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There's a certain amount of slang in the script that was unique to Vietnam. An index to this is at
the slang page.
You'll find more on Vietnam here.
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This play is based in a loose sort of way on my experiences in Vietnam. I didn't want to go to Vietnam. I was drafted into the army with a sort of inevitably that was scary. A few years before I turned eighteen the government got itself involved in the Vietnam thing and introduced conscription. A few years after I got back from Vietnam the Labour party got into power and the very first thing they did, of course, was abolish conscription and bring the boys home from Vietnam. Yes, from my point of view it was inevitable that I'd get drafted. I knew I was going to get picked on. I knew my marble would come up. The Draft was something that was put there just for me. I knew I was going to have to face the Big Questions. Do I consciously object? Go to gaol? Resist the draft? Or do I do along with the whole inevitable process and just see what happens? I did think about consciously objecting but I couldn't bring myself to believe in the evil of war. I mean. I'd read "War and Peace", "All's Quiet on the Western Front", "The Naked and the Dead" and "Catch 22". But I'd also read "Gunga Din" and "The Four Feathers" and practically all the Biggles books. I was confused. I mean just because you believe in peace and love and flowers-in-the-barrels-of-the-guns doesn't mean the guy in that tank coming towards you is going to put his foot on the brake. It doesn't depend on you. It depends entirely on the state of the guy in the tank's stomach. Did he enjoy his breakfast? Is he at peace with the world, or does he have indigestion? Is he going to lift his foot off the accelerator and put it on the brake, or is he going to say "Fuck it." and put his foot to the floor. After all what harm are you going to do to his tank standing there with some stupid flower in your hand if in fact he does run over you. Exactly nothing, that's what. The tank won't even dent. Or care. Now I have no interest in putting my entire existence at the mercy of somebody's stomach. Knowing army food (as I do) that is entirely too big a risk to take. I'd rather be inside the tank doing something useful like shoving bullets up the spout of the cannon. Better yet I'd like to be in the driver's seat. I'd trust myself to make life and death decisions regarding the jerk with the flower standing out there in front of the tank, but personally I wouldn't trust anyone else to make those sorts of decisions as far as I could spit. As you can see there's a lot to this whole war issue. It's not just a matter of "War is Hell". Nor is it just a matter of "Death or Glory". The whole thing has got more aspects than you can poke a stick at. So I took along my own stick when I got drafted and poked away at the pustulent boil that is the army and this play is the result. |
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