Soldiers and Other Living Things by Michael Boyd
CHARACTER BREAKDOWN:
[in order of appearance]
CHRIS - Soldier, early 20's, confined to wheelchair most of play
BILLY - Soldier, early 20's, black
TAYLOR - Soldier, early-20's, from the South
BOSS - A Lieutenant, slightly older than the others
THE SOCIAL WORKER - Ethnic Female, 40's
MICHAEL - Chris' younger brother, 18 years old
GLORIA - Chris' older sister, 27 years old
TOM - Gay man circa 1975, a "clone"
SCENE 1
Khe Sahn, Vietnam
Christmas Eve
1974
(Two Soldiers, CHRIS &BILLY, are on watch duty. BILLY is lying on his
stomach and looking through binoculars.)
CHRIS: Billy?
BILLY: What?
CHRIS: Doesn't feel like Christmas, does it?
BILLY: (taking the binoculars from his face) And what the fuck is
Christmas supposed to feel like?
CHRIS: Not like this.
BILLY: Don't tell me you scared? It's quiet as shit out there. Charlie
done took the night off. Guess they all at midnight mass or some
shit.
CHRIS: Are you sure?
BILLY: I'm sure, Chris. My ass is on the line here too. I do my job,
okay?
CHRIS: Your job?
BILLY: (he chuckles) That's funny. Wonder if I use that on job
applications when I get back? (imitating a female interviewer) “I see
here that you worked for the United States government."
CHRIS: (playing along) "How wonderful! And what exactly did you
do?”
BILLY: What did I do? I fuckin' killed people, Lady. Now, give my ass
a job!
(TAYLOR sneaks in and tosses his pack between BILLY and CHRIS.
Frightened, they immediately jump into firing position with their
weapons aimed at TAYLOR.)
TAYLOR: Hey, take it easy! Don't shoot! It's me!
CHRIS:What the fuck is wrong with you, Taylor? We could've fucking
killed you!
BILLY: We shoulda shot your dumb ass! What the fuck's the matter
with you! I swear, you white people….
TAYLOR: Us white people what?
BILLY: Are fuckin' retarded.
TAYLOR: Chris is white. Is he retarded?
BILLY: No, you're retarded, motherfucker.
TAYLOR: You like that word, don't you?
BILLY: What word?
TAYLOR: (imitating BILLY) "Motherfucker."
BILLY: You got a problem with that?
TAYLOR: You're a jerk. (to CHRIS, ignoring BILLY) I'm sorry. I didn't
mean to scare you.
BILLY: Well, you did, motherfucker!
TAYLOR: Why do all you colored guys curse so much?
BILLY: I don't know 'bout no "colored" guys, but I can tell you
why the “black” ones do. Assholes like you.
CHRIS: (interrupting before TAYLOR can respond) When I was a kid,
every year after Christmas Eve mass we'd come home and find my Dad
dressed up as Santa Claus. That was fun!
BILLY: That was stupid.
TAYLOR: What's stupid about it?
BILLY: (to CHRIS) You knew it was him, right? (CHRIS nods) So what was
the point?
TAYLOR: You know, Billy, that's an amazing talent you have there. You
might be the only person I know who could start an argument in an
empty room.
BILLY: Because I think something is stupid?
CHRIS: What's stupid is spending Christmas in the middle of the jungle
with two soldiers who act like they hate each other more than they
hate the VC.
BILLY: But next year this time, man, I'll be back at home living
large! Livin' like a hero.
TAYLOR: Hero? And that's important, right?
BILLY: Damn straight, it's important!
TAYLOR: Why?
BILLY: Cause “chicks can't wait to get down, with the hero who's come
back to town!” And, I'm telling you, they gon' be lining up for a
piece of this fine, brown hero. Don't you think we deserve some kind
of reward for going through all this war shit?
TAYLOR: What I think is that some of us should learn how to go through
life without wanting to be patted on the back for everything we do.
BILLY: What the fuck does that mean? Are you tryin' to insult me, or
something?
TAYLOR: Face it, Billy, you're no hero. And you're never gonna be one.
Did you read the newspapers, or watch the news before coming here? Or
were you too busy “hangin' out with your main man?” Vietnam has no
heroes.
BILLY: What the fuck do you know?
TAYLOR: I know that you wouldn't even be here if you didn't have to
be. You're only here because you were too dumb to figure out a way to
beat the draft.
(BILLY lunges at TAYLOR, CHRIS quickly grabs BILLY and pulls him away
from TAYLOR.)
CHRIS: Billy! What the fuck!
BILLY: He's fuckin' with my manhood!
CHRIS: No he's not, Billy. Relax!
BILLY: Thinks he's better than everybody else!
CHRIS: Let it go, Billy!
TAYLOR: Oh, I see. It's okay for you to say anything you want, but the
minute somebody says something you don't like then you want to fight!
I'm just “telling it like it is,” Billy. Isn't that what you people
do?
(BILLY breaks away from CHRIS.)
BILLY: Fuck you both! (moving towards TAYLOR) And you…
(BOSS enters.)
BILLY: ...you can fuckin' kiss my ass, faggot!
BOSS: What the hell is going on out here? (no one answers him) What
the fuck are you two soldiers fighting about? (they still don't answer
him) Let me ask you something, do you want to go home? Do you want to
get the fuck out of here alive? Do you?!
BILLY &TAYLOR: Yes, sir.
BOSS: Then you better fucking learn to like each other! Because that's
all you have! Each other! Do you understand that? Do you?!?
CHRIS, BILLY &TAYLOR: Yes, sir.
BOSS: (to TAYLOR) Private Nelson?
TAYLOR: Yes, sir?
BOSS: Apologize to Private Johnson. Tell him you're sorry.
TAYLOR: I didn't do anything to be sorry for, sir.
BOSS: I don't fucking care! Tell him you're sorry!
(TAYLOR looks at BOSS and then BILLY, but doesn't speak. Finally,
BILLY approaches TAYLOR.)
BILLY: (to TAYLOR) Look, I'm sorry, man, okay? It's fuckin' Christmas,
you know? And it's playing games with my head, making me a little
crazy and shit, okay? I still got your back, man, okay? (extends his
hand to TAYLOR) We still cool?
TAYLOR: (to BOSS, ignoring BILLY) Request permission to be dismissed,
sir?
BOSS: Get the fuck outta here, soldier.
(TAYLOR exits.)
BILLY: I'm sorry, Boss. I didn't mean…
BOSS: (still looking in the direction of TAYLOR's exit) Save it,
Billy. (he continues staring offstage)
CHRIS: (after a moment) You okay, Boss?
BOSS: (turning to face CHRIS) Do I fucking look okay?
(Rounds of automatic gunfire begins, loud and from all directions.)
BILLY: Oh shit, incoming!
CHRIS: Taylor! Taylor!
(BILLY and CHRIS grab their gear and run offstage, BOSS simply covers
his ears and closes his eyes until the sound fades away)
SCENE 2
SOCIAL WORKER's Office
VA Hospital, Bronx NY
July 1975
(Two chairs sit in the middle of a stark and institutional room. BOSS
is standing in the middle of the room with his hands over his ears
from the previous scene. As he slowly moves his hands from ears, the
SOCIAL WORKER enters and sits down.)
SOCIAL WORKER: Name, please? (BOSS doesn't answer) Is this going to be
one of those interviews?
(BOSS takes out a pack of cigarettes.)
SOCIAL WORKER: There's no smoking allowed on the ward. Please put
those away. What day is it?
BOSS: (sitting down) I honestly don't know. All the days seem the same
in here. Does that make me crazy?
SOCIAL WORKER: Do you hear voices? (BOSS gives her a look) I mean
voices that no one else hears? (ignoring her, BOSS takes out a
cigarette lighter) I said there's no smoking in here. And lighters are
strictly forbidden on this ward. Where did you get that?
BOSS: One of my voices gave it to me. You know what? I think that one
of my voices is Elvis Presley.
SOCIAL WORKER: What do you plan to do when you're released from the
hospital?
BOSS: Let's see, buy a pair of blue suede shoes, go to a gay bar and
have a drink.
SOCIAL WORKER: Are you a homosexual?
BOSS: If I was, would that make me crazy?
SOCIAL WORKER: There's nothing in your file that indicates you're
homosexual.
BOSS: I doubt there's anything in my file that indicates how I like my
coffee either.
SOCIAL WORKER: It does say in your file that during the evacuation of
Saigon you refused to leave. Why was that?
BOSS: I liked Saigon. I thought it was pretty.
SOCIAL WORKER: Pretty?
BOSS: Yes, Vietnam is actually a very beautiful place. Huge mountains,
tropical forests, thousands of streams and rivers. Who would want to
leave all that?
SOCIAL WORKER: I'm not here to waste my time. Or yours. (gathers her
papers and starts to leave)
BOSS: What do you want me to say? That I lost my mind? That I went a
little crazy? Question, when was the last time you were in a war? I
don't know what they taught you at Harvard, or Yale, or City College
or wherever the hell you got your degree from but, basically, it's
like this - when you're forced to hold yourself together under
extremely stressful circumstances, it screws with your head.
(BILLY runs in hysterical. BOSS jumps up and runs to him. They are
immediately in the jungles of Da Nang. Distant sounds of war can be
heard.)
BOSS: It's okay, Billy!
BILLY: No, it's not fuckin' okay! I killed him, Boss! I killed him!
BOSS: You had to, Billy.
BILLY: Thou shalt not kill! It's in the bible, Boss! It's in the
fuckin' bible!
BOSS: You didn't…
BILLY: No! You don't fuckin' understand! I'm fucked! How could I do
that! Why did you let me do it, Boss? Why did you let me?
BOSS: Billy, listen to me! This is Vietnam! You don't have a fucking
choice, okay?! He would've killed you, Billy! He would have killed
YOU! Don't you get that?!
BILLY: Oh, God! God! Please! Forgive me! (begins to recite The Lord's
Prayer)
BOSS: Listen to me! Listen to me! Billy, you can't lose it. I need you
to keep it together. Listen to me! You're the best soldier I have
here. This is what we're here to do, man. I know, it's fucked up, and
I don't like it either, but we have to do it, Billy. We have to. And
it's okay. God understands.
BILLY: Does he?! (BOSS doesn't answer) He was just a kid, Boss. A
fuckin' kid.
(BOSS puts his arms around BILLY and holds him for a moment.)
BOSS: Billy, listen to me, I'm gonna have Chris take you back to camp.
Take a break, pull yourself together, man.
(BILLY exits. The stage transitions back to the VA Hospital.)
BOSS: Do you have any idea what it's like to see boysBOYS that
you've come to love get blown up in your face? And then you have to
find some way in your brain to justify it. To make it all right. Well,
I did that for two fucking years! And when it was time to leave, when
it was finally over and I could let go, I lost it. Yes, I snapped.
Because that's when it hit me.
SOCIAL WORKER: When what hit you?
BOSS: That all of it had been for nothing. That I'd been holding
myself together all that time. For nothing. That I'd killed people.
For nothing! Have you ever killed anybody?
SOCIAL WORKER: I'm not the issue here. The issue here is what happens
to you.
BOSS: No, the issue here is that all of it was for nothing! Write that
down in my file. You know, I don't care what you do with me. Maybe I
need to just stay here and be crazy for a while. I spent my last night
in Vietnam on the roof of a building shoving people into choppers.
Playing God. Deciding who got to go and who would be left behind.
People were screaming at me. Begging me to get them out of there. The
last person that I loaded into a chopper was my best buddy who'd just
taken a bullet to the spine. When it was my turn to climb on, I turned
around and looked back at Saigon. It was still burning. There was
still a war going on. And you know what? I found comfort in that. It
was what I was used to. It wasn't that I didn't want to leave Saigon.
I didn't fucking know how.
SOCIAL WORKER: If I do decide to release you, will you come for
follow-up counseling once a week? (BOSS doesn't answer) Would you do
that?
BOSS: Is that all it takes to get out of here?
SOCIAL WORKER: You may be a lot of things, but crazy is not one of
them. The school board is hiring custodians. (handing him a piece of
paper) I've already set up an interview for you.
BOSS: You want me to be a janitor?
SOCIAL WORKER: It's a job. You can leave the hospital at the end of
the week. You'll be okay, it'll just take a little adjusting.
BOSS: I've spent my whole life adjusting. I don't want to adjust
anymore.
SOCIAL WORKER: Do you, or do you not, want to get out of here,
Lieutenant?
BOSS: I do.
SOCIAL WORKER: Then adjust. I would think you would be a bit
more…“excited” about being discharged.
BOSS: Well, actually, I was kinda looking forward to a little
electroshock therapy.
SOCIAL WORKER: You want electroshock therapy? Go stick your tongue in
a wall socket. Do you know where to apply for food stamps?
BOSS: Food stamps?
SOCIAL WORKER: They're government-issued coupons that you use like
money to buy food.
BOSS: Do bartenders take them?
SOCIAL WORKER: No, bartenders don't take them.
BOSS: Then I don't need them.
SOCIAL WORKER: (sincerely) Are you going to be okay out there?
BOSS: Truth? (SOCIAL WORKER nods) I have no fucking idea. (after a
moment) The ones that didn't make it? They all wanted me to hold
them while they were dying.
SOCIAL WORKER: You're going to have to learn to hold yourself,
[End of Extract]