty of guts –
STANHOPE: He's awfully new to it all –
COLONEL: All to the good. His nerves are sound.
STANHOPE: It's rotten to send a fellow who's only just arrived.
COLONEL: Well, who else is there? I could send an officer from another company –
STANHOPE [quickly]: Oh, Lord, no. We'll do it.
COLONEL: Then I suggest Osborne to direct the raid and Raleigh to make the dash – with ten good men. We'll meet Harrison at supper and arrange the smoke bombs – and blowing a hole in the wire. You select the men and talk to Osborne and Raleigh about it in the meantime.
STANHOPE: Very well, sir.
COLONEL: Better send Osborne and Raleigh down to me in the morning to talk things over. Or better still! – I'll come up here first thing tomorrow morning.
STANHOPE: Right, sir.
COLONEL: It's all a damn nuisance; but, after all – it's necessary.
STANHOPE: I suppose it is.
COLONEL: Well, so long, Stanhope. I'll see you at eight o'clock. Do you like fish?
STANHOPE: Fish, sir?
COLONEL: Yes. We've had some fresh fish sent up from rail-head for supper tonight.
STANHOPE: Splendid, sir!
COLONEL: Whiting, I think it is.
STANHOPE: Good!
COLONEL: Well, bye-bye.
[The COLONEL goes up the steps. STANHOPE stands watching for a moment, then turns and walks slowly to the table. HIBBERT comes quietly into the dugout from the tunnel leading from his sleeping quarters.]
STANHOPE: Hullo! I thought you were asleep.
HIBBERT: I just wanted a word with you, Stanhope.
STANHOPE: Fire away.
HIBBERT: This neuralgia of mine. I'm awfully sorry. I'm afraid I can't stick it any longer –
STANHOPE: I know. It's rotten, isn't it? I've got it like hell –
HIBBERT [taken aback]: You have?
STANHOPE: Had it for weeks.
HIBBERT: Well, I'm sorry, Stanhope. It's no good. I've tried damned hard; but I must go down –
STANHOPE: Go down – where?
HIBBERT: Why, go sick – go down the line. I must go into hospital and have some kind of treatment.
[There is a silence for a moment. STANHOPE is looking at HIBBERT – till HIBBERT turns away and walks towards his dugout. ]
I'll go right along now, I think –
STANHOPE [quietly]: You're going to stay here.
HIBBERT: I'm going down to see the doctor. He'll send me to hospital when he understands –
STANHOPE: I've seen the doctor. I saw him this morning. He won't send you to hospital, Hibbert; he'll send you back here. He promised me he would. [There is silence. ] So you can save yourself a walk.
HIBBERT [fiercely ]: What the hell –!
STANHOPE: Stop that!
HIBBERT: I've a perfect right to go sick if I want to. The men can – why can't an officer?
STANHOPE: No man's sent down unless he's very ill. There's nothing wrong with you, Hibbert. The German attack's on Thursday; almost for certain. You're going to stay here and see it through with the rest of us.
HIBBERT [hysterically]: I tell you, I can't – the pain's nearly sending me mad. I'm going; I've got all my stuff packed. I'm going now – you can't stop me!
[He goes excitedly into the dugout. STANHOPE walks slowly towards the steps, turns, and undoes the flap of his revolver holster. He takes out his revolver, and stands casually examining it. HIBBERT returns with his pack slung on his back and a walking-stick in his hand. He pauses at the sight of STANHOPE by the steps. ]
HIBBERT: Let's get by, Stanhope.
STANHOPE: You're going to stay here and do your job.
HIBBERT: Haven't I told you? I can't! Don't you understand? Let – let me get by.
STANHOPE: Now look here, Hibbert. I've got a lot of work to do and no time to waste. Once and for all, you're going to stay here and see it through with the rest of us.
HIBBERT: I shall die of this pain if I don't go!
STANHOPE: Better die of the pain than be shot for deserting.
HIBBERT [in a low voice ]: What do you mean?
STANHOPE: You know what I mean –
HIBBERT: I've a right to see the doctor!
STANHOPE: Good God! Don't you understand! – he'll send you back here. Dr Preston's never let a shirker pass him yet – and he's not going to start now – two days before the attack –
HIBBERT [pleadingly]: Stanhope – if you only knew how awful I feel – Please do let me go by –
[He walks slowly round behind STANHOPE. STANHOPE turns and thrusts him roughly back. With a lightning movement HIBBERT raises his stick and strikes blindly at STANHOPE, who catches the stick, tears it from HIBBERT'S hands, smashes it across his knee, and throws it on the ground.]
STANHOPE: God! – you little swine. You know what that means – don't you? Striking a superior officer!
[There is silence. STANHOPE takes hold of his revolver as it swings from its lanyard. HIBBERT stands quivering in front of STANHOPE.]
Never mind, though. I won't have you shot for that –
HIBBERT: Let me go –
STANHOPE: If you went, I'd have you shot – for deserting. It's a hell of a disgrace – to die like that. I'd rather spare you the disgrace. I give you half a minute to think. You either stay here and try and be a man – or you try to get out of that door – to desert. If you do that, there's going to be an accident. D'you understand? I'm fiddling with my revolver, d'you see? – cleaning it – and it's going off by accident. It often happens out here. It's going off, and it's going to shoot you between the eyes.
HIBBERT [in a whisper ]: You daren't –
STANHOPE: You don't deserve to be shot by accident – but I'd save you the disgrace of the other way – I give you half a minute to decide. [He holds up his wrist to look at his watch. ] Half a minute from now –
[There is silence; a few seconds go by. SUDDENLY HIBBERT bursts into a high-pitched laugh. ]
HIBBERT: Go on, then, shoot! You won't let me go to hospital. I swear I'll never go into those trenches again. Shoot! – and thank God –
STANHOPE [with his eyes on his watch ]: Fifteen more seconds –
HIBBERT: Go on! I'm ready –
STANHOPE: Ten. [He looks up at HIBBERT, who has closed his eyes. ] Five.
[Again STANHOPE looks up. After a moment he quietly drops his revolver into its holster and steps towards HIBBERT, who stands with lowered head and eyes tightly screwed up, his arms stretched stiffly by his sides, his hands tightly clutching the edges of his tunic. Gently STANHOPE places his hands on HIBBERT'S shoulders. HIBBERT starts violently and gives a little cry. He opens his eyes and stares vacantly into STANHOPE'S face. STANHOPE is smiling.]
STANHOPE: Good man, Hibbert. I liked the way you stuck that.
HIBBERT [hoarsely ]: Why didn't you shoot?
STANHOPE: Stay here, old chap – and see it through –
[HIBBERT stands trembling, trying to speak. Suddenly he breaks down and cries. STANHOPE takes his hands from his shoulders and turns away. ]
HIBBERT: Stanhope! I've tried like hell – I swear I have. Ever since I came out here I've hated and loathed it. Every sound up there makes me all – cold and sick. I'm different to – to the others – you don't understand. It's got worse and worse, and now I can't bear it any longer. I'll never go up those steps again – into the line – with the men looking at me – and knowing – I'd rather die here. [He is sitting on STANHOPE'S bed, crying without effort to restrain himself. ]
STANHOPE [pouring out a whisky]: Try a drop of this, old chap –
HIBBERT: No, thanks.
STANHOPE: Go on. Drink it.
[HIBBERT takes the mug and drinks. STANHOPE sits down beside HIBBERT and puts an arm round his shoulder
.]
I know what you feel, Hibbert. I've known all along –
HIBBERT: How can you know?
STANHOPE: Because I feel the same – exactly the same! Every little noise up there makes me feel – just as you feel. Why didn't you tell me instead of talking about neuralgia? We all feel like you do sometimes, if you only knew. I hate and loathe it all. Sometimes I feel I could just lie down on this bed and pretend I was paralysed or something – and couldn't move – and just lie there till I died – or was dragged away.
HIBBERT: I can't bear to go up into those awful trenches again –
STANHOPE: When are you due to go on?
HIBBERT: Quite soon. At four.
STANHOPE: Shall we go on together? We know how we both feel now. Shall we see if we can stick it together?
HIBBERT: I can't –
STANHOPE: Supposing I said I can't – supposing we all say we can't – what would happen then?
HIBBERT: I don't care. What does it matter? It's all so – so beastly – nothing matters –
STANHOPE: Supposing the worst happened – supposing we were knocked right out. Think of all the chaps who've gone already. It can't be very lonely there – with all those fellows. Sometimes I think it's lonelier here.
[He pauses. HIBBERT is sitting quietly now, his eyes roving vacantly in front of him. ]
Just go and have a quiet rest. Then we'll go out together.
HIBBERT: Do please let me go, Stanhope –
STANHOPE: If you went – and left Osborne and Trotter and Raleigh and all those men up there to do your work – could you ever look a man straight in the face again – in all your life! [There is silence again.] You may be wounded. Then you can go home and feel proud – and if you're killed you – you won't have to stand this hell any more. I might have fired just now. If I had you would have been dead now. But you're still alive – with a straight fighting chance of coming through. Take the chance, old chap, and stand in with Osborne and Trotter and Raleigh. Don't you think it worth standing in with men like that? – when you know they all feel like you do – in their hearts – and just go on sticking it because they know it's – it's the only thing a decent man can do. [Again there is silence. ] What about it?
HIBBERT: I'll – I'll try –
STANHOPE: Good man!
HIBBERT: You – you won't say anything, Stanhope – about this?
STANHOPE: If you promise not to tell anyone what a blasted funk I am.
HIBBERT [with a little laugh]: No.
STANHOPE: Splendid! Now go and have ten minutes' rest and a smoke – then we'll go up together and hold each other's hands – and jump every time a rat squeaks.
[HIBBERT rises and blows his nose.]
We've all got a good fighting chance. I mean to come through – don't you?
HIBBERT: Yes. Rather. [He goes timidly towards his dugout, and turns at the doorway.] It's awfully decent of you, Stanhope –
[STANHOPE is pouring himself out a whisky.]
and thanks most awfully for –
STANHOPE: That's all right.
[HIBBERT goes away. STANHOPE takes a drink and sits down at the table to write. MASON comes in.]
MASON: Will you have a nice cup of tea, sir?
STANHOPE: Can you guarantee it's nice?
MASON: Well, sir – it's a bit oniony, but that's only because of the saucepan.
STANHOPE: In other words, it's onion soup with tea-leaves in it?
MASON: Not till dinner-time, sir.
STANHOPE: All right, Mason. Bring two cups of onion tea. One for Mr Hibbert.
MASON: Very good, sir. [Going towards the door, he meets OSBORNE coming in. ] Will you have a nice cup of tea, sir?
OSBORNE: Please, Mason – and plenty of bread and butter and strawberry jam.
MASON: Very good, sir.
STANHOPE: Well, Uncle – how are things going on up there?
OSBORNE: Two lonely rifle grenades came over just now.
STANHOPE: I heard them. Where did they pitch?
OSBORNE: Just over the front line on the left. Otherwise nothing doing.
[Pause.]
STANHOPE: The colonel's been talking to me.
OSBORNE: About the attack?
STANHOPE: Partly. We've got to make a raid, Uncle.
OSBORNE: Oh? When?
STANHOPE: Tomorrow afternoon. Under a smoke screen. Two officers and ten men.
OSBORNE: Who's going?
STANHOPE: You and Raleigh.
[Pause. ]
OSBORNE: Oh. [There is another pause. ] Why Raleigh?
STANHOPE: The colonel picked you to direct and Raleigh to dash in.
OSBORNE: I see.
STANHOPE: The brigade wants to know who's opposite here.
OSBORNE: Tomorrow? What time?
STANHOPE: I suggest about five o'clock. A little before dusk –
OSBORNE: I see.
STANHOPE: I'm damn sorry.
OSBORNE: That's all right, old chap.
STANHOPE: I'm dining with the colonel to arrange everything. Then I'll come back and go through it with you.
OSBORNE: Where do we raid from?
STANHOPE: Out of the sap on our left. Straight across.
OSBORNE: Where's the map?
STANHOPE: Here we are. Look. Straight across to this sentry post of the Boche. Sixty yards. Tonight we'll lay out a guiding tape as far as possible. After dark the toch-emmas are going to break the Boche wire and we'll cut a passage in ours.
OSBORNE: Will you fix up the men who are to go?
STANHOPE: Are you keen on any special men?
OSBORNE: Can I take a corporal?
STANHOPE: Sure.
OSBORNE: May I have young Crooks?
STANHOPE: Righto.
OSBORNE: You'll ask for volunteers, I suppose?
STANHOPE: Yes. I'll see the sergeant-major and get him to go round for names.
[He crosses to the doorway as MASON comes in with the tea.]
MASON: Your tea, sir!
STANHOPE: Keep it hot, Mason.
MASON: Will you take this cup, Mr Osborne?
STANHOPE: Take the other in to Mr Hibbert, in there.
MASON: Very good, sir. [He goes into HIBBERT'S dugout.]
STANHOPE: Shan't be long, Uncle. [He goes up the steps.]
OSBORNE: Righto.
[MASON returns.]
MASON: Will you have cut bread and butter – or shall I bring the loaf, sir?
OSBORNE: Cut it, Mason, please.
MASON: Just bringing the jam separately?
OSBORNE: Yes.
MASON: Very good, sir.
[MASON goes out. OSBORNE takes a small leather-bound book from his pocket, opens it at a marker, and begins to read. TROTTER appears from the sleeping dugout looking very sleepy. ]
TROTTER: Tea ready?
OSBORNE: Yes.
TROTTER: Why's Hibbert got his tea in there?
OSBORNE: I don't know.
TROTTER [rubbing his eyes]: Oh, Lord, I do feel frowsy. 'Ad a fine sleep, though.
[MASON brings more tea and a pot of jam. ]
MASON: Bread just coming, sir. 'Ere's the strawberry jam, sir.
TROTTER [reciting]:
‘Tell me, mother, what is that
That looks like strawberry jam?’
‘Hush, hush, my dear; 'tis only Pa
Run over by a tram –’
OSBORNE: The colonel came here while you were asleep.
TROTTER: Oh?
OSBORNE: We've got to make a raid tomorrow afternoon.
TROTTER: Oh, Lord! What – all of us?
OSBORNE: Two officers and ten men.
TROTTER: Who's got to do it?
OSBORNE: Raleigh and I.
TROTTER: Raleigh!
OSBORNE: Yes.
TROTTER: But 'e's only just come!
OSBORNE: Apparently that's the reason.
TROTTER: And you're going too?
OSBORNE: Yes.
TROTTER: Let's 'ear all
about it.
OSBORNE: I know nothing yet. Except that it's got to be done.