Scythes & Rounds by Jim Maceda
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This Play is the copyright of the Author and must not be Performed, Copied or Sold without the Author's prior consentACT 1:
Scene 1 begins in total darkness, at US Marine Combat Outpost
Brightman, in Marjah, Helmand province, Southern Afghanistan.
A call to prayer from a mosque's loudspeaker echoes in the distance.
A small spot of bright red light appears, followed by one mini
flashlight after another, to reveal 2 small huddles of Marines,
veterans in one and new arrivals in the other.
Their squad leader is about to give a pre-mission brief. A couple of
massive MRAP armored vehicles dominate the backdrop.
TORRES: Fuckin'listen up, Marines.
ALL: Oo-rah.
TORRES: First off, if you're wonderin' why [points to himself]
yours truly, Old Dick Gunny Sergeant Torres, proud Spic from El Paso
that I am, is squattin' in your squad leader's seat today, well,
it's because you've won the fuckin' lottery. [some giggling] And
also, since I gotta go on this mission anyhow, I plan to do it without
taking any fuckin' orders from the likes of Sgt Wolford - where are
you, Blue 6? [Smiles]
WOLFORD: Here, sir.
The vets laugh politely.
TORRES: Ok, we got that straight.
He spits some chaw into his water bottle.
TORRES: Now if you REALLY wanna know, I'm comin' out with
you studs to check on some times and distances, maybe get a log train
goin' for supplies and ammo between here and our freagin' British
brothers in Lash and Nad Ali.
VETS: Oo-rah!
TORRES: That's what I'll be trackin' while YOU gentlemen get
to do some freagin' COIN today. White!
WHITE: Yes, sir!
TORRES: What's COIN, White? And don't tell me it's that
civilian shit jingling in your pocket. [More laughs.]
WHITE: Counter-insurgency, sir.
TORRES: That's right, counter-insurgency. It's how all the
fuckin' higher ups tell us we're gonna win this war, right?
ALL: Oo-rah
TORRES: Well, after all these weeks of gettin' ambushed and
blown-up by the fuckin' Dushman,
He spits more chaw into his plastic bottle.
TORRES: You're finally gonna get a taste of why we're
goin' through all that.
BIGGIO: You mean, no combat patrols today, Gunny?
TORRES: Roger that. This should be - [looks up in the sky] God
willing - a NON-kinetic day.
WHITE: Amen!
TORRES: Where's Matt?
HAMILTON: Over here, Gunny.
TORRES: Jesus, you all look like a bunch of red fuckin' Indians in
this light. (more laughs). Sorry 'bout that, Chief.
CHIEF: [Loudly] OO-RAH!!
TORRES: Ok, now this is ... fuckin'... Matt Hamilton. He's the
State Department Civil Affairs dude who's doin' most of the work
today. Your job will be to cover his ass. And mine.
Torres nods at Hamilton as he spits more chaw into his bottle.
HAMILTON: Good morning, guys. Well, as Gunny just said I'm one of
the civil affairs 'dudes' here in the Nad e Ali and Lashkar Gah
districts of Helmand Province. Oo-rah! [He pauses here, and, slightly
embarrassed by the silence, continues] You men are supporting
today's mission because, as you've probably heard, the level of
contact has eased somewhat in recent—
CHIEF : [More to his other buddies in the vet group] Yeah, cause
we've been kickin' their butts, that's why!!
VETS: OO-RAH!!
Hamilton lets the men settle down, clears his throat.
HAMILTON: OK, as I was saying, the level of violence has dropped in
recent days in this AO [pauses] but you know we can't kill our
way to victory here.
Hamilton senses the group of vets already getting antsy, and he gets
louder.
HAMILTON: And you should feel good about today's mission,
because it'll show how you're really making a difference here.
[Another long, silent pause] All the British not in combat today are
busy training Afghan police so we're going to help them and
ourselves - with some humanitarian assistance. [More silence] First,
we'll visit some Afghan farmers who just weeks ago were harvesting
poppy and selling it to the Taliban.
CHIEF: I'd be doing the same fuckin' thing if I was them
[giggles]!
HAMILTON: Well, they're now growing wheat and cotton -subsidized by
the Coalition - and selling it to their own people, through us.
That's the kind of progress we're looking for.
ALL: [Dead silence]
HAMILTON: and as I saidwith the security situation improving a
little each day we'll then check in on a 'work-for-cash'
project where we've hired a dozen or so locals to dig some
irrigation ditches, again, so that other farmers in Nad Ali can grow
more and better fruit and make more money than just selling narcotics,
so
CHIEF: Come on! You can't make more money in this shithole than
selling opium!
HAMILTON: That's just it you can. You can make twice the profit
selling, say, pomegranates than selling opium paste to the Taliban.
WHITE: Shit!
HAMILTON: [Clears his throat] We want to encourage that and you guys
are bringing the security piece to the table to make that progress
happen. Oo-rah!
VETS: [Still dead silence]
HAMILTON: Ok. And finally, once in Nad e Ali, we'll take a look at a
warehouse that was a Taliban hideout but has now been cleared - maybe
even by you guys?
BIGGIO: [Breaking the silence] You got that right!!
HAMILTON: Alright!! Well as you'll see this is the just the kind of
building that would make a great school in a strategic location.
BIGGIO: It sure the hell made a great snipers' nest.
HAMILTON: It's off a decent road and near the Afghan police station,
so there's built-in protection for the kids we want to see back in
school this fall.
WHITE: [Aside to Biggio] Getting protection from the Afghan police?
Is he fuckin' kidding? [More laughs among the squad]
HAMILTON: [Still on message] And that's yet another sign of progress
for the locals to latch onto[Smiles broadly] In a word,
Counter-insurgencyin its essence, gentlemen.
By now the veterans in the squad have lost interest and are joking
among themselves, while the rookies remain intent and focused on the
brief, trying not to show their nerves.
HAMILTON: Think of it - a mixed boys' and girls' school right in
the middle of a former Taliban stronghold. Wouldn't that send a
signal to all the fence-sitters that we Americans and British -
build schools in their district while the Taliban shut them down?
VOICE: I wish the fuckin' Brits would build some pubs!
The vets mix loud giggles with other comments.
TORRES: [Bringing some order] Alright Fuckin' listen up!
[Pauses] Ok, let's do the TTP's - Biggio, we're ambushed. What
d'ya do?
BIGGIO: [Collecting himself] Ahlocate source of fire, sir
andah
TORRES: Ahwhat, Biggio? Locate source of fire and then what?
BIGGIO: Ahfuckin' light 'em up, sir. [This elicits major
laughs]
TORRES: Fuckin' light 'em up, Biggio? I can't believe my own
driver just said that. [Yells now] You're a fuckin' friendly fire
incident waiting to happen!
BIGGIO: Sorry, sir. It's early.
CHIEF: Biggio hasn't had his 15 Red Bulls yet, Gunny. [More
laughter]
TORRES: White, you locate the source of fire in an ambush and then
what?
WHITE: [Quickly, by rote] Sir, push through if possible, if not,
dismount and return fire after positively identifying the source of
fire, SIR.
TORRES: Roger that. [Turns to Biggio] And that's why White here is
a fuckin' corporal and you're still a low-life, Biggio.
The other vets laugh at this while the rookies remain serious and
focused.
TORRES: OK, you establish PID first, THEN you check for any
civilian presence, wait for the order, and only then do you return
fire. Oo-rah?
ALL: Oo-rah.
TORRES: Chief?
CHIEF: Yes, sir.
TORRES: Fuckin'indirect firego!
CHIEF: Indirect fire, same drill, sir. Push through if possible,
locate source of fire, call in CAS or artillery who light 'em up
once we get a grid on 'em.
TORRES: Jeezuslight em up, light em up?!!Negative, gunner! We
don't fuckin' light 'em up UNLESS intel says there're no units
or civilians in or near the target! It's called Rules of Engagement.
[In Chief's face] HELLO???
CHIEF: [Pauses, deflated] I hear you, sir.
BIGGIO: [Vindicated, to Chief] Red Bull, huh?bull SHIT, Sitting
Bull!
TORRES: Sergeant Wolford, your truck just hits a fuckin' IED
WOLFORD: [Loudly, with confidence] Dismount, pull security, treat any
casualties, and follow orders up the chain of command.
TORRES: Correctomundo. Every fuckin blow-up is different, Marines. So
you look to Sgt Wolford or to me for guidance to get us out of the
shit. And if we're fucked up, Corporal White over there takes
command. Matt, you've finished?
HAMILTON: Well, Gunny, I would only add that you all should look on
today as the beginning of a different battle, a battle for the trust &
confidence of these Afghans whom you're here to help. It's—
Chief lets off a huge fart, followed by loud cries of laughter.
TORRES: Fuckin' incoming! [Laughs]
HAMILTON: [Picks up where he left off] It's a battle now for good
governance in the Central Helmand River Valley. That's the REAL
prize, winning over the people with good governance. And that's
pretty significant stuff. So have a great day. [heavy silence]
TORRES: And a hot British meal and freagin' shower waiting for you
at FOB Nelson.
ALL: [A loud] OO-RAH!!
Torres points his bottle of spit at the Marines like a weapon.
TORRES: But no girlie showers, ok? Find the fuckin' time to
facilitate Old Dick here by bringin' back a shit load of good ol'
Brit reheatable meals for your fuckin' platoon mates.
BIGGIO: Steak &fuckin' kidney pie. My favorite!
Torres spits more chaw slowly into his bottle.
TORRES: OK, this is a so-called 'humanitarian mission' but
weapons are red. Don't get fuckin' lazy on me. Complacency kills,
oo-rah?
ALL: [A weak] Oo-rah.
TORRES: Sgt Wolford, what's the route?
WOLFORD: Ok, we SP at oh six fifteen, we'll infill on Route
Delaware, along the canals towards Lashkar Gah - where I believe
thosefuckin'farmers are?
HAMILTON: That's right, Sergeant.
WOLFORD: then we'll reverse and proceed West on Delaware, turn
north on California, and up towards Nad-Ali.
HAMILTON: And that's where we'll run into that coalition
work-for-cash program near the orchards up there. We also have about a
dozen new scythes to hand out to the farmers
White turns to Biggio and Bryan.
WHITE: If we don't get blown up, first.
BIGGIO: [Laughs] What the fuck's a scythe?
WHITE: It's like the Grim Reaper, you retard.
HAMILTON: Like sickles.
CHIEF: Ice sickles? We could sure use some of those in this
fuckin' heat! [Some laughter]
HAMILTON: [Smiles] No, we'd keep those, Lance Corporal. You'll
know them when you see them. It's what your great-grandparents may
have used to harvest their crops in the old days.
CHIEF: Fuck that. It's what we used to harvest SCALPS with in MY
tribe, White Man! [More laughs]
TORRES: Okfuckin'listen up. Sergeant!
WOLFORD: Ok, and then that school is just on the southeast tip of Nad
e Ali? [Hamilton nods]
TORRES: [More to Hamilton] We know that area. We took a whoopin'
clearing it last week. One sniper round in the neck, another caught
some fuckin' shrapnel that ripped him up good.
He spits again into his bottle.
TORRES: We just had thefuckin'memorial service for
both of them [packing the chaw under his lip] I think the day
before you arrived.
HAMILTON: I'm sorry to hear that, Miguel.
TORRES: So are we. [Pauses, spits again] Okfuckin'listen up.
Camp Nelson is about 10 clicks from thatschooland we exfil by
the same route, correct?
WOLFORD: Roger that, sir.
TORRES: Too easy. Ok, now, the higher ups have set the risk level
today as amber for some fuckin' reason, so we're rolling with only
2 trucks, not the usual 3. OK? So make your fuckin' adjustments,
Marines. Stay doubly alert. The good news is that air is green. So we
should have helo cover and eyes on from our air assets, just in case.
OK, so, in Vic Alpha, there's gonna be Old Dick me. Biggio?
BIGGIO: Oo-rah.
TORRES: Chief?
CHIEF: Yo.
TORRES: White.
WHITE: Here, Gunny.
TORRES: And Ahmad?.
In the silence, Torres waves his flashlight.
TORRES: Where's the fuckin' terp?
AHMAD: Sorry, sir.Ahmad is here present, sir.
TORRES: Salaam aleichem. [Smiles] Wake up, Ahmad!
AHMAD: Aleichem salaam, sir!
TORRES: You said your morning prayers yet, Ahmad?
AHMAD: Not yet sir.
TORRES: Not yet - well, you hear the call to prayer, don't you?
What kind of freagin' Muslim are you? [laughs from others]
AHMAD: A very bad Muslim, sir. I guess. [Smiles]
TORRES: [Smiles] Ok, in Vic Bravo…we've got some rookies! [That
elicits hazing sounds from the vets]. Ok, enough of that, we've all
been there. Even you, General Biggio.
He calls out more names, reading from a piece of paper.
TORRES: Private First Class Stump?
STUMP: Here, sir. [over some barely suppressed giggling]
TORRES: And Lance Corporal Dortman?
DORTMAN: Oo-rah.
TORRES: Dortman, you been a gunner before?
DORTMAN: Yes sir, in Ramadi. 2008.
TORRES: Oo-rah. Welcome aboard. I'm sorry you had to join us AFTER
the Big Show. This may be a little slow for you fuckin' EYE-raq War
studs.
DORTMAN: No problem, sir.
TORRES: You just do what you're trained to do, watch your
battle's back and take orders from your freagin' team leader, Sgt
Wolford. Ok, [louder] Davis?
DAVIS: Yes, sir.
TORRES: Hospital Corpsman Davis here is our freagin' medic today.
Doc, you'll be in the 2nd vic.
DAVIS: Aye, aye, sir.
TORRES: Aye, aye, sir? Navy pussy. [Torres smiles, and triggers a
ripple of laughter] Brief us, Doc.
Davis, a Utah native, speaks slowly and emphatically.
DAVIS: Sir, there's one trauma pack behind the gear box inside each
truck, and I'm carrying a full kit as well. I recommend everyone
keeps their tourniquets close at hand.
ALL: [Lots of 'Oo-rah's]
TORRES: Ok, good call, Doc. Nowfuckin'listen up. Matt here is
right when he says there've been no tics on our route in the past 48
hours. But the Dushman is still out there. He's watching us. He's
trying to figure out how to fuck us up big time just as we're trying
to figure out what the fuck HE'S up to. So, remember, Marines,
while you're out there today winnin' those fuckin' hearts &
minds [Torres looks directly at Hamilton] the enemy will be shaking
your hand one minute and trying to blow your ass up the next. You
trackin'?
ALL: OO-RAH!!
TORRES: Ok. [Smiles] We don't want Stump here to end up lookin'
like afuckin'stump, do we? You know what I'm sayin',
Stump?
Everyone laughs, then Torres laughs and pats Stump on the shoulder.
Stump cracks his first smile.
STUMP: It's ok, sir. I'm used to it.
TORRES: I bet my ass you are. Well, welcome to 3rd Platoon, Weapons
Company, 1-8 Marines. Stump, where you from?
STUMP: Fresh in from Leatherneck, sir.
TORRES: I know you're fuckin' green, boy. I mean, where are you
fuckin' FROM, Stump?
Stump stumbles, his southern accent more acute now.
STUMP: AhFitzgerald, Georgia, sir.
TORRES: Georgia. Well, you'll get over it [laughs] Hey, with a
name like Stump you must be one tough son of a bitch to make it this
far!
More laughs from the group, which is now meshed more into one group.
STUMP: We'll see, sir.
TORRES: And you know how to drive one of these fuckin' coffins on
wheels? [More giggles]
STUMP: Yes sir. MRAP, Categories 1 and 2. [Proudly] I'm certified,
sir.
TORRES: Good to go. You and.
He looks down at his paper and around in the reddish-lit dark.
TORRES: fuckin'Dortman over there
DORTMAN: Yes, sir.
TORRES: Let me tell you two dudes something. You're replacing two
damn fine Marines. Two dead Marines. Don't ever forget that.
STUMP/
DORTMAN: Oo-rahoo-rahsirsir.
TORRES: Ok, so we're 2 vics today, 8 pax, a terp and one Civil
Affairs civilian. No friendlies. No reporters. That's 10 fuckin'
souls I intend to return to this miserable base, in one fuckin'
piece, by dark. Ok, we SP in 30 minutes.
He spits one last time into his water bottle.
TORRES: Suit-up, Marines.
ALL: OO-RAH!!
The red penlights go out as the Marines break up and clear the stage
in different directions.
By now the scene is dimly lit by the dawn, and singing magpies have
replaced the muezzin of pre-dawn prayers.
End Of Scene 1
[end of extract]
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