SCENE: The interior of a hut (basha) which is being used as a convalescent ward in a temporary British General Hospital somewhere within the South East-Asia Command.

The masking border which comes below proscenium arch is uneven and is painted to look like thatch.

There are three doors. One, D. L. opening on, leads to the outside. When this door is opened we see above it a cook-shed with its own door opening into the shed. The roof of the cook-shed extends to what would be the downstage wall of the hut, thus forming a porch. On the edge of this roof we can see the edging of the thatching. Beyond the porch we see the jungle. There is a low door U. C., opening off into the Nurse's office, a shed attached to the back wall of the hut. On the wall of this office is a bulletin board to which are attached various reports and orders. There is a door U. R., opening off into a shed, which is the lavatory.

There are three windows: One U. L. C., one U. R. C., and one D. R. below the lavatory. Through this window we can see the mud wall of the lavatory. It is covered with a tropical vine. Through the up-stage windows we see the jungle [a painted drop, with clumps of bamboo bushes in the foreground]. The windows have large overlapping bamboo shutters hung on the outside. They are opened or closed by means of a long bamboo pole attached to the inside, C. of the shutter. This pole fits into a niche in outside window-sill, thus supporting the shutter when opened. The bottom of the walls of the hut has a wainscoting of horizontal strips of bamboo. Above this wainscoting is woven bamboo matting, attached to the large poles of bamboo which run from the floor to the roof. The roof of the hut is thatch [painted burlap], and slopes from the front down toward the back. A large bamboo pole runs across the hut from the L. wall to the R. wall over the beds toward their head. From this pole various smaller bamboo poles form braces for the side walls and the roof. From this pole are hung mosquito nettings over each bed. These nettings are attached by tape to a wire ring. The wire rings are attached by wire to the back wall to keep them from swinging too freely. At the back of each wire ring are two loops of tape. When the matting is rolled up these loops are used to support each end of the rolled net.

There are six hospital beds, with their heads against the back wall of the hut, three to the R. of the door to the Nurse's office, and three to the L. There are six side tables, one on the R. of each bed on the R., and one on the L. of each bed on the L. The tables are square and wooden with a shelf in the middle and one on the bottom. There is a plain wooden shallow cabinet with double doors under the window D. R. It has one shelf. U. R., leaning against the R. wall above the door to the lavatory, are two three-fold screens made of wooden frames, covered with red cloth. A bamboo pole leans against the U. L. wall.

The hospital beds are, of course, equipped with mattresses, pillow, sheets and the bright red blankets used in B.G.H.'s. The patients are in the regulation white pajamas. The up-patients are later seen in the regulation hospital blue trousers and jackets.

Hanging C. from the bamboo pole is a blue lantern, which is lighted at rise. This can be lowered to be blown out by its cord, the other end of which is attached to the wall at L. of the door to the Nurse's office.

AT RISE: The hut is in darkness, except for such light as seeps in through the bamboo matting and below the door D. L., and the edges of the shutters. The lantern is lit. Five of the beds are occupied with their mosquito netting tucked in carefully under the mattresses. The unoccupied bed---Lachie's---is neatly made-its netting rolled up and hanging in place. The beds, stage L. to stage R., are : (1) Digger, (2) Tommy, (3) Yank, (4) Lachie, (5) Kiwi, (6) Blossom. [All stage directions are from actor's R. and L.]

The ORDERLY enters D. L., with flashlight. He closes the door.

ORDERLY. Wake up! Wake up! (He crosses R., flashing his light on each bed as he passes. He opens D. R. window, and sun pours in.) Wake up! (He crosses to U. R. window and opens it. Crosses down, and as he gets to foot of beds, pulls out mosquito netting from bottom of BLOSSOM'S and KIWI's beds. He starts to hum "I've got six-pence" as he crosses U. C., lets down lamp, blows it out, and pulls it up again. Turns to YANK's bed and shakes it.) Wake up! Rise and shine! (He shakes bed again.) Yank! Wake up! (There is some slight movement from YANK. ORDERLY pulls net out. Crosses around U. L. of YANK's bed, and pulls net out completely from the back.) Hurry on---get up. (YANK sticks a tousled head from under net---and rubs the back of his neck. YANK is in his early thirties, more wholesome than handsome, with a manner more relaxed than lazy. He suffers a slight speech impediment which he overcomes by snapping his fingers or hitting his fist into his palm. Sits up.)

YANK. Why d-d-d-(He snaps his fingers.) --don't you d-d-d-(He hits bed.)---drop dead?

ORDERLY. Get washed and get your kit together. All patients are going to be evacuated.

YANK. B-b-buster---you're not very funny. (Puts his slippers on, rises, and sleepily starts to roll his net.)

ORDERLY. At least it wakes you blokes up in a hurry. (Crosses U. between TOMMY's and DIGGER's beds. Pulls nets from foot of beds as he goes. Opens window U. L.)

YANK. Try and think up something d-d-different tomorrow. Evacuated. Ha-ha- (Ends in a yawn.) Haw.

ORDERLY. (Shaking first DIGGER's and then TOMMY's bed.) Come on---come on. The hospital's burning down. The monsoons have started. There's an air raid. There's an earthquake. (TOMMY turns over in bed. ORDERLY crosses to washroom U. R., speaking as he goes.) For Gawd's sake---wake up. I'm half an hour late. (Exits U. R.)

(The DIGGER sits up---and appears slowly from under his mosquito net. He blinks sleepily at YANK. DIGGER is an Australian, about thirty-five, although a certain alertness makes him seem younger. He is a man who will have a youthful quality when he is an old man. He is chunky and muscular. He had a good nose at one time. He is the boxing champion of his regiment.)

DIGGER. Ah---to be woke with a kiss and a kind word.

YANK. Or a c-c-cup of coffee.

DIGGER. Gawd, I'm sleepy. I don't think I've ever been woke in my life ready to get up. (Since DIGGER is a lying-patient, YANK crosses U. R. of his bed to roll up his mosquito net for him.)

YANK. (Crossing.) I never can s-s-see in the morning. At home I'm always going in the bathroom and throwing my cigarette b-b-butt in the hamper and flushing my sox down the toilet. I lose more d-d-damn sox. (Looking toward TOMMY's bed.) Was that Tommy s-s-snoring again?

DIGGER. He's got add-anoids.

YANK. Sounded exactly like the m-m-mating call of the hippop-p-potamus. (ORDERLY returns carrying two pans of warm water. He places one on stand L. of DIGGER's bed.)

ORDERLY. You up-patients into the washroom. Come out of it. Come out of it. I'm off duty in ten minutes. I want to get my sleep before it gets hot. (To YANK, who has finished net---as ORDERLY crosses U. R. of DIGGER's bed to put water on bed table for TOMMY.) Yank, get KIWI up.

YANK. (Crossing U. L. Of KIWI's bed.) It's a g-g-great mistake to get well in an army hospital. (ORDERLY leaves pan, and exits U. R. again, YANK crosses U. L. of KIWI's bed.) Wake up, KIWI. The b-birds have been up eating worms for hours. (YANK pulls net back. Helps KIWI sit up. The KIWI is a tall New Zealander well over six feet. His blond hair has been bleached by the sun and is a lighter shade than his tanned skin. His left arm is in a plaster cast held in the air by a reticulated wire support braced against his hip.)

KIWI. (AS YANK starts rolling net.) I wish somebody would do something about Tommy's snoring. (He stretches and his long legs protrude from under the blankets at the end of his bed.)

YANK. D-d-don't look now, but I think somebody's in b-b-bed with you.

KIWI. Either this bed gets smaller or I'm growing again.

YANK. Send your feet to the army laundry---they'll shrink anything. (DIGGER is brushing his teeth. ORDERLY enters with third pan of water---places it on KIWI'S bed table U. R. of his bed. ORDERLY crosses down and pulls out net from foot of BLOSSOM's bed.)

ORDERLY. Get up---get up. I'll put a cobra in with you. (Crossing out D. L.) Sister will be here in a minute and you're supposed to be up. (He exits. YANK crosses down R. of BLOSSOM'S bed.)

YANK. Time to get up, B-B-Blossom. (He hangs on mattress. The mosquito net lifts and the black head of a tremendous Basuto---BLOSSOM---appears. He has large puffed lips and a bullet-shaped cranium. He blinks sleepily.) Up---Blossom! Understand?

BLOSSOM. (Blinks, smiles, and points at himself.) Blos-som!

YANK. Th-th-that's your name. Blossom---we hope. (A lusty snore is now heard from under TOMMY's net. All the men shout. BLOSSOM exits to washroom. At this point he is the only other up-patient. He exits to get into his blues.)

(YANK crosses to R. of his own bed.)

KIWI. Pull his mattress out from under him, Digger.

DIGGER. (Leans over to bed beside him.) Wake up, me chubby love. (He shakes the bed.) Wake up, ya mountain of flesh. (TOMMY lifts his net and looks out. He is short and exceedingly fat. His close-cropped hair sticks straight tip over a beaming red face. He affects a look of gleeful idiocy.)

TOMMY. (Sleepily.) 'As something 'appened?

DIGGER. Yes---ya died. It's Judgment Day. St. Peter's a brigadier, 'so snap your wings to attention.

TOMMY. Somebody snores in 'ere.

YANK. (Steps over his own bed to R. of TOMMY'S bed, starts putting up net.) How can you make so much noise in your sleep without waking yourself up?

TOMMY. (Reaching for bowl of water which he places in front of himself and starts to wash.) Oh, dear, oh, dear. Wot a terrible dream I 'ad. I dreamed I was working. I was killing meself working. I'm that tired I can 'ardly lift a finger. (He lifts a finger and finds the effort exhausting. He looks around and laughs. He has a high, almost girlish giggle which he uses at every comment he makes. DIGGER looks over at him.)

DIGGER. Look at him. I've seen 'em fat but I've never seen a man like that. Aren't ya uncomfortable?

TOMMY. It's only muscles you see. I've just relaxed 'em a bit.

YANK. Relax 'em any more and you'll t-t-trip over 'em.

TOMMY. Me old lady loves every sweet ounce of me. (BLOSSOM enters from washroom U. R. in his blues-sits on his bed. ORDERLY enters D. L., carrying a stack of mugs and a steaming bucket.)

ORDERLY. Yank---pass the mugs around. (YANK crosses down and takes the tin mugs---DIGGER'S, TOMMY'S, KIWI's and BLOSSOM'S---puts one at foot of each bed. Leaves them at beds, and then sits D. L. on his own bed with mug. ORDERLY crosses to BLOSSOM.)

TOMMY. Ah, me tea. (With exaggerated English accent.) Bring mah mah tea, waitah. Do you heah mah!

DIGGER. You're a bloody fool if ever I saw one.

ORDERLY. (TO BLOSSOM.) What do you think this is---a ruddy health resort? Up---patients work. (He puts pail of tea at foot of BLOSSOM's bed and motions him to go to each bed and fill each mug. Then crosses D. L.) On with it-on with it-make haste.

(He exits. BLOSSOM rises and starts.)

DIGGER Gawd, I hope we don't get soy-link sausage.

KIWI. I'll bet pounds to piastres we do.

BLOSSOM. (Pouring tea at KIWI'S bed.) Blos-som. (Crosses to L. of TOMMY.)

TOMMY. 'Ee's smart 'e is. Look 'ow quick 'e catches on. Only took 'im a week to learn one word. (BLOSSOM pours TOMMY'S tea.)

DIGGER. Clever, ain't he? Yank, why don't you teach him two words? Then he could be an officer. (BLOSSOM turns and pours DIGGER'S tea.) Thank ya, Blossom---ya bloody cannibal. (BLOSSOM crosses to pour YANK'S---L. of YANK.)

KIWI. Those Basutos are good fighters. I was with a company in the desert. You know, they let a whole year pass without drawing a cent of their pay?

YANK. (AS BLOSSOM pours tea.) Are they ash-ashamed of it?

KIWI. No-they let it pile up. Then after the war---they'll go back to Basutoland and buy themselves a wife and a herd of oxen.

TOMMY. More likely---an ox and a 'erd of wives. (He laughs gayly at his bon mot.)

DIGGER. (Indulgently.) Oh---ya fat fool.

TOMMY. 'Es jealous of me wit. (BLOSSOM pours his own tea---sets bucket down D. R., and starts rolling his net. ORDERLY enters D. L. with a tray of tin plates. He distributes them to DIGGER, TOMMY, YANK, KIWI and BLOSSOM.)

DIGGER. (To ORDERLY.) This tea tastes like a baby's been boiled in it.

ORDERLY. (Between TOMMY'S and DIGGER'S beds.) Don't complain to me, complain to sister. (Crosses to YANK.)

YANK. I'll write My Congressman-whose name, I think, is Mabel.

(ORDERLY Crosses to KIWI and BLOSSOM.)

DIGGER. (Looking into his plate.) Gawd---soy-link. They do everything with a soy bean but make it taste like food. (ORDERLY Picks up bucket and carries it and tray out D. L. TOMMY sips loudly on his tea.)

YANK. He even s-snores when he eats. (Looks over at KIWI, who has a little difficulty eating with one arm.) Need any help, KIWI?

KIWI. (Shakes his head.) The Medical Officer said he'd chisel me out of this derrick next week.

DIGGER. Ha---you'll be in it a year.

TOMMY. You was bad shot up when you come in 'ere. I'd say two years.

KIWI. You know---a man takes a lot of killing. You shoot an animal and it dies. You shoot a man---and if there's only part of him left---he gets well. He takes a lot of killing.

TOMMY. You're right. 'E takes a lot of bloody bleeding.

DIGGER. You wouldn't know, ya chronic menace---you was only wounded by a sand-fly.

TOMMY. Will someone please tell 'im about me bravery---or must I tell 'im meself?

KIWI. Where were you when you were wounded, Tommy?

TOMMY. Asleep. (He shrieks with laughter.)

DIGGER. Oh, what a hero he is!

TOMMY. Peacefully sleeping I was, and a hot bit of shrapnel entered me tender flesh.

YANK. Where?

TOMMY. Well---I was sleeping on me stomach.

DIGGER. The M.O. must have probed up to his elbows.

TOMMY. I wrote old lady I was wounded leading me regiment into battle.

YANK. (Rises-crosses to put his plate and mug on BLOSSOM's bed. Indicates empty bed as he passes.) Wonder who we'll get in here next? (Puts plates down, crosses U. R. of his own bed and starts getting into his blues, which are in his bed table, over his whites.)

KIWI. Probably a Canadian. The RCAF moved in up the road, sister said.

DIGGER. We haven't had a Yorkshireman yet?

KIWI. Who wants to bet? I'll bet anyone pounds to piastres we get an Irishman. Any bets?

TOMMY. We 'aven't 'ad a Scot in 'ere for a long time.

YANK. God, I hope we don't get a Scot.

DIGGER. Don't ya get along with Scots?

YANK. I do not. And I d-d-don't know anyone who d-d-does. Except another Scot.

KIWI. Sister's a Scot.

YANK. Oh, n-no she isn't.

DIGGER. She's bloody fine, whatever she is. (DIGGER finishes eating---puts fork away in bed table-lights a cigarette.)

TOMMY. Ah---bless 'er little 'eart. She's lovely, she is. (TOMMY finishes and puts fork away-takes out cigarette.)

KIWI. She told me she used to live in Scotland. (Puts his fork away, gets fly-swatter.)

YANK, I know all about it. She had to live there, while she was teaching school. And after only one year of trying to teach a bunch of young Scots---she had a nervous breakdown.

DIGGER. What have ya got against the Scots?

YANK. I'm Scottish myself. Scot d-d-descent.

TOMMY. 'E 'ates 'imself. (Lights cigarette.)

YANK. I hate all Scots. You should have known my G-g-grandfather Angus. There were only two infallible beings to his way of thinking: Angus McDonald and God. Sometimes God was wrong but never Grandfather Angus. (Picks up toothbrush and mug and towel off bed table, BLOSSOM rises and collects the mugs and plates, crossing L.)

KIWI. Did you have to live with him?

YANK. When my folks died he took over the supervision of my soul.

TOMMY. 'E sounds stern.

YANK. Do you know what I had to recite every time I started to lose my temper?

KIWI. Sure--the multiplication tables. (He swats a fly. BLOSSOM has crossed to door D. L., hut as YANK starts this speech, he stops and listens, fascinated.)

YANK. I had to recite the books of the Bible. I can still do it: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, D-d-d-deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges, Ruth, Samuel, Kings, Chronicles, Ezra, N-n-nehemiah, Esther, Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Solomon, Isaiah, J-j-jeremiah, Lamentations, Ezekiel, Daniel, Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, M-m-micah, N-n-nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, and M-m-malachi---Goddamit! (YANK crosses U. R. to washroom door. BLOSSOM exits D. L.)

TOMMY. 'E must 'ave been a fearful man, your Grandfather.

YANK. (Dropping down R.) And if you tried to argue with him -you know what he'd do?

DIGGER. Flay your hide?

YANK. He'd take his damned bagpipe out and sit playing it. God how I learned to hate a bagpipe. No wonder the Scots always march when they play them. They're trying to get away from the sound. (He exits into washroom. BLOSSOM enters D. L.---holds door open, standing at attention. SISTER MARGARET enters. She is about twenty-one. She wears two "Pips" on each shoulder of her neat white uniform. She has an easy, assured manner with the men. Her eyes are dark and expressive---giving an impression of inner amusement.)

MARGARET. (Crossing to her office.) Thank you, Blossom. (To boys.) Good morning, good morning, good morning.

BOYS. Good morning, Sister.

MARGARET. How's everyone this morning?

DIGGER. Wizard.

TOMMY. Fine. (Ad Lib.)

KIWI. Top-o.

(MARGARET exits U. C.)

YANK. (Stepping out from washroom-waving his toothbrush.) If it were h-h-humanly possible for me to get rid of my Scottish blood---I'd d-d-donate it all to the Red Cross.

KIWI. You're going to run your blood pressure up---if you don't have a care. (MARGARET enters, carrying tray with thermometers, charts, and watch. She has taken off her cape.)

MARGARET. And what's this about the Scots?

TOMMY. 'E don't like 'em.

MARGARET. Then you don't understand them. They say that God broke the mold after he made the Scot.

YANK. I'm s-s-sure He did-right over the Scot's head. (He exits into washroom. MARGARET puts tray down on LACHIE'S bed, and starts tearing YANK'S bed apart. Throws pillow to Tommy, who takes the cover off. BLOSSOM crosses to R. foot of his bed and stands at attention.)

DIGGER. Ah---Sister---ya make the morning lovely.

TOMMY. We was just saying-you're our favorite sister, Sister.

MARGARET. (Rips sheets from bed and throws them on floor between YANK's and TOMMY's bed.) I wish I could say the same about you. As patients, you're the most untidy and disrespectful lot it's ever been my misfortune to get.

DIGGER Ya wound me, Sister.

KIWI. You can't mean us.

MARGARET. I certainly do. And I'll be delighted to see the last of you. (She puts blanket back over bed.)

TOMMY. You need some leave, Sister. The matron works you too 'ard.

MARGARET. (Takes tray and crosses to L. of BLOSSOM.) The poor matron has nothing to do with it. It's you-it's a good thing I once taught in a kindergarten or I couldn't cope with you. (MARGARET takes a thermometer out of glass and stops by BLOSSOM where he has remained standing rigidly at attention. YANK enters from washroom and crosses R. Of BLOSSOM.) Open your mouth.

(BLOSSOM looks at her questioningly.) Mouth! (She opens her mouth to demonstrate.)

YANK. (Who just gets to BLOSSOM's R. as MARGARET has her mouth wide open-pointing at it with thermometer.) What b-b-beautiful tonsils you have, Sister.

MARGARET. Go stand beside your bed and stop acting like an American. (Puts thermometer into BLOSSOM's mouth. Takes his pulse.)

YANK. (Crossing to foot of his bed, R., and standing at attention, after putting toilet articles on bed.) R-r-right, L-l-leff-tenant. In America a sister's a nun instead of a nurse.

MARGARET. In England a nurse nurses babies. (Marks her chart and crosses U. L. of KIWI.) How are you this morning, KIWI? Did you sleep well?

KIWI. Like a baby, Sister.

MARGARET. And the arm?

KIWI. All right.

MARGARET. Move the shoulder. (She moves his shoulder gently.) Does it hurt? (He doesn't answer.) It does, doesn't it? It's much better though. (She puts thermometer into his mouth.) Can't you keep your blankets tucked under? (She tucks blanket in.) And do something about your long legs. (She moves back and takes his hand to count his pulse.) No one would ever suspect that any of you had army training at all.

TOMMY. (Calling.) Oh---Sister.

MARGARET. Be still---I'm counting. (She drops KIWI'S wrist and glances at TOMMY, writes on chart.) What do you want?

TOMMY. I'm not comfortable.

MARGARET. This is a British Military Hospital---you're not supposed to be comfortable.

TOMMY. But I'm a dying man. Don't you run your wards for dying men?

MARGARET. (Takes thermometer out---marks chart as she crosses to L. of YANK.) You know perfectly well that we run the wards so Colonels can inspect them---so be still. (She puts thermometer in YANK's mouth.)

DIGGER. Ah---what would Old Cobwebs say if he heard such talk?

MARGARET. (Takes pulse.) You will please show a little more respect for our superior officer. You will not refer to Cobwebs . . . to the Colonel as Old Cobwebs. (She marks down YANK's pulse, leaving the thermometer in his mouth.) Who's going to want clean pajamas? If the ones you have aren't too dirty, keep them another day. I haven't enough to go around this morning.

KIWI. I spilled tea on mine, Sister.

DIGGER. Gawd, don't tell her that---she'll boil 'em to recover it.

MARGARET. You're much too cheeky---the lot of you. (She takes thermometer from YANK. Marks chart.) How did you sleep, Yank?

YANK. D-d-dreaming of you, Sister.

MARGARET. Rubbish. Your pulse is higher this morning.

YANK. When you press my wrist, Sister, my p-pulse p-p-pants.

MARGARET. You don't stutter so much as you used to.

YANK. I haven't so much to t-t-talk about.

MARGARET. You're better. But the M.O. is putting you on plasmaquinn. He wants to get all that malaria out of your system. (Crosses U. L. Of DIGGER.) Will you get the pajamas out of my cabinet and see who needs them? I think there are three pairs.

YANK. Yes'm. (He crosses to cabinet D. R.---gets three pairs of pajamas.)

MARGARET. (Stands with thermometer poised before DIGGER's face.) Do you want clean pajamas?

DIGGER. I can get along---mine are still white.

MARGARET. (Puts thermometer into his mouth and takes his hand.) Did you sleep well? (He nods and puts his cheek against her hand.)

YANK. (Returning C. with clean pajamas.) Who wants pajamas?

KIWI. Me.

YANK. On you-they're r-r-rompers. (Throws KIWI a pair.)

TOMMY. Me.

YANK. No wonder we never have pajamas. You split them all. (Throws pair to TOMMY and takes third pair hack to cabinet. KIWI and TOMMY put clean pajamas in their bed tables.)

MARGARET. (She takes thermometer from DIGGER.) How is your back? (Marks chart.)

DIGGER. A bit of a rub would feel mighty good.

TOMMY. 'E only wants to be rubbed because I gets rubbed---jealous of me every move. (YANK crosses to R. of his bed, picking up towel and mug.)

MARGARET. (Crosses to L. Of TOMMY.) I'll give you both a massage as soon as I've finished this. (Standing beside TOMMY.) You look a bit haggard. Did your hip bother you last night?

TOMMY. I 'ad a terrible night, I did, Sister. Not a wink of sleep.

YANK. (Putting towel and mug away.) No-n-nor anybody else.

(He sits on his bed.)

TOMMY. I had nightmares I was working meself to death---and there on a fence sat me wife, laughing 'erself silly. (He giggles. MARGARET puts thermometer in his mouth, stopping him.)

MARGARET. That was your conscience bothering you. (She takes his pulse.) How did you manage to avoid work in civy street?

TOMMY. (Takes thermometer out.) Well---I'm a sort of waiter by profession. Me wife's father owns a pub---and I'm waiting for 'im to kick off.

MARGARET. Put that thermometer back. (TOMMY does.)

DIGGER. Mangle him, Sister.

MARGARET. You'll work here as soon as you're an up-patient.

DIGGER, He's married! Gawd---it's a wonderful world.

KIWI. Any kids?

TOMMY. (Takes thermometer out and gives it to MARGARET.) And I can't understand it. All me family 'as kids until they're past sixty. Do you know, I 'ad an aunt two years old---and an uncle four. (He giggles.) I used to change me auntie's diapers!

(MARGARET marks chart. Still looking at it, she crosses down.)

MARGARET. Let me see---gracious! I forgot the Basuto. (She crosses C. Sees no thermometer in BLOSSOM's mouth. Stops dead.) Good Lord---he swallowed the thermometer! (All sit up and look at BLOSSOM. YANK rises and drops down. MARGARET crosses to Blossom---taps him on shoulder, and points to her mouth, indicating thermometer.)

BLOSSOM. (Takes entire thermometer out of his mouth and hands it to MARGARET. He grins.) Blos-som.

MARGARET. (Shaking her finger at him.) Don't you do that again. We can't afford to lose thermometers. (Takes thermometer---looks at it, marks chart.) Oh, I wish someone could talk to this brute. (She hands tray to YANK.) Yank, put these in my office, will you? YANK. (Taking them.) Yes'm. (He exits U. C.)

MARGARET. (Crossing R. of BLOSSOM'S bed.) Now, let's see if we can't get this ward looking less like a slit trench, Blossom. (She motions for BLOSSOM to line up beds. He straightens KIWI's and YANK'S.)

DIGGER. Ah---yes, line the beds up. Ya've no idea how it improves the patient's condition.

MARGARET. It improves the Colonel's disposition, and that's more important. (BLOSSOM is at YANK'S bed L.)

YANK. (Rushes in D. S. C.---breathless---excited. He tries to speak.) toward door.) Ca-ca-ca-ca-ca . . .

MARGARET. (Crossing to YANK.) What is it, Yank?

YANK. (Crosses D. L.---opens and shuts door.) Ca-ca-ca-ca-ca . . .

DIGGER. A tiger's chasing him.

YANK. (Crosses back C., still trying to speak and still gesturing toward door.) Ca-ca-ca-ca-ca . . .

MARGARET. Now take your time. (She slaps him on cheek.)

YANK. Thank you. (He points again to door L.) Cobwebs,

MARGARET. (Crossing D. L.) Don't be silly. He can't inspect this early.

YANK. I l-l-looked out the window and saw him coming.

MARGARET. I'm sure you were mistaken. (Opens door-looks out -shuts door and whirls quickly.) Hurry---put everything in order. Everybody hide your kit. (Picks up pillow from TOMMY's bed and puts it on YANK's bed. BLOSSOM crosses, fixes his bed---then stands at attention L. foot of bed.)

YANK. (Crosses U. R. of his bed-straightening it.) I t-t-told you so.

MARGARET. (Gathering up the dirty sheets.) Does anyone see cobwebs on the wall? (There is concentrated activity. MARGARET stuffs sheets under TOMMY's blanket.) Here---hide these under the covers with you!

TOMMY. (Trying to spread the mound on his stomach.) 'E'll think I'm bloated.

DIGGER. (Pointing to wall U. L. of door.) There's a cobweb up there.

MARGARET. (Stops for a second from fixing L. of YANK's bed.) Get it down, Yank---quickly.

YANK. (Crosses U. L., grabs bamboo pole, brushes cobweb away top of L. wall.) No self-respecting spider would come into a BGH.

TOMMY. Oh---?ow the Colonel 'ates cobwebs.

MARGARET. That's good enough. Stand by your beds---quickly. (She crosses D. L. C., where she stands at attention, facing upstage. YANK crosses back R. of his bed---at foot of it---at attention. BLOSSOM stands at L. foot of his bed at attention, KIWI, DIGGER and TOMMY lie down at attention. The ward has been in a whirlwind---but it is now in perfect order as the COLONEL enters. He is tall---tired---and stooped. He is not particularly formidable looking. He has a nervous habit of twisting his nose. He is hatless. He wears a bush-jacket with his stethoscope hanging from his neck. He surveys the ward as he crosses R. C.) Good morning, sir. (MARGARET closes door.)

COLONEL. Good morning, Sister. (He crosses R., then turns to the men.) Carry on---sit on your beds. (BLOSSOM and YANK sit at foot of beds. BLOSSOM on L. corner, YANK on R. Others sit up in their beds.)

MARGARET. (Crosses to L. Of COLONEL.) We didn't expect a visit this early, sir.

COLONEL. (Looks about.) You keep a very orderly ward.

MARGARET. Thank you, sir.

COLONEL. I came over to have a talk with your patients. (He looks at them---then back to MARGARET,) I understand that they're exceedingly---congenial.

MARGARET. They're the most tidy, respectful, pleasant group of men it's ever been my fortune to get, sir.

COLONEL. Splendid. Now---the matron tells me you've a couple of empty beds.

MARGARET. (Indicating bed.) Yes---we have, sir. One.

COLONEL. I'm transferring a patient of my own to your ward this morning.

MARGARET. Yes, sir. Surgical?

COLONEL. Yes. I thought it might be advisable to come over myself to explain. It's a case that calls for the cooperation of the whole ward. (Crosses below MARGARET D. L. C. She steps U. between KIWI's and LACHIE's beds. He turns to the men.) May I have everyone's attention for a moment? (He hesitates, pulling nervously at his nose.) I came here this morning to enlist your help.

YANK. (When no one answers.) What sort of help, sir?

COLONEL. (Looks at him-piercingly.) You're the American, aren't you?

YANK. (Rises and faces front.) Yes, sir---American Field Service---Ambulance driver attached to the British.

COLONEL. (Crosses to L. of YANK's bed.) I've seen you somewhere before.

YANK. When you inspected the ward last week, Sir.

COLONEL. Before that. I associate it with something unpleasant.

YANK. I'd hoped you'd f-f-forgotten, sir. It seems I crowded your staff car off the road one day.

COLONEL. It seems? I know damned well you did. My dear boy--- you could have killed me.

YANK. (Smiling at him.) B-but I didn't.

COLONEL. Hmm. Sit down. (YANK sits.) Well---I'll give you a chance to make amends.

YANK. Thank you, sir.

COLONEL. (Crosses U. C.---turns to the rest of them.) I'm putting a patient of mine in here with you. I did an emergency operation on this man. Took a bit of shrapnel out of him---had to remove his kidney. He's about recovered. I think you can help him.

YANK. May I ask how, sir?

COLONEL. By keeping him---contented. (He pulls at his nose again.) He's anxious to get back to his regiment---but I can't discharge him from the hospital. It's out of the question.

MARGARET. Did you say, sir, that the patient had recovered from his operation?

COLONEL. Quite. In a few days he'll be fully recovered---from the operation. This man has one kidney left. Ordinarily that would carry him through life. We've discovered, unfortunately, that it's defective. It will do the work of two-for a time---a limited time.

YANK. What happens then, sir?

COLONEL. The kidney collapses---ceases to function. He begins to poison himself---uremic poisoning. And that's the inevitable end.

MARGARET. Does the patient know this, sir?

COLONEL. I decided against telling him. He has no family---no ties. Worry won't help him. So while he's well and waiting---I'm placing him in here because---well---it seems to me that a man should have friends around him when he dies.

KIWI. How long has this man got, sir?

COLONEL. At the most-six weeks.

TOMMY. Nothing can 'elp him, sir?

COLONEL. The only help anyone can give him now will come from you.

YANK. And he thinks he's well, sir?

COLONEL. In a sense---he is. But it would be criminal to release him just to collapse up forward. Do what you can to keep him contented---and happy.

YANK. Yes, Sir.

DIGGER, We'll do our best, sir.

TOMMY. 'E won't learn nothing from us, Sir.

KIWI. And we'll jolly him along.

MARGARET. These are good men---you can rely on them, Colonel.

COLONEL. Thank you. Damned unfortunate. Carry on. (Crosses D. L. MARGARET follows him.) He's in C-16 by himself. I've instructed your orderly to bring him over here as soon as he's ready. (Opens door, and turns to her.) He can sit up or not---as he pleases.

MARGARET. We'll take good care of him, sir.

COLONEL. (Turns to men.) Good morning. (To MARGARET.) We'll omit inspection. Thank you, Sister. (Turns and exits.) Good morning.

MARGARET. (Closes door---turns---crosses to cabinet D. R.) Oh, dear, we've work to do. Yank, while I look after Tommy and Digger, will you give KIWI his bath?

YANK. (Rises-crosses U. R. to screens---tapping BLOSSOM's shoulder as he passes him. As a signal to help him with screens.) I'm going to make somebody a g-g-good wife. (MARGARET takes rubbing alcohol from cabinet and crosses U. R. of TOMMY.)

KIWI. Yank, would you want to know it-if you were going to die?

YANK. I am going to d-d-die. Some d-d-day. And I'd prefer to let God s-s-surprise me. (He puts L. screen around KIWI's bed. BLOSSOM Puts R. screen around KIWI'S bed-then crosses to C. watching MARGARET rub TOMMY. YANK exits behind screens.)

DIGGER. Now, why can't a bloke live without a kidney? (He indicates TOMMY.) He gets along all right without a brain.

MARGARET. Turn over and get your backsides rubbed.

TOMMY. (Raises his pajama tops. Puts towel on his lap. He turns over facing DIGGER, while MARGARET administers mild physiotherapy. BLOSSOM stands-watching.) 'Oo is 'e, Sister?

MARGARET. (Rubbing.) Who is who?

TOMMY. The bloke what's going to kick in?

MARGARET. I don't know.

TOMMY. And 'e 'asn't a chance?

MARGARET. You heard the Colonel.

TOMMY. It's a shocker.

MARGARET. It's always a shocker.

TOMMY. Blimey---we'll just get to know 'im. About six weeks, 'e said. (He is silent a moment. MARGARET gets more alcohol.) Do you ever get used to it, Sister? You can't let yourself like 'em, can you?

MARGARET. Don't talk like a child.

TOMMY. But what are the wounded if they're not children? Would you be rubbing the backside of a grown man?

MARGARET. (She slaps his back.) Don't be so saucy. (TOMMY sits up facing front. MARGARET reaches for towel, and dries Tommy's back.)

DIGGER. (Looking over at TOMMY'S backside.) Gawd---what a tub of butter. How can a man get so fat on bully beef!

TOMMY. It's me marvelous glands. I was re-graded twice since I was made cook. Both times on me card---I looked-it says---"obese."

DIGGER. It says what, ya fool?

TOMMY. Obese. I don't know what it means. (giggles.)

DIGGER. Gawd---you are ignorant. Sister, what does obese mean?

MARGARET. Fat.

DIGGER. How do you be that? Being fat ain't good enough for him. He has to obese.) You're plain fat!

TOMMY. In the future, you'll kindly refer to me by me proper disease.

MARGARET. (giving him a final slap.) That's enough. Now dump out that laundry---it'll took less like a nest. (He kicks the sheets out---R., which were hidden beneath his blanket when COLONEL entered. She crosses to R. Of DIGGER. He lies with head on pillow at foot of bed-facing audience.) Roll over and lift your shirt, Digger.

TOMMY. (While DIGGER is getting ready to be rubbed.) I sent me old lady a photo---she writes me " If you come back any fatter---don't come back." And me giving me blood, sweat and tears and two thirds of me pay. (He cackles.)

DIGGER. Aw---go to sleep. (TOMMY lies down, BLOSSOM takes dirty sheets and exits into office U. C.)

MARGARET. (Begins to rub his spine gently.) All right?

DIGGER. Wizard! (He sighs contentedly. After a moment he speaks again.) How do we treat this bloke, Sister?

MARGARET. The new patient? Like a human being.

DIGGER. Ah---I can handle men. I should have been a priest. My Ma wanted me to be a priest.

MARGARET. Then why did you go in for boxing)

DIGGER. Gawd knows. The times I've had the hell beat out of me when I could have been drinking sacramental wine.

MARGARET. You are in the Paratroops, aren't you, Digger?

DIGGER. Right.

MARGARET. Have you made many jumps?

DIGGER. Twelve. I think I'll just skip the next one.

TOMMY. (Raises himself to sitting position.) If your parachute don't open do you get a new one? (Roars with laughter and lies back.)

DIGGER. Why don't you read some new joke books?

MARGARET. But they always open, don't they?

DIGGER. Sometimes the silk gets damp and sticks together. I've been lucky. But I've seen them that ain't.

(MARGARET gets towel. BLOSSOM enters and crosses D. S. C., stands watching again.)

MARGARET. Can't you transfer to a different unit?

DIGGER. Ah---there's the extra pay for paratroops. And I've got a wife.

MARGARET. (Using towel on DIGGER.) And how does she feel about silk that sticks together?

DIGGER. Oh, she says "be careful." But she'd say that no matter what I was in.

MARGARET. (Putting towel away.) Then be careful. It's a dreadful business. (She puts cap on alcohol bottle.)

DIGGER. And I've 'ad it. (YANK folds R. screen and puts it away U. R.)

MARGARET. (Looks tit BLOSSOM standing c.) Oh, dear, I do wish the M.O. would decide what to do about the Basuto.

TOMMY. (Sits up.) Is 'e really just 'omesick, Sister?

MARGARET. That's the only blessed thing wrong with him. He's had a fever for two months now---and he'll probably die unless he's sent back to his tribe.

BLOSSOM. (Realizes she is talking about him-points to himself.) Blos-som.

MARGARET. (Crosses to BLOSSOM---hands him bottle---points to cabinet so he will understand.) Go sit on your bed, Blossom. String your necklace. (She indicates necklace. YANK is now putting L. screen away.) I'll see if there are more beads for you. (She exits U. C. BLOSSOM puts bottle in cabinet D. R.---goes to his bed table and takes out box top with beads in it. Sits L. foot of bed, and starts stringing them.)

DIGGER. (Sitting up.) Homesick! Why do you suppose those jokers ever join up anyhow? (He reaches, for fly-swatter in B. T.)

KIWI. Oh, their Chief joins---and they follow. His whole tribe joined. And now he wants to go home. (YANK crosses U. R. of KIWI to get washbowl.)

DIGGER Him and me both. (Swats his bed with fly-swatter.) Die --–ya spawn of Satan.

YANK. I think they must t-t-trap 'em outside and let them loose in here.

DIGGER. Keep your flies over on your own bed. (He throws fly over on TOMMY'S bed, supposedly hitting him in face.)

TOMMY, (Sits up---finds fly---studies it.) I recognize this as one of yours. 'E 'as a beady look. (Nicks fly back at DIGGER.)

DIGGER. (Brushing it off.) Don't shove any of your dirty flies over here! (He reaches over and swats TOMMY On the knee.)

TOMMY. (Looks at DIGGER-indignant. Then gets his fly-swatter out from B.T., and---while DIGGER is facing front, hits him. This is obviously a daily routine. TOMMY, feeling he has finished things off, settles back. DIGGER swats him again---and faces front TOMMY gives him another whang---and DIGGER hits back immediately-- stays facing TOMMY. TOMMY pauses a second and then swats DIGGER on the side of the face. DIGGER hits TOMMY on his face.) 'Elp! Sister! 'Es 'itting me again. (DIGGER and TOMMY start swatting for fair, and DIGGER drives TOMMY over to YANK's bed.)

YANK. You spread g-g-germs that way.

DIGGER. spread him all over the ward.

KIWI. Sister'll come in here and give us all hell.

(MARGARET enters from office. Drops down C. TOMMY and DIGGER spring back to their beds, get under covers and settle down as though nothing had happened.)

MARGARET. (Is carrying beads for BLOSSOM and clean sheets and pillow case. She puts sheets on YANK's bed and crosses to BLOSSOM with beads.) If I catch you fighting with swatters again---I'll collect them and let the flies eat you. (Crosses U. C.)

TOMMY. 'Oo, me, Sister?

MARGARET. Get your needlework out and try doing something constructive for a change. All of you. (She exits U. C. YANK exits U.R. with KIWI's basin. Re- -enters immediately and puts KIWI'S back rest up for him. Then he crosses R. of his own bed and helps MARGARET. Meanwhile, DIGGER takes out his knitting, which is pink and blue. TOMMY takes out embroidery---a doily with blue flowers. MARGARET enters carrying a stand which holds KIWI'S needlework. She places it on KIWI'S knees, and crosses L. of YANK'S bed. Pulls down blanket, spreads the sheets, and puts clean pillow case on pillow. Note: two clean sheets have been folded together to open and spread as one.)

TOMMY. (Working on his hoop.) Sister, haven't you got any yellow thread yet? I've made all me buttercups blue.

MARGARET. (Making YANK's bed.) You'll have to use what colors we have left. (Looks at TOMMY's handiwork.) That looks all right. (Back to bed.) And think how pleased your wife will be to get a set of doilies you made yourself.

TOMMY. (giggles.) She won't know what to do with them. She'll blow 'er ruddy nose on 'em.

MARGARET. Then why don't you make her a tea-cosy? She can't blow her nose on that. (glances over at DIGGER who is knitting industriously.) Is that for your wife, Digger?

DIGGER. My kid. If I knew which it was going to be---I could decide on the color.

YANK. (Straightening up from making bed.) Are you having a b-b-baby?

TOMMY. I knew weeks ago. Ah---we must be very tender with Digger.

YANK. (Pointing at DIGGER.) But---you've been away three years---how could you p-p-possibly--

DIGGER, (Firmly.) On my way back from England, I was married in Cape Town.

YANK. Oh.

TOMMY. That's a dirty "oh." 'Es a poor type, the Yank.

KIWI. (Puts frame on floor and gets up on knees.) How about a bet on it? I'll bet rubles to rupees it's a boy.

DIGGER. No---I won't bet on that. (YANK, who has finished his side , crosses U. L. of his bed and gets crocheting out of bed table. MARGARET crosses R. of his bed to put the finishing touches to his bed-making.)

KIWI. Well---pounds or piastres says it's a girl.

DIGGER. Save your dough. I don't want to bet on my kid.

KIWI. (Sitting down again and taking his needlework up.) I can't get a bet on anything around here!

MARGARET. Yank, why don't you turn whatever it is you're making into something for Digger's baby?

DIGGER. Aw---don't bother. (YANK crosses down with crocheting and sits L. foot of bed.)

TOMMY. 'E'd love a needle-point diaper. (He giggles gaily. At this point ORDERLY enters D. L. and crosses to L. C.)

ORDERLY. (To MARGARET.) The O.C. said I was to bring this patient in here.

MARGARET. (Dropping down c.) Oh, yes, the Colonel told me. Did you bring his kit?

ORDERLY. (Looking off-stage.) He's carrying it himself. He wouldn't let me touch it. (LACHIE enters D. L., stands at door. He is carrying his kit on his shoulder and his bagpipes in a green bag in his hand. He has on a bathrobe and convalescent blues over his whites. He is a slight young man of about twenty. He seems smaller than a soldier should look. His rebellious hair inclines in all directions. He has blue eyes that are as metallic and sharp as rapiers. His dark good looks are somewhat marred by the unrelenting jut of his jaw. He evinces no interest in his surroundings.)

MARGARET. Oh, he can't keep that kit in here.

ORDERLY. He says the Colonel says he can.

MARGARET. Oh, all right. (She crosses R. of LACHIE'S bed.) You may have this bed. (LACHIE crosses U. L. of bed, puts green bag near pillow and duffle-bag below it.)

ORDERLY. (Crossing to MARGARET.) Here's his report. (Hands it to her, then exits D. L. LACHIE comes down to foot of his bed, sits, facing front.)

MARGARET. (Taking report.) Thank you. (TO LACHIE.) I'm Sister Margaret. I don't believe the Colonel told me your name. (Silence from LACHIE---so she looks at the report.) "Sergeant Lachlen McLachlen." Are you a Scot?

LACHIE. (No one could mistake the Scottish burr when he speaks.) I'd hardly be gaen the name of a Scot if I were nae a Scot ma'self.

(YANK looks over apprehensively.)

MARGARET. Oh, I don't know. Quite a few parents give their children Scottish names---because they like them.

LACHIE. It fools nae one. Parading under false pretenses. (LACHIE faces front again-having finished with her.)

MARGARET. (laughs.) Oh, I doubt if it's a deliberate plot against the Scots. (Crosses L. of him.) Now, the Colonel said you could sit up if you wanted to---or get into bed and rest. Just as you like.

LACHIE. I'll sit and think a bit.

MARGARET. Is there anything I can do for you?

LACHIE. (Turns to her.) I dinna like to hae things done fur me.

MARGARET. Don't you? I love to have things done for me.

LACHIE. Aye---ye may. Not I. (Turns front again.)

MARGARET. Well, sing out if you need anything. I'll take your reports into the office and glance at them. (She exits U. C. LACHIE sits unperturbed by the silence she leaves in her wake. The MEN sit industriously sewing. YANK hesitates a minute---then takes out a package of cigarettes and offers one to LACHIE.)

YANK. Have one?

LACHIE. (glances to see what is being offered---then turns front.) I've ma' own.

YANK. These aren't issue. They're some I got from home.

LACHIE. I dinna like wot I'm nae used tae.

YANK. You n-n-never know until you try.

LACHIE. I dinna accept presents.

YANK. Why not?

LACHIE. (Turning to him-firmly.) I've nae wish tae poot ma'self in a mon's debt.

YANK. A cigarette isn't going to put you d-d-deep in d-d-debt. (Offers cigarette again.)

LACHIE. (Turning front.) I'll smoke ma' own. (He takes a cigarette out from breast pocket and strikes a match. The BOYS Put their needlework down. YANK puts his cigarettes away.)

DIGGER. Hey-Jock. (LACHIE stops with his match halfway to cigarette.)

YANK. (gestures to LACHIE.) He's talking to y-y-you.

LACHIE. If you're addressing me, ma' name is nae Jock. (Lights his cigarette.)

DIGGER. All Scots are Jock to me.

TOMMY. (Helpfully.) Like all Aussies is Diggers and New Zealanders is KIWI's and an Englishman like me is a TOMMY. Him ---- (He indicates YANK.) 'E's a Yank.

YANK. (TO TOMMY.) I'm no d-d-damned Yank. I come from Georgia.

LACHIE. If you must address me, ye'll use ma' proper name.

DIGGER. . I heard Sister read something but I didn't catch it. What is it?

YANK. Lachlen---something.

DIGGER ---- All right---" Lachie." Is that okay?

LACHIE. (Turning to DIGGER.) And wot did ye want?

DIGGER. Nothing---thought ya might feel like talking.

LACHIE. Aboot such as?

DIGGER. Nothing---just gab.

LACHIE. I place little value on talking of naught. (Turns front.)

YANK. You're a Scot, all right. (gives an unconvincing laugh. Then he swings his legs over bed so he is facing LACHIE, and tries again.) What regiment are you with, Lachie?

LACHIE. Why do ye ask?

YANK. I was j-just curious. I thought I might know somebody in your regiment.

LACHIE. (Turns to him.) Are ye a Scot?

YANK. My G-g-grandfather was.

LACHIE. I think it unlikely ye'd find yur Grandfather in ma' regiment. (Turns front.)

YANK. (Begins to lose his temper.) I k-k-know where my Grandfather is---he's in the family plot where he belongs. But I happen to drive an ambulance and I get to n-n-know lots of regiments. I thought we might have friends in common.

LACHIE. Most unlikely. I dinna make friends freely.

YANK. (Lying back on his bed.) You d-d-don't make friends---period. (LACHIE puffs at his cigarette. Then he puts it out on his shoe. He makes sure it is out, then puts stub in his pocket. Rises, crosses U. R. of his bed, opens his duffle-bag, and takes out towel in which are wrapped his shaving things and toothbrush. He puts these in his bed table. YANK takes a bar of chocolate out of his bed table. After a moment, KIWI tosses a book over On LACHIE'S bed.)

KIWI. Want something to read?

LACHIE. (Picks up book and drops it on KIWI'S bed.) I place nae value on books.

YANK. Don't you like to get away from yourself?

LACHIE. I've nae quarrel wi' ma'self. Buuks are a waste of a thinking mon's time.

YANK. I see. You're a thinking man.

LACHIE. Aye. (He lays duffle-bay across bed in front of pillow, which he uses as a back rest.)

YANK. Maybe we could interest you in the Bible?

LACHIE. I doot it.

YANK. It's got some damn good poetry in it.

LACHIE. I poot nae value on poetry---sacred or otherwise.

YANK. L-l-look--- (He rises and stands L. of LACHIE'S bed.) We're a nice friendly bunch in here. If you don't like books or stories---it's all right with us.

LACHIE. (He sits in the middle of the bed, back against duffle-bag, crosses his arms.) It wuid hae tae be.

YANK. What I'm t-t-trying to say is-live and let live. (He holds out a bar of candy.) Here.

LACHIE. (glancing at it.) And may I be sae bould as tae ask wot ye're thrusting at ma' person?

YANK. It's a bar of chocolate. Don't you want it?

LACHIE. (To YANK.) Is it nae guid?

YANK. Of course, it's g-g-good. It's damned g-g-good. What do you think I'm giving it to you for?

LACHIE. Why are ye?

YANK. Because I want it but I thought you might want it more. Is that an insult?

LACHIE. (Turns front.) It's nae consistent.

YANK. (Turns to boys at L., lies down on his bed, facing L.) G-g-grandfather Angus r-r-rides: again!

KIWI. (Is silent for a moment-then speaks.) Ever been to New Zealand, Lachie?

LACHIE. (Not interested.) I've done ma' share of travelling, but I leave the heathen lands tae the missionaries.

KIWI. New Zealand's no heathen land---I come from there.

LACHIE. (Looks at KIWI---then faces front as he speaks.) I dinna consider that a guid argument.

TOMMY. (With great enjoyment.) 'Es got you there, KIWI.

KIWI. It might have been heathen once---but that was a long time ago. It's modern and up-to-date.

LACHIE. I'll no deny ye yur opinion---wrong as it is.

KIWI. We rule ourselves---that's more than Scotland does.

LACHIE. (Turns to him.) Ye're neighbors tae the Fiji Islanders, are ye nawt?

KIWI. I don't see what that's got to do with it.

LACHIE. Ye wuidn't. I believe the Fijis are cannibals, are they nawt?

TOMMY. Ah---you're right, Lachie, me lad. Eats each other they do, from tip to toe.

KIWI. Well, I don't know any Fijis.

LACHIE. May I be sae bould as tae point out that while we had the great misfortune to get Englishmen fur neighbors---they're yit tae boil each other in pots---at least in public.

TOMMY. (Bolts up in bed.) I takes umbrage at that, I do. If I remembers me 'istory, it was the Scots used to raid our borders and steal our cattle, they did. Cattle thieves they was.

LACHIE. Aye---and but for the purr stock of English cattle, Scotland wuid be a richer country taeday.

TOMMY. (Losing his temper and shouting.) Ye're a bloody part of the British Bloody Empire!

LACHIE. (TO TOMMY.) And how did ye acquire yur Empire? Tommy. By bloody well conquering the bloody heathens.

LACHIE. (Wearily.) Ahh--the vanity of the English. Ye're nae conquerors. Wuid ye like tae hae me enlighten ye how ye collected yur colonies---Scotland excepted?

TOMMY. Conquered them with soldiers, we did!

LACHIE. Ye conquered them wi' missionaries, no less, Ye send yur preachers tae the land ye've got yur 'ees on. Ye teach the simple heathen tae pray---and once ye've got him kneeling doon---ye hoist the English flag o'er him.

TOMMY. You're a conquered race yourself---still fighting for 'ome rule and electricity.

DIGGER. Lachie's right, Tommy. The missionaries came to Australia. (TO LACHIE.) You're a bright bloke, Lachie.

LACHIE. (TO DIGGER.) So ye claim Australia?

DIGGER. Gawd's country.

LACHIE. A presumption, I think. I'm nae impressed by a land that produces naught more sensible than a great jumping rat.

DIGGER (Angrily.) A kangaroo ain't a rat.

KIWI. (Angrily.) And New Zealand isn't any heathen land.

LACHIE. (To KIWI.) And wot represents ye? The kiwi. A bird wi' nae wings. A bird that canna fly.

YANK. (TO KIWI and DIGGER---smugly, and amused.) Well---I guess he's told you off. You won't find any kangaroos in America ---or b-b-birds that can't fly.

LACHIE. (With compassion and pity.) Ah, America! The land of Mickey Moose. The land of plenty---and ye live oot of tin cans and ten-cent stores. Ye've as many varieties of churches as ye hae pickles---but ye worship vitamins and Sinatra.

YANK. (Really sore.) You're speaking from a warehouse of ignorance.

LACHIE. Aye---am I? I sailed from Glasgow---a city of which ye've nae doot heard---when I were twelve. I worked one Godforsaken winter in yur great New York. I've examined ye at close range and I dinna care fur yur breed. Nothing pursonal.

YANK. B-b-buster, you and I are going to have trouble getting together. (BLOSSOM rises.)

TOMMY. Serve you right for siding with 'im.

KIWI. Look---let's stop getting sore at each other---it's too damned silly. (BLOSSOM starts crossing R. C. to stare at LACHIE.)

LACHIE. (Studying BLOSSOM.) And may I ask---who is this British subject?

YANK. The luckiest g-guy in the ward-he doesn't understand English.

LACHIE. And wot does he want?

YANK. He just wants to l-l-look at you. He's n-n-never seen anything like you before. (They all turn away from LACHIE and take up their sewing again. BLOSSOM goes back to stringing beads. In a moment MARGARET comes in carrying water bottle. She looks around.)

MARGARET. Well---how are we getting along? (When no one answers, she continues to LACHIE.) Have you met the men in the ward yet? This is Yank.

YANK. We've m-m-met.

MARGARET. (TO LACHIE.) Have you met all of them?

YANK. We're all b-b-buddies.

MARGARET. (Crosses U. R. of LACHIE'S bed and puts water bottle on B.T.) Well, have you thought of anything I can do for you?

LACHIE. Ye've nae the authority tae send me back to ma' regiment?

MARGARET. I'm afraid you'll have to be patient and wait a while.

LACHIE. I'll wait---but I'll nae be patient.

MARGARET. What regiment are you with, LACHIE?

YANK. You're n-n-not going to get very far, Sister, unless you're a Scot or your G-g-grandfather's alive.

LACHIE. (Turns on YANK.) Wuid ye care to hae me rattle yur jaw wi' ma fist?

MARGARET. Yank---is this your idea of good manners? What's come over you?

LACHIE. I dinna expect manners in a Yankee,

YANK. One more crack like that and I'll stop lend lease! (He turns away.)

MARGARET. (Fussing with pillow and blankets.) Now let's get back to Scotland. Do you happen to know Ayrshire?

LACHIE. Ye moost bae looked on ma' card. I wa' born in Ayrshire.

MARGARET. Really, I didn't. Oh---I know Ayr and Doon' Foot well.

LACHIE. But ye're no Scot.

MARGARET. I once taught school there. Such darling children.

LACHIE. (Pause.) Aye.

MARGARET. And lovely farming land.

LACHIE. (A longer pause.) Aye.

MARGARET. Now if you tell me that you belong to the Cameron Highlanders, I won't believe you.

LACHIE. Ye've looked up ma' record.

MARGARET. Do you belong to the Camerons?

LACHIE. Aye---I do.

MARGARET. You don't!

LACHIE. Hae ye trooble wi' yur hearing, Sister?

MARGARET. Well, I'm just amazed. Oh, they're a grand regiment.

LACHIE. Guid enough.

MARGARET. You wear the Errach tartan, don't you?

LACHIE. Aye---them as does---do.

MARGARET. Did you bring your kilt with you? (LACHIE does not answer.) You wear a kilt, don't you?

LACHIE. It's our privilege for walking out.

MARGARET. Will you wear it for us soon? (Crosses U. C.) Wouldn't you men like to see Lachie in his kilt?

YANK. I can h-h-hardly wait.

MARGARET. (TO LACHIE.) Oh---with your cap cocked over one eye---and your kilt swishing as you walk down the street, you must be the proudest man in the world.

LACHIE. (Is silent for a moment.) I dinna hae a kilt. (YANK turns toward LACHIE.)

MARGARET. Oh, but you must have a kilt.

LACHIE. I dinna moost at all. (DIGGER looks at LACHIE.)

MARGARET. But you belong to the Camerons, and you're allowed to wear one---what sort of Scot are you, Lachlen?

LACHIE. We're required tae pay fur a kilt ourselves. And there's a great cost tae a proper kilt.

MARGARET. Oh---you're not issued a kilt? (TOMMY looks at LACHIE.)

LACHIE. We're issued naught but battle-dress.

MARGARET. Well, if I were in your regiment, I'd buy myself the finest to be had---no matter what the cost.

LACHIE. Being a woman---ye wuid. I poot ma' money tae better use. It's a question of values.

MARGARET. (Stepping nearer LACHIE.) Now, Lachlen---you've been away about four years, haven't you?

LACHIE. Aye---I wa' seventeen.

MARGARET. You couldn't have spent all your pay. You ought to be ashamed if you haven't saved something.

LACHIE. Ma' money's in Scotland.

MARGARET. You could send for it.

LACHIE. I cannae take it awt of the earth.

YANK. (Bounds up in bed.) I n-n-knew it! He's got it buried in a tin can.

LACHIE. (Picks up water bottle beside his bed---stands up R. Of bed.) I'll belt ye wi' a boattle if ye dinna keep yur mooth shet.

MARGARET. (Turns to YANK.) Yank---if you're not well---lie down. But please be civil. (Turns to LACHIE.)

LACHIE. I'll nae return tae Scotland wi' naught but ma' wounds tae show fur ma' time. (He puts bottle back on bed table.) I've invested ma' money in a bit of land. I'll be a landowner. I'll have a home of ma' own. (He crosses to window D. R.---looks out---the boys watch him during this speech. They are suddenly sobered.)

MARGARET. Oh.

LACHIE. And why do you say "oh"? Whit on earth is finer than a farm? Land of yur own to work on---and spend the rest of yur life content. (He stares out window.)

MARGARET. Does all your pay go into paying off for your bit of land?

LACHIE. Aye. I've nae wasted ma' money on drink and sweets.

MARGARET. Is your land about paid for?

LACHIE. A couple of months and the farm is ma' own.

MARGARET. (Is silent a moment.) Why don't you do something very foolish, Lachie? Why don't you buy yourself a kilt? The land will wait.

LACHIE. The kilt will wait.

KIWI. Are you buying your farm to share with someone?

LACHIE. (Turns to KIWI.) To share wi' nae one. (Looks out window again. DIGGER, TOMMY and KIWI go back to their needlework, as does YANK.)

MARGARET. You're going to live on your farm---all by yourself?

LACHIE. Aye.

MARGARET. And you won't be lonely?

LACHIE. I've ne'r been lonely in ma' life.

MARGARET. Well---you seem to know what you want. (Crosses U. C.) You are all unusually industrious today.

YANK. B-b-busy little bees---making every moment c-c-count. (Sticks his crochet needle into work viciously. MARGARET exits U. C. Beginning with DIGGER at a count of three from the end of YANK'S line, the boys turn and took at LACHIE who is looking out window D. R. On the count of Six, YANK turns. On the count of nine, TOMMY turns. On the count of twelve, KIWI turns. On thirteen, BLOSSOM follows KIWI's look to LACHIE. To LACHIE.) What makes you want to live on a farm---and thumb your nose at the world?

LACHIE. I should nae hae encouraged ye tae talk.

YANK. Would it upset any p-p-plans of yours if I asked you a question---just one question?

LACHIE. (Turns and crosses to D. R. of his own bed.) There's naught ye could dew tae upset me. And I'll grant ye a single question---nae moor.

YANK. Th-th-thanks. That's damned white of you. (Leans forward, and swings his legs down, so he is sitting facing LACHIE.) What are you griped about?

LACHIE. And wot dew ye mean by "gripe" ? Wuid ye be sae kind as tae speak English?

YANK. (Rises L. of LACHIE'S bed.) L-l-look. I've got a parrot that speaks better English than you do.

LACHIE. A pity ye didn't learn frae yur parrot.

YANK. (Controlling himself.) I just wanted to know what you're sore about. When a guy is friendly to you---why can't you be pleasant?

LACHIE. Were ye being friendly?

YANK. Didn't you g-g-guess?

LACHIE. Ye shuid hae told me. I cuid hae saved ye time and trooble. I dirma need companionship. I put nae value on the human animal. I dirma like tae hae ma freedom nibbled intae.

(Crosses U. R. of bed and sits.)

YANK. (Crosses U. L. Of LACHIE'S bed---even with him.) Then just what do you "put a value on" ?

LACHIE. I knew ye'd presume tae ask a second question. (He turns to look up at YANK and speaks with angry insistence.) If ye'd used yur God-gaen wits, ye wuid nae ask. I value ma' privacy. Do ye mind?

YANK. (Flaring.) You can have it! (He crosses U. R. and gets a screen---motioning to BLOSSOM to help as he passes him. YANK Sets up the L. screen---BLOSSOM sets up R. one---thus shutting LACHIE off from the ward and the audience.) You can stay in your private world---and h-h-hug yourself to death. As far as we're concerned, brother, you w-w-won't exist. (BLOSSOM returns to his bed.)

LACHIE. (Head appearing above screens.) If ye dinna mind, I'm nae yur brother. (He disappears. YANK throws himself on his back on his bed.)

YANK. Who's got a dull razor? I think I'll cut my throat.

TOMMY. (Indicating screens.) Sister's going to take a poor view of that.

YANK. I'm just giving him what he asked for.

TOMMY. (Putting needlework away and back rest down in aisle R. of bed, puzzled and surprised.) 'E don't like nobody. 'E don't even like 'isself.

DIGGGER. (To YANK.) Hey, Yank---what did you mean by that crack about Australia?

KIWI. Yeah---and you agreed with him about New Zealand.

YANK. Oh, forget it.

TOMMY. (Lies down.) Hm---bloody cattle-thieves. (The first waiting note from the bagpipe is heard. ---All sit bolt upright. Due to the lack of time, a piper is in the nurse's office, doing the actual piping, but LACHIE'S foot can be seen keeping time below the screen.)

YANK. What was that?

TOMMY. It wasn't me. I 'adn't even got to sleep yet. (YANK stands on his bed, looks over top of screens. Then points to front of screens.)

YANK. It's bagpipes! (grabbing his sides---speaking through gritted teeth.) Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, D-d-d-deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges . . .

Act II, Scene 1

Synopsis