ACT III

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