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ACT 1 SCENE 1 THE STAGE IS ALMOST BARE. A LECTERN IS AT ONE EDGE OF THE STAGE, NEAR IT A METAL DESK. AT THE BACK OF THE STAGE IS A LINE OF BEDS. BESIDE EACH BED IS A LOCKER. THERE IS A GREEN TIN TRUNK AT CENTRE STAGE. ON THE LID, PAINTED IN CRUDE WHITE SLASHES IS THE FOLLOWING INSCRIPTION: "4720671 SIG NERTZ ADELAIDE" FRED NERTZ ENTERS AND STARTS TO RUMMAGE THROUGH THE TRUNK. FRED NERTZ Spring bloody cleaning. The junk of a lifetime. Reference books. All classified. Dunno why. It was all obsolete when I was in the army. What's that? Ten years ago. Already? Mostly army junk. (HOLDS UP A GRENADE) I sent this home through the post. From Vietnam. I had visions of it going off in the Redfern mail exchange, or something. Still it hasn't gone off yet. (TOSSES THE GRENADE BACK. TRIES ON A SLOUCH HAT) 4720671 Sig Nertz sir! (SALUTES. FINDS BATTLE DRESS) Couldn't get into that. (NEXT A TIN OF...) Buttons and badges. My medals. Two inches of glory. No, not for bravery. Not for gallantry, or meritorious service. I got them just for being there. Two weeks. (FLIPS THEM) |
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Six months. Stupid. Then why am I proud. This Vietnam thing. It's a large lump of experience lodged in my mind. My personal gordion knot. I've picked at it for years but I've never been able to unravel all it's threads. Hell, even half. Even one percent. It would have been something. The Vietnam experience has been playing on my mind. It's become an obsession. Somehow I've got to get it out of my system. So that's why you are here tonight. I'm going to drop the whole lot on you. This physical junk, as well as the mental and emotional junk I've been carrying around for the last ten years, I'm unloading it all on you. You can go home and forget it, or you can spend the next "x" years fretting about it as I did. I don't care. I'm getting it all out of my system tonight. The good, the bad. All this shit is going out. The hurts, the indignities. The good times. The glories. The myths. (FINGERS THE MEDALS, THEN THROWS THEM IN THE TRUNK AND SLAMS THE LID) It's all out. Finish. (PUSHES THE TRUNK OFF THE STAGE) So. Here we are at the beginning. Day one. The army recruiting office, Pirie Street, Adelaide. For my medical. FRED TAKES OFF HIS SHIRT AS A LINE OF DRAFTEES FORMS UP BEHIND HIM. A MEDICAL OFFICER WITH A CLIPBOARD AND A ROLLED EYE CHART CROSSES TO FRED. MEDICAL OFFICER Take your glasses off. (FRED DOES SO) Read the bottom line on the chart. FRED NERTZ What chart? MEDICAL OFFICER Read the top line. FRED NERTZ "C". MEDICAL OFFICER Second line. FRED NERTZ "D" or an "O". Maybe an "N". MEDICAL OFFICER Right. Pass. Next. THE MEDICAL OFFICER MIMES SIMILAR TESTS ON THE REST OF THE DRAFTEES. FRED MOVES DOWN STAGE AND CONTINUES. AS THE DRAFTEES ARE PROCESSED THEY FALL IN BEHIND FRED AGAIN) FRED NERTZ The medical wasn't exactly difficult. I mean, I passed. Me. The most unfit person since Quasimodo. Not that I have any parts missing. Just too much flab. Shortness of breath. Things like that. The diseases of the city. I reckon I've got them all. You all have. Walk down any street and look at the pot bellies. We love the sedentary life. Anyhow I was drafted. I could have fought it. Sugar in my urine. Or blood. The medics knew you were faking, but they didn't want trouble makers. They'd let you go. I could have conscientiously objected. MEDICAL OFFICER Name? FRED NERTZ Fred Nertz. MEDICAL OFFICER Age? FRED NERTZ Twenty one. MEDICAL OFFICER Twenty one. You volunteered for national service? FRED NERTZ No. I was deferred to complete my apprenticeship. MEDICAL OFFICER Height? FRED NERTZ Six foot two. MEDICAL OFFICER Religion? FRED NERTZ Agnostic. MEDICAL OFFICER You can't put that. What were you christened? FRED NERTZ Methodist. MEDICAL OFFICER I'll put down Methodist. Next. FRED NERTZ Religion was important to the army. It was a box to put you in. A label. It also stopped the army chaplains fighting over your corpse. (THE LINE OF DRAFTEES TURN TO THE FRONT AND BECOME A CONGREGATION. WE HAVE LEPT FORWARD IN TIME TO PUCKAPUNYAL) CHAPLAIN Lord, these young men are about to embark on a career in your army. In your service. Fighting your enemies for your greater glory. We pray you will shower them with your spirit and your determination. SERGEANT (PATROLLING THE REAR OF THE LINE) Stand up straight. CHAPLAIN Give them the courage and strength to bear themselves with dignity and resolution. SERGEANT Stomach in. Shoulders back. CHAPLAIN Give them the pride and the power to follow in the footsteps of their forefathers. SERGEANT Face the bloody front. CHAPLAIN Give them the will, lord, to aspire to the ideals, SERGEANT You miserable turd. CHAPLAIN To attain the dedication.. SERGEANT Quiet. CHAPLAIN To achieve the motivation of both loyalty and duty that so inspired those great brave ANZAC's who laid down their lives in two world wars. Amen. FRED NERTZ Lets go back to the drafting ceremony for a few seconds. There's another point worth looking at. (THE CONGREGATION TURNS TO THE LEFT TO BECOME A MEDICAL LINE AGAIN. WE ARE BACK AT PIRIE STREET) MEDICAL OFFICER Height? FRED NERTZ Six foot two. MEDICAL OFFICER Religion? FRED NERTZ Agnostic. MEDICAL OFFICER You can't put that. What were you christened? FRED NERTZ Methodist. MEDICAL OFFICER I'll put down Methodist. Fill that up. Next. (HANDS FRED A SPECIMEN BOTTLE) FRED NERTZ Oh. (TO AUDIENCE) Excuse me. (TURNS BACK TO FILL BOTTLE. THE M. O. DISTRIBUTES SIMILAR BOTTLES TO THE REST OF THE LINE) Did you see it? It's the key to the way the system works. The assumption of obedience. The assumption that you're going to do what they tell you. You're not given time to disagree. By the time you open your mouth they've changed the subject. (THE ENTIRE LINE HAS THEIR TROUSERS AT HALF MAST FILLING THEIR BOTTLES) MEDICAL OFFICER Come on, come on. Stop abusing yourselves. FRED NERTZ (HANDS OVER BOTTLE) About the religion. MEDICAL OFFICER Cough. FRED COUGHS THE MEDICAL OFFICER PROCEEDS ALONG THE LINE GETTING A COUGH FROM EACH DRAFTEE. FRED PULLS UP HIS TROUSERS AND ADJUSTS HIS DIGNITY. FRED GOES TO THE EDGE OF THE STAGE AND GETS A CHAIR. HE BRINGS IT TO CENTRE STAGE. THE OTHER DRAFTEES FOLLOW. FRED NERTZ That was the medical all the way through. Efficient. Impersonal. We were processed in batches of fifty down at Pirie Street then shoved out into the world with a piece of paper telling us to report to Keswick Barracks, Gate A, one morning in Janurary. (WE ARE NOW AT KESWICK BARRACKS) OFFICER (KESWICK) Good morning lads. Take a seat. (THE DRAFTEES SIT) We'll have a a bit of paperwork for you to do in a few minutes, and after that you're supposed to leave for the airport. Unfortunately there's been a bit of a stuff up. Your flight's been delayed three hours. In the mean time we've decided to show you a few basic training films. FRED NERTZ Another important point. Let's run past it again. OFFICER (KESWICK) Unfortunately there's been a bit of a stuff up. FRED NERTZ It's almost immortal, isn't it. OFFICER (KESWICK) Unfortunately there's been a bit of a stuff up. FRED NERTZ The marching beat of the Australian Army. OFFICER (KESWICK) (MARCHING ON THE SPOT) Unfortunate. Stuff up. FRED NERTZ The number of times we heard that phrase. OFFICER (KESWICK) Unfortunate. Stuff up. FRED NERTZ (AN ASIDE) I've always wanted to do this. Officer...halt. (THE OFFICER HALTS) It's easy to parody the army, but it's not really fair. If you build a hair trigger weapon you can't complain if the odd hair triggers it. OFFICER (KESWICK) Unfortunately there's been a bit of a stuff up. FRED NERTZ You know I almost liked him. He didn't have to put on movies for us. True it took two hours to find the projector, and we had to leave half way through the first reel, but at least he tried. Here was the army's human face. I was entering a strange unknown world, and the guy on the gate smiled. It was encouraging. It was friendly. I felt they would look after me. Army life might not be so bad after all. |
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(PUCKAPUNYAL: THE DRAFTEES CARRY OFF THEIR CHAIRS AND RETURN WITH LUGGAGE WHICH THEY BEGIN TO UNPACK AND PLACE IN THE LOCKERS. THEY INTRODUCE THEMSELVES AND SETTLE IN. THE SERGEANT ENTERS) SERGEANT Get over here on the double. Pick 'em up you bunch of grubs. Come on. Move it. (A LINE FORMS UP SLOWLY. THE KID IS THE LAST TO ARRIVE) What's the matter, are you deaf? KID No. SERGEANT No Sergeant. What'd I say? KID No sergeant. SERGEANT What? KID No sergeant. SERGEANT I can't hear you. KID No sergeant. SERGEANT Louder. KID No sergeant. SERGEANT Are you arguing with me, grub. Are you. KID No sergeant. SERGEANT What? KID No sergeant. SERGEANT That's miserable. You're a bunch of worms. You wouldn't make an army's arsehole. If I get you to march in a straight line it'll be a miracle. Get that stomach in. (PICKING ON INDIVIDUALS) Are you pregnant? Straighten up. Chest out. Stomach in. Look to the front. I don't want to be stared at. Don't bend your knees lad. You're not a frog. Heels together, toes six inches apart. Face the bloody front. I won't tell you again. Now listen you lot. For the next ten weeks you can think of me as God. You march everywhere. You stand to attention when you're spoken to. You do as you're told. You keep your face shaven. You get rid of those sideburns. (STALKS UP AND DOWN THE LINE) Keep your nose clean and stay out of trouble and you'll never hear me raise my voice at you. Got it? (AT THE TOP OF HIS VOICE) Got it? ALL Yes sir. SERGEANT What? ALL Yes sergeant. SERGEANT One other thing. You'll never hear me bloody-well swear. Mothers don't like it. So I don't bloody do it. Understand me. ALL Yes sergeant. SERGEANT Right. Platoon...fall out. (THE DRAFTEES STROLL AWAY. THE SERGEANT SUPPRESSES TEARS. FRED NERTZ BEGINS TO UNDRESS. THE DRAFTEES UNDRESS AND GET INTO THE BEDS IN THE BACKGROUND. FRED NERTZ This is Puckapunyal. A licensed subsidiary of hell. At the beginning of recruit training I was eighteen stone, six foot two with glasses. Ten weeks later I walked out twelve stone, six foot two. Even my glasses didn't fit. (FRED HANGS HIS CLOTHES IN THE LOCKER BESIDE HIS BED) Recruit training wasn't pleasant. It was a continual wearing down process. Eroding the will. Burning out all the unwanted neurones of your mind in the heat of the parade ground. Reducing you to an automaton, doing what you're told because that's what gives the least pain. SERGEANT (AT STAGE EDGE) Get those lights out hut 3. FRED NERTZ Pavlov conditioning. (CLIMBS INTO BED. THE LIGHTS GO OUT) At least you slept well. (THE SERGEANT STORMS THROUGH. THE LIGHTS GO UP) SERGEANT Wakie wakie, hands off snakie. (HE TIPS ONE SOLDIER OUT OF BED, RIPS THE COVERS OFF ANOTHER) I want you out on the parade ground in five minutes. Move. (THE DRAFTEES START TO GET UP) And don't forget your sheet. (THE SERGEANT EXITS. THE DRAFTEES STRIP THE BOTTOM SHEET FROM THEIR BUNKS) FRED NERTZ (GROANS) Five o'clock. (THE DRAFTEES FORM UP AT THE FRONT OF THE STAGE WITH THE SHEET DRAPED AROUND THEIR NECKS. THEY LOOK LIKE A LINE OF GHOSTS. SOME ARE WEARING PYJAMAS, SOME PYJAMA BOTTOMS, SOME JUST UNDERPANTS. THERE ARE SOME BOOTS, SOME THONGS. SOME BARE FEET. THOSE WITH BARE FEET SHIFT FROM FOOT TO FOOT TO ENDURE THE FROST) SERGEANT Today the subject is legs. For those of you who don't know what legs are, they're those long skinny things hanging under your arse. Believe it or not legs are for marching. So that's what we are going to do. Twenty miles of it. Full packs out here, in ten minutes flat. Atten -- shun. Fall out. Move it. (THE GHOSTS RACE BACK TO THEIR BEDS, MAKE THEM AND MOVE OFF STAGE) FRED NERTZ I want to say a few words about the uniform. How it works on you. (FRED CHANGES INTO ARMY GREENS DURING THE FOLLOWING) The way it changes you. It does mould you. You become the uniform. (TAKES UNIFORM FROM THE LOCKER) Exibit "A". The basic layout is green on green. Look at that. (HOLDS THE TROUSERS OUT BY ONE END. THEY STAND OUT AS STIFF AS A BOARD. TOO MUCH STARCH) It's the army's secret weapon. If you run out of bullets you whip your pants and beat the enemy to death. They're tough enough. We used a pair of these once to tow a jeep out of a bog. The trousers stood it. Not one single stitch gave way. Not one. How's that for strength? Of course you'd have to be eight feet tall to get into them now. (FRED TAKES OUT...) The boots. Napoleon said that an army marches on it's stomach. Not true. An army always marches on it's feet, and the feet are in boots, and the boots had better be good or there are going to be a hell of a lot of sore feet, and an army with sore feet is defeated, believe me. Boots are one thing the army does well. One thing it must do well. The uniform is just that. Uniform. It's dull and drab. Ideal for crawling around in the mud. Ideal for making you all look alike. Disguising individuality. Accentuating conformity. Put twenty soldiers in a row and what have you got? Twenty soldiers in a row. All differences bleached out. To the eye anyway. Inside you might be different. You might be individual. You might cry to yourself "If God had wanted me to be in the army he would have given me baggy green skin", but that doesn't change your appearance one iota. (AFTER FRED FINISHES DRESSING HE STARTS CLEANING HIS BELT) There's a story about a clerk in the city. All his life he worked at a desk. His handwriting was neat. Precise. He never spoke back to his superiors. He never spoke to his inferiors. He kept to himself. There was only one thing at all unusual about him. One drawer of his desk was always locked. No one had ever seen the contents of this one drawer. In fact no one had ever caught the clerk opening or closing the drawer. The secret of the drawer was the most interesting thing about the clerk. Everybody talked about it. What was in the drawer? Perhaps the manuscript for a novel was locked away there. Perhaps the clerk was a secret poet. Perhaps the drawer was full of pornography. Nobody knew. The locked drawer gave the clerk an air of mystery. His superiors, however, did not approve. It was not that the clerks work was unsatisfactory.... The clerk was never promoted. He stayed on at that desk, with it's locked drawer, all his working life. Eventually, as all men must, the clerk died. The chief supervisor came down to where the clerk had worked out his existence. He looked at the desk, then ordered it cleared out. All work in the office stopped. Everyone was waiting. Waiting to see what was in the drawer. Waiting to find out what the clerk was really like. The custodian arrived to perform the final rite. Pencils and pens were placed in a box. Ledgers were removed and handed to the chief supervisor. Paper clips were distributed to the junior clerks like christmas bon-bons. Finally the custodian came to the locked drawer. From his pocket he drew a ring of keys. He began to try each key in turn. The first key didn't fit. The second key didn't fit. The third key...snicked home. And turned. Slowly the custodian pulled out the drawer. The chief supervisor leant forward and looked into the drawer. And in the drawer was...nothing. The story has a point, of course. The point? Simply this; that clerk would have made an ideal soldier. |
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(BENNY ENTERS WEARING ONE BOOT AND CARRYING THE OTHER) BENNY Hi. FRED NERTZ Hi. BENNY Got some matches? FRED NERTZ Sure. I'm Fred Nertz. BENNY Benny Dickson. Do you know how to do this? FRED NERTZ Just light it. (BENNY TRIES TO LIGHT THE TOE OF HIS BOOT WITH A MATCH. IT DOESN'T CATCH) FRED NERTZ Put some more polish on. BENNY Can I? (INDICATES FRED'S POLISH) FRED NERTZ Help yourself. (BENNY APPLIES THE POLISH LIBERALLY) BENNY Is that enough? FRED NERTZ Tons. (BENNY LIGHTS THE TOE OF HIS BOOT) BENNY How's that? (THEY WATCH FOR A FEW SECONDS) FRED NERTZ That should do it. (BENNY SNUFFS THE FLAMES AND WIPES THE SOOT OFF THE BOOT TOE WITH A RAG) BENNY Beaut. Why aren't you out on the range? (STARTS SPIT POLISHING THE BOOT) FRED NERTZ Been to the dentist. How about you? BENNY I'm in disgrace. Confined to barracks. FRED NERTZ Oh yes? (FRED ASSEMBLES HIS BELT) BENNY Pranged the runners bike. FRED NERTZ That'll make them happy. BENNY I think I managed to get under their skin. FRED NERTZ And they've actually charged you? BENNY Not yet. The sergeant told me not to leave my hut on pain of death. FRED NERTZ What are you doing here then? BENNY Well I needed some matches, didn't I? Look you don't want to let these sergeants bluff you. Take away their stripes and they're just as stupid as the next bloke. SERGEANT (ENTERS) Dickson. What the hell are you doing here. I told you not to leave your hut. BENNY I needed some matches, sarg. SERGEANT Well you've got 'em. Get back to your hut and stay there. BENNY (WINKS) See you Fred. FRED NERTZ Yes. (BENNY EXITS FOLLOWED BY THE SERGEANT. FRED PUTS THE BELT ON) Recruit training was a misery. Ten weeks of torture. So we'll skip over the bulk of it. There are only two images I want to dwell on. Number one. Picture this young kid. (THE KID ENTERS) He's eighteen. He's not coping. So he went to the M.O. seeking a discharge on mental grounds. He didn't get it. It's not that the Medical Officer wasn't sympathetic. It's just that in the army these things take time. It's got to be checked out. The M.O. has to be sure that there is no mistake, the boy really is sick, mentally. The boy would have got his discharge, eventually. But this is now. He is sitting in his barracks. His platoon is over at the range throwing grenades. He can hear the faint crump, crump of explosives. Outside the duty platoon is raking the gravel. There is quiet. For the first time in three weeks there is peace and quiet. And that's the problem. Nothing in this kids life up to now has equipped him to cope with the continual assault on his senses of command after command after command after command... And now the quiet is like insulin shock to a numbed mind. But it's too late. This boy is around the twist. And he's thinking. He's thinking. KID They'll never let me go. They don't believe me. (GETS OUT BAYONET AND WHETSTONE) They think I'm putting it on. They can't see how much I hate this place. I hate it. My head feels like it's in a vice and someone is slowly doing it up. Tightening it. (STARTS TO SHARPEN THE BLADE) The others think I'm a quitter. They haven't said so, but I know that's what they're thinking. They think I've got no guts. But it's not true. It's not true. I can do the work. I can march twenty miles. I can do the drill. I just can't stand being crowded all the time. All the time they're crowding me. Crowding. They treat us like prisoners here. They guard us. Day and night. There's a guard on the gate into town. Military Police on the roads. It's a prison. They make us march everywhere. Everywhere, while they shout left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left... I'm not an automaton. I'm a human being. Please why don't you treat me like a human being. I could kill...if I had to. That's what they want me to do. That's what all this training's about. They want to teach me to kill. I could do that. I could kill. I just don't want to become cold blooded about it. (TIES TOURNIQUET AROUND HIS ARM) I've got to show them I'm not scared. You see that, don't you? I've got to show them. I've got to show them and make them let me go. So I've decided to do this thing. (WIPES BAYONET CLEAN) Now I'm telling myself it's not going to hurt. (PLACES TWO FINGERS ON THE EDGE OF THE DESK) Two fingers at the first knuckle. (LINES UP BAYONET AND REHEARSES THE ACTION) It has to be two fingers. At first I thought I might just cut off one finger. But they might not think I'm serious. And I am serious. So I have to cut off two fingers. You see that? I've got to do it. It's the only way to get out of this place. (PSYCH'S HIMSELF UP) Here goes. Here goes. (BRINGS DOWN THE BAYONET, BUT DOESN'T QUITE SEVER THE FINGERS. A SECOND BLOW IS REQUIRED. THE A THIRD. THE SERGEANT ENTERS) SERGEANT Bloody hell. KID Permission to see the Medical Officer, please sergeant. (THE SERGEANT TAKES THE KID OFF) |
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FRED NERTZ The army broke that young lad. It broke others. I was terrified that I might be one of them. I was terrified that I might have to sacrifice a couple of my fingers. I walked around for days with my hand in my pocket and my fingerts wrapped in a handkerchief to protect my fingers. To protect them from me. (THE KID BRINGS IN A SUITCASE. HIS HAND IS BANDAGED. HE STARTS TO PACK. HE IS FINDING IT DIFFICULT.) FRED NERTZ Hello Len. KID Hello Fred. (HE GOES ON PACKING) FRED NERTZ Packing. KID Yes. Dishonorable discharge. FRED NERTZ. Still you're outa here. KID Yea. Me Mum'll be dissapointed. FRED NERTZ Yea. (FRED MOVES TO HELP THE KID PACK.) KID She won't say anything but. She'll smile. FRED NERTZ I suppose. KID Dad won't talk to me. I know that. I know that. FRED NERTZ Yes he will Len. KID Not Dad. (THEY FINISH PACKING. FRED CLOSES THE BAG.) FRED NERTZ What did you do. You know. In Civvy Street. KID I played the guitar. In a dance band. We were alright. FRED NERTZ Yes. KID Well. See you. FRED NERTZ See you. (FRED HOLDS OUT HIS HAND. REALISES HIS MISTAKE AND WITHDRAWS IT. THE KID STARTS TO LEAVE.) FRED NERTZ Len. (LEN STOPS, TURNS.) I wish I had your guts. (FRED TURNS AWAY. THE KID LEAVES. THE DRAFTEES, NOW SOLDIERS, FORM UP IN A LINE. FRED JOINS THE LINE.) OFFICER (2RTB) Men. Ten weeks ago you came here as raw recruits. You were self-centered hedonists from a hedonistic society. Now you are men. You have learnt the virtues of courage, comradeship and shared sweat. Whether you remain as enlisted men or go on to become N.C.O.'s and Officers, you have earnt the right to wear your rank with pride. FRED NERTZ The end of recruit training. The pass out parade. What I could tell you about parades. The stillness of a thousand men standing. The small noises. (SHAKES OUT SEAT OF PANTS) The odours and nowhere to run. I could tell you about the time a dog pissed on the quartermaster and the poor bloke had to just stand there and stink. I could tell you about the heat coming up off the bitumen till your head bursts and men start to faint. I could tell you about the medics crouching in a group at the back of the parade ground immediately behind the WAC's, watching the girls through binoculars. Eventually one of the girls will faint. The medics leap out like randy greyhounds, drag her down into the bushes and set to work. Loosen the clothing, then the kiss of life. Or I could tell you about young Harry Brown. We called him "Jungle Green", naturally. Harry "Jungle Green" Brown fainted on parade one day. And as he fell the naked bayonet on the end of his rifle dug into his cheek and sliced away the flesh from the side of his face. For a few seconds the white bone of his skull shone like a death mask. Then the red started. It took sixteen stitches to fix him up. Why am I doing this. Why am I dwelling on the blood? I know. I know. But it's not the image I wanted to bring out. Blood wasn't what the army was about. OFFICER (2RTB) Men. Ten weeks ago you came here as raw recruits. Today you are soldiers. Now I know you all will be aware that there is some slight debate out there in civy street about the role of the army. You can not let that concern you. Your duty is to the defense of your country. The defense of Australia. To do your duty you have only to obey orders. I know you will do your duty, and do it well. Fall out. (THE OFFICER EXITS. THE SOLDIERS FALL OUT. THE SERGEANT ENTERS WITH AN ESKE. THE SOLDIERS GROUP AROUND HIM) FRED NERTZ Image number two. Recruit training is over. We are all soldiers of a basic sort. We've learnt to work as a team. To think as a team, and now the team is being ripped apart. People leave in twos and threes. Heading out for their new units. It takes a week. By day five there are only a handful of us left, and the sergeant who yelled at us without let up for ten weeks, the devil incarnate, our judge, our executioner, our God, drops his mask for a few beers. (FRED JOINS THE PARTY) SERGEANT Don't worry about corp training. After this you'll find it a piece of piss. Where are you going? SOLDIER 1 Catering. FRED NERTZ Signals. SOLDIER 2 3RAR. SERGEANT 3RAR. Third Battallion, Royal Australian Regiment. A battalion is only as good as the people in it. Don't forget that. All the history of the battallion is bullshit. History never won a war. BENNY Seen any action Sarg? SERGEANT Malaya. Korea before that. Two tours in Vietnam. BENNY Ever kill anyone? SERGEANT Wouldn't have a clue. SOLDIER 1 I couldn't kill anyone. SERGEANT When some bastard's shooting at you you'll shoot back. That's all it takes. Listen you lot. Don't get the idea you're God's answer to the red peril. You're not. You're still a bunch of ignorant shits. Give you a rifle and half of you would kill yourselves. God knows what you'd do with a grenade. Use it as a suppository most likely. Look at you. Little lost sheep. Lambs for the slaughter. Momma's little kiddies. (TO SOLDIER 1 WHO'S LOOKING SCARED) Don't worry, you'll never see a shot fired in anger. You'll all be pampered into your graves. This is a peace time army. Unfit. Unfit for anything but ceremonial parades and funerals. I just hope to God you never have to defend this country. I tell you I'd be out with a white flag quick smart. FRED NERTZ What's the army really like. SERGEANT It's a life. It has its moments. Look at this room. Like a tomb. A week ago it was full of blokes. Five o'clock in the morning I'd be showered, shaved, dressed. Boots polished while you lot were still rolling about in your wet dreams. Smiles on your faces like filthy minded cherubs. I'd storm through shouting. Tip one or two of you out of bed. I was the sergeant you loved to hate. The voice. Gravel guts. BENNY You treated us like bastards. SERGEANT I mothered you like a broody bloody chook. SOLDIER 1 You worked us into the ground. SERGEANT I turned you into half way decent soldiers. I made you. But you won't remember that. You won't remember the names of your mates. Mates you had here. Or what it was like to be part of a team and proud. That's what you'll forget first. The pride. (PAUSE) We were doing a sweep up lighthouse hill. Snow, me mate was off to the right. The rain was pissing down. The hillside had become a set of interlocked waterfalls. Water washing away earth, rocks, tress. I was held up at one torrent and Snow moved on ahead about twenty yards. I looked up just as the claymore went off. About seventy ball bearings hit Snow. One of them went in through his eye. It skidded around and around inside his skull expending it's energy. Mincing his brains. When we picked up the body strawberry milkshake oozed out of the eye socket. (THE SERGEANT AND THE SOLDIERS EXIT) FRED NERTZ That put me off strawberry milkshakes for life. I didn't like this business of people getting killed. It scared me. I'm very attached to life. Why should I put that at risk? We all love life. Why should any of us lay so much on the line? That was the end of recruit training. Next day I left Puckapunyal for corp training at the School of Signals, Ingleburn. The sergeant was right. Corp training was easier. We had some status now. We were even allowed to bring our cars into camp. (WE ARE NOW AT INGLEBURN. BITZER ENTERS AND STARTS TO SCREAM ON FRED'S FULL STOP) BITZER Right you lot. (SOLDIERS RACE ON AND FORM UP) I'm Squadron Sergeant Major Warden. Some men call me Bitzer. I don't like that. It makes me mad. Otherwise I'm a tolerant man. I love people. I love to get on with people. I'm gentle. I'm kind. I'm a wonderful person. But. There's one thing I can't stand. Birdshit. Birdshit on cars. I can't stand birdshit on cars. If I find any birdshit on any car I will cease being kind. I will cease being tolerant. I will turn into a raving bloody maniac. Do I make myself clear? (PAUSE) Parade, fall out. (BITZER EXITS) BENNY Who does he think he is. FRED NERTZ God? BENNY It's my car. If I want to drive around in a heap of birdshit that's my business. FRED NERTZ Benny. Next week he'll be down on something else. He'll forget about cars. Just ride it out. BENNY That's not the point. It's my car. Buggered if I'll let Bitzer tell me what to do with it. FRED NERTZ So you're not going to clean it? BENNY I'm going to find a tree full of birds, and park under that tree. I'm going to have the shittiest car you're ever likely to see. (BITZER ENTERS) BITZER There's a car in the car park covered in birdshit. Who's is it? BENNY Mine sir. BITZER Clean it up. BENNY It's like this... BITZER Clean it up. BENNY Can I make the point... BITZER Shut up. Atten shun. (SILENCE) You're on a charge Sig Dickson. Stand fast. Parade, fall out. (THE PARADE, EXCEPT BENNY, FALL OUT. FRED COMMENTS IN PASSING) FRED NERTZ You handled that real well. BENNY That Bitzer's a mongrel. |
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(THE OFFICER ENTERS AND TALKS TO BITZER. HE THEN CROSSES TO THE DESK AND SITS. BENNY STAYS AT ATTENTION. FRED WALKS TO THE SIDE OF THE STAGE AND OBSERVES) OFFICER (INGLEBURN) About this Sig Dickson. BITZER Basically a good type, sir. A bit stubborn. Needs discipline. OFFICER (INGLEBURN) Then we'll just give him something to think about. March him in S.S.M. BITZER Yes sir. (CROSSES TO BENNY) Accused, quick march. Right turn, left turn, halt. (BITZER HALTS BENNY BEFORE DESK) OFFICER (INGLEBURN) Sig Dickson. Anything to say? BENNY The car is my property, sir. OFFICER (INGLEBURN) That constitutes evidence against you. BENNY Surely my property... OFFICER (INGLEBURN) Is parked on government property. The S.S.M. was quite within his rights to order you to clean it up. BENNY What about my rights, sir. OFFICER (INGLEBURN) You don't have any. BENNY Sir? OFFICER (INGLEBURN) Other than those set out in the army act and its attendant regulations. Beyond that, nothing. You must obey any lawfully given command. BENNY But if I don't agree with the order, sir. OFFICER (INGLEBURN) Then you come to me. But you've got to carry out the order first. BENNY But it's my car, sir. OFFICER (INGLEBURN) The bird shit on it is government bird shit. You can be ordered to clean up government bird shit. I'm going to fine you ten dollars and ten days confined to barracks. BENNY Can I have a second opinion, sir. OFFICER (INGLEBURN) Twenty dollars and twenty days C.B. March him out S.S.M. BITZER Prisoner...right turn. Quick march. (THE OFFICER EXITS) Prisoner halt. March time. Break into double time...double march. Lef ri lef ri lef ri. Right turn, right turn, about turn, about turn, lef ri lef ri lef ri. Keep it up lad. Keep it up. About turn. Lef ri lef ri lef ri. Not getting tired, are you? Lef ri lef ri. About turn. Left turn. March time. (HALTS BENNY FACING THE AUDIENCE. BENNY MARCHES ON THE SPOT) Get those legs up. COme on lad. This is not a holiday. Lef ri lef ri lef ri. (BITZER PAUSES BEHIND BENNY AND MOPS HIS BROW) BENNY (ADDRESSES AUDIENCE) I don't mind really. I mean who's suffering. Not me. Look at him. Bleedin' red in the face. High blood pressure. Cholesterol. Wouldn't be surprised if he dropped dead any second. And he's missing out on his booze. Me? I'm getting fitter. I don't mind that. BITZER Prisoner, Halt. Smarten your ideas up Dickson. Smarten them up and we'll get along fine. Report to the orderly room in thirty minutes. Full battle dress and field pack. Fall out. (BENNY FALLS OUT AND STROLLS OFF) Come back here you worm. March. March. How dare you walk on my parade ground. You march across the parade ground. Only two people walk on this parade ground. Me and Jesus Christ, and when I catch up with him there'll only be me. Atten..shun. About turn. Quick march. And clean your car. (BITZER EXITS. BENNY TURNS TO ARGUE, BUT BITZER'S GONE) BENNY The bugger did it to me. FRED NERTZ Enjoy your march. BENNY So so. FRED NERTZ Are you going to clean your car? BENNY Of course. Who likes a shitty car? (BENNY EXITS) FRED NERTZ Benny's a big part of this tangle in my mind. Benny the bucker. He was an habitual system bucker. He disliked orders. A nut cracker would put it down to a rejection of parental authority, or something. But that's not sufficient. Benny enjoyed tackling the system. He was a gambler, without the gambler's feel for the odds. (BITZER ENTERS AND THE SOLDIERS RUSH ON WITH CHAIRS AND SIT IN A ROW FACING THE AUDIENCE. TWO SOLDIERS CARRY IN A TABLE WITH A 16MM FILM PROJECTOR) BITZER Men. By arrangement with the Medical Training Unit we've got a film for you on the war. Now this film is a bit gorey. If you feel you're about to throw up, go outside. There are no prizes for the biggest chuck. Lights. (LIGHTS GO DOWN. THE PROJECTOR STARTS. THE SOLDIERS ARE WATCHING A FILM) F.X. MARTIAL THEME MUSIC SWELLS THEN FADES UNDER VOICE OVER. VOICE OVER Vietnam. Medical aid to the fighting man has taken on a new dimension thanks to the medivac chopper. F.X. SWELL SOUND OF A HELICOPTER. THEN FADE. VOICE OVER It's just ten minutes since this soldier was shot. X-Rays show a bullet lodged near the aorta. Inches from the heart. Surgery begins. F.X. HEART BEAT. (SOLDIERS START TO GO GREEN) FRED NERTZ We were looking at a closeup of this bloke's chest. In the centre was a little bullet hole with the blood spurting out in time with the sound track. Then a gloved hand holding a scalpel came into the picture and cut this bloke from throat to sternum. (FRED SUPPRESSES A FEW HEAVES AND LEAVES. HE, AND THE OTHER EXITEES IN THEIR TURN, RUSH TOWARDS THE BACK OF THE STAGE, THEN WALK DOWN STAGE ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE. THIS IS "OUTSIDE") VOICE OVER The chest cavity has been layed open. The lungs. (BITZER IS TRYING TO DISGUISE A REBELLIOUS STOMACH) F.X. HEARTBEAT SWELLS. VOICE OVER The heart. (THE TRICKLE OF EXITEES BECOMES A FLOOD) (FADING) The bullet is located. (EVERYONE BUT BENNY AND BITZER HAVE LEFT. BENNY GET'S UP TO GO) BITZER You're a brave lot. Heaven help us if there's a real war. BENNY How about a nice meat pie dripping with tomato sauce, S.S.M. (BITZER FIGHTS FOR CONTROL OF HIS STOMACH) BITZER You think someone with their guts shot out is funny, do you? BENNY No sir. BITZER Sit down. Face the front. We'll see how funny it is. Move. (BITZER AND BENNY SIT AND SUFFER. FRED ARRIVES "OUTSIDE" WITH SOME OF THE OTHER SOLDIERS) SOLDIER 3 Who's your made mate? FRED NERTZ He's not my mate. In fact he doesn't really exist. SOLDIER 3 Go on. FRED NERTZ He's a composite, you might say. Bits of all the dills and brains I met in the army. Norm Normal. A sort of everyman. SOLDIER 3 You're a bit of a case yourself, aren't you? FRED NERTZ Eh? (THE MUSIC SWELLS FOR A FINAL CHORD. THE FILM ENDS. THE LIGHTS COME UP. BENNY EXITS TOWARDS THE BACK OF THE STAGE LOOKING VERY SICK INDEED. BITZER WAITS TILL HE'S GONE THEN BOLTS, HAND OVER MOUTH, INTO THE WINGS. BENNY JOINS FRED "OUTSIDE") BENNY Hell. I used to enjoy movies. FRED NERTZ Your face matches your shirt. BENNY It feels like it. (TO SOLDIER 3) Wouldn't you like a nice thick juicy steak with runny eggs on the side? (SOLDIER 3 RUSHES INTO THE WINGS HEAVING, AND BENNY DOESN'T LOOK TOO HEALTHY EITHER) FRED NERTZ You alright? BENNY Beaut. You should see Bitzer. He turned every shade in the book. FRED NERTZ Did he throw up? BENNY Naw. He didn't dare. Poor bastard. Couldn't loose face in front of the troops. Tortured himself to death keeping it down, but. FRED NERTZ You're the one who's sick. Why do you do it? BENNY What? FRED NERTZ Stir up Bitzer. You never win. BENNY I have fun. That's what it's all about, isn't it? FRED NERTZ Just fun? BENNY What else? FRED NERTZ You went in there. Endured that film for fun? BENNY To see the look on Bitzer's face. It was worth it. It was bloody worth it. (PAUSE) FRED NERTZ Putting in for Vietnam. BENNY Soon as I finish Corp Training. FRED NERTZ You believe in the war then? BENNY What's that got to do with it? (PAUSE) What about you? FRED NERTZ The war's illegal. We shouldn't be there. BENNY What's that got to do with it? FRED NERTZ I might go. I don't know. BENNY See you in Vietnam then. FRED NERTZ Yea. I guess. See you in Vietnam. (THEY EXIT IN OPPOSITE DIRECTIONS) SCENE ENDS |
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copyright (c) 1979 & 2000
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