PART ONE

PART ONE: SCENE I

SCENE: The drawing-room of the tiny palace of the MAYOR of a small mining town. The room is poor, but has about it a certain official grandeur; tarnished gold chairs with worn tapestry seats and backs, and the slight stuffiness of all official rooms. In the downstage R. wall is a fireplace with coal grate and a mantel of white marble on which there is a large porcelain clock, and behind it a dark frame filled with miniature pictures. Upstage two large windows, and up L., glass-paned doors to vestibule and stairs leading to the upper floor. Down L., a door which it will appear leads to the MAYOR’S bedroom. Upstage R., a door which apparently leads to the dining-room, kitchen and stairways in the upper part of the house. The grandeur of the room is carried out with completely useless but very beautiful bric-a-brac on mantel and on tables, and whatever lamps are necessary to light the scene. Altogether it is a warm room which, trying to be stiff and official, has from use become rather comfortable and pleasant. A small coal fire burns in the grate. A brass coal-scuttle stands on the hearth. An upholstered arm-chair stands near the fireplace. A chess game on a small table stands between the arm-chair and a side-chair which faces the arm-chair. In the center of the room is a large sofa with a small table at each end. The MAYOR’S desk and chair stand against the L. wall upstage of his bedroom door. On this wall hang three gold-framed paintings. R. of the vestibule doors is a large grandfather’s clock. In the window alcove is an elaborate table with a side-chair at its downstage side. In this alcove, too, is a gold painted pedestal on which stands an elaborate silver-leaf vase holder with a glass vase filled with ferns. Side-chairs are L. of vestibule doors and down L. facing the sofa. Wall L. of dining-room door carries a large gold-framed painting. Below it stands a console table. R. wall below dining-room door carries two small gold-framed pictures. All the walls except the R. one are covered with drapes of a dark red and gold figure. A pleasant warm light comes into the room from the outside.

As the curtain rises, DR. WINTER, bearded, simple and benign, is sitting on the sofa. He is the town historian and physician, and is dressed in a dark suit and very white linen, but his shoes are heavy and thick-soled. He sits rolling his thumbs over and over in his lap.

JOSEPH, the serving man of the MAYOR, goes about straightening furniture, doing little things that by no means need to be done, and occasionally looking at WINTER.

 

WINTER [looking up from his thumbs]: Eleven o’clock? JOSEPH [abstractedly carrying ash-tray from desk to end table L.of sofa]: Yes, sir, the note said eleven.

WINTER [half-humorously]: You read the note, Joseph?

JOSEPH [ignoring the humor, carrying side-chair from L.C. to L. of table U.C.]: No, sir. His Excellency read the note to me.

WINTER: He always asks me to come when there’s trouble.

JOSEPH moves about the room, straightening furniture he has already straightened. He moves side-chair R.C. to R. end of table U.C.

JOSEPH: Yes, sir.

WINTER [amusingly]: Eleven o’clock. [He glances at watch he has taken from his pocket.] And they’ll be here, too. [Pause.] A time-minded people, Joseph.

JOSEPH [not listening]: Yes, sir.

WINTER: A time-minded people.

JOSEPH: Yes, sir.

WINTER: They hurry to their destiny as though it wouldn’t wait.

JOSEPH [obviously not listening]: Quite right, sir.

WINTER [rolling his thumbs rapidly and watching JOSEPH discipline the table R. of sofa]: What’s the Mayor doing?

JOSEPH: Dressing to receive the Colonel, sir.

WINTER [in mock concern]: And you aren’t helping him? He’ll be badly dressed by himself.

JOSEPH [stuffily, crossing to mantel for small ornament which he places on table R. of sofa]: Madame is helping him. Madame wants him to look his best. She is trimming the hair out of his ears. He won’t let me do it. He says it tickles.

WINTER: Of course it tickles.

JOSEPH [stuffily]: Madame insists.

WINTER [rises and crosses to mantel, lighting pipe. As he leaves sofa, JOSEPH straightens the pillows on it]: We’re so wonderful. Our country is invaded and Madame is holding the Mayor by the neck and trimming the hair from his ears.

JOSEPH [sternly, crosses to table U.C., arranging chairs around table R. to L.]: He was getting shaggy, sir. His eyebrows, too. His Excellency is even more upset about having his eyebrows trimmed than his ears. He says that hurts.

WINTER: It does.

JOSEPH: She wants him to look his best. [JOSEPH at L. end of table turns sharply to look at WINTER.]

WINTER [looking at clock]: They’re early. Let them in, Joseph.

JOSEPH goes into vestibule. The front door is heard opening. A SOLDIER steps in, dressed in a long coat, helmeted and carrying over his arm a submachine gun. He glances quickly about and then steps aside. CAPTAIN BENTICK enters and stands in the doorway.

NOTE On Uniforms. Throughout, the uniforms of both soldiers and officers are plain as possible. Rank can be indicated by small colored tabs at the collar, but little else. Helmets should be a variation on any obvious shape which will identify these as being soldiers of any known nation.

BENTICK [looking at WINTER. BENTICK is a slightly overdrawn picture of an English gentleman. He has a slouch. His face is red, long nose, but rather pleasant, and he seems as unhappy in his uniform as most British General Officers are. JOSEPH follows BENTICK in and stands at door]: Are you Mayor Orden?

WINTER: No. No, I am not.

BENTICK: You are an official?

WINTER [coming toward him]: I’m the town doctor. I’m a friend of the Mayor.

BENTICK [crossing to him]: Where is Mayor Orden?

JOSEPH crosses D.L. to watch.

WINTER: Dressing to receive you, sir. You are the Colonel?

BENTICK [almost embarrassedly]: I am Captain Bentick. [He bows and WINTER bows slightly back to him. BENTICK continues, as though a little embarrassed at what he has to say.] We search for weapons before the Commanding Officer enters a room. We mean no disrespect, sir. [Calling to SERGEANT.] Sergeant . . .

SERGEANT moves quickly to JOSEPH and runs his hands over his pockets.

SERGEANT: Nothing, sir.

BENTICK [To WINTER]: I hope you will pardon us.

SERGEANT approaches WINTER, pats his pockets.

SERGEANT: Nothing, sir. [He then crosses to fireplace, examines it, then goes to door R. Looks out.]

JOSEPH watches SERGEANT and crosses to R. of clock.

BENTICK [he takes a card from his pocket, reads it and says]: I believe there are some firearms here.

WINTER: You are thorough.

SERGEANT crosses to clock U.L., opens pendulum door and looks inside.

BENTICK [crossing to fireplace]: Yes, we are. We wouldn’t have been so successful if we weren’t.

WINTER: Do you know where every gun in the town is?

BENTICK: Nearly all, I guess. We had our people working here for quite a long time.

SERGEANT crosses to MAYOR’S desk and looks in drawers.

WINTER: Working here? Who?

SERGEANT crosses R. above sofa to door R. and exits.

BENTICK: Well, the work is done now. It’s bound to come out. The man in charge here is named Corell.

JOSEPH follows SERGEANT to door R. Stops to listen for a moment, then exits after SERGEANT.

WINTER [unbelieving]: George Corell?

BENTICK: Yes.

WINTER: I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. Why, George had dinner with me on Friday. Why, I’ve played chess with

George night after night. You must be wrong. Why, he gave the big shooting match in the hills this morning—gave the prizes—

BENTICK [crossing to door R.]: Yes—that was clever—there wasn’t a soldier in town. [He exits R.]

WINTER [crossing to fireplace]: George Corell—

The door on the L. opens and MAYOR ORDEN enters. He is digging his right ear with his little finger. He is a fine-looking man of about sixty-five and he seems a little too common and too simple for the official morning coat he wears and the gold chain of office around his neck. His hair has been fiercely brushed, but already a few hairs are struggling to be free. He has dignity and warmth. Behind him MADAME ORDEN enters. She is small and wrinkled and fierce, and very proprietary. She considers that she created this man, and ever since he has been trying to get out of hand. She watches him constantly as the lady shower of a prize dog watches her entry at a dog show. She comes up beside the MAYOR, takes his hand and pulls his finger out of his ear and gently puts his hand to his side, the way she would take a baby’s thumb from his mouth.

MADAME: I don’t believe for a moment it hurts that much. [She turns to WINTER.] He won’t let me fix his eyebrows.

MAYOR: It hurts.

MADAME: Very well, if you want to look like that. [She sees BENTICK as he enters R. and crosses C. to sofa. She crosses to meet him.] Oh! The Colonel!

SERGEANT enters after BENTICK, crosses U.L.C. JOSEPH follows SERGEANT on. Crosses U.R.

BENTICK: No, Ma’am . . . I am only preparing for the Colonel. Sergeant! [SERGEANT comes quickly to MAYOR and runs his hands over his pockets.] Excuse him, sir . . . it’s the regulations. [SERGEANT moves toward MADAME, but BENTICK stops him. She crosses to R. of BENTICK. He glances at card in his hand again.] Your Excellency, I think you have firearms here. Two items, I believe.

MAYOR [bewildered]: Firearms! Guns, you mean? Yes, I have a shotgun and a sporting rifle.

BENTICK: Where are these guns, your Excellency?

MAYOR [rubs his cheek and tries to think]: Why, I think—[He turns to MADAME.]—Aren’t they in the back of that cabinet in the bedroom, with the walking sticks?

MADAME: I don’t know why you insist on keeping them in the bedroom. You never use them.

BENTICK: Sergeant. [SERGEANT quickly goes offstage to bedroom. MADAME follows him off.] It’s an unpleasant duty. I’m sorry.

MAYOR [deprecatingly]: You know I don’t hunt very much any more. I always think I’m going to, and then the season opens and I don’t get out. I guess I don’t take the pleasure in it I used to.

SERGEANT re-enters, carrying a double-barrelled shotgun and a rather nice sporting rifle with a shoulder strap. He exits into vestibule. MADAME enters from bedroom after SERGEANT.

BENTICK: Thank you, your Excellency. [Crossing to her.] Thank you, Madame. [He turns and bows slightly to WINTER.] Thank you, Doctor. Colonel Lanser will be here directly. Good morning!

MAYOR: Good morning.

BENTICK exits by front door. Front door closes.

MADAME [crossing U.C.]: For a moment I thought he was the Colonel.

MAYOR crosses L. to desk.

WINTER [sardonically, crossing to sofa, sits]: No, he is just protecting the Colonel.

MADAME [thinking]: I wonder how many officers will come? [She looks over at JOSEPH and sees that he is shamelessly eavesdropping. She shakes her head at him and frowns and he exits R. She moves chess-table to L. of arm-chair.] I don’t know whether it would be correct to offer them tea or a glass of wine. It is so difficult to plan, when you don’t know.

WINTER [shakes his head and smiles and says in mock seriousness ]: It’s been so long since we’ve been invaded, or invaded anyone else. I just don’t know what’s correct.

MAYOR: We won’t offer them anything. I don’t think the people would like it. I don’t want to drink wine with them. [Sits desk chair.]

MADAME [appealing to WINTER]: Didn’t people in the old days . . . leaders, that is . . . compliment each other . . . take a glass of wine—?

WINTER [nodding]: Yes, they did. Rulers used to play at war the way Englishmen play at hunting. When the fox was dead, they got together at a hunt breakfast. The Mayor is right, Madame. The town wouldn’t want him to drink wine with the invader.

MADAME [acidly, as she takes ornament JOSEPH set on table R. of sofa, back to mantel]: They are all down listening to the music. Annie told me they were. Why shouldn’t we keep proper decencies alive?

During her speech the MAYOR has appeared to be coming out of a dream. He looks steadily at MADAME and then says sharply.

MAYOR [rises, crosses L.C.]: Madame, I think with your permission we will not have wine! [She crosses to R. of sofa.] The people are confused. We have lived at peace so long they don’t quite believe in war. Six town boys were murdered this morning. We will have no hunt breakfast. The people do not fight wars for sport.

MADAME [in disbelief, crossing in above sofa]: Murdered?

MAYOR [bitterly]: Our twelve soldiers were at the shooting match in the hills. They saw the parachutes and they came back. At the bend in the road by Toller’s farm the machine guns opened on them and six were killed.

MADAME [excitedly, crossing to him]: Which ones were killed? Annie’s sister’s boy was there.

MAYOR: I don’t know which ones were killed. [He looks at WINTER.] I don’t even know how many soldiers are here. [Crossing to sofa, sits L. of WINTER.]... Do you know how many men the invader has?

WINTER [shrugging]: Not many, I think. Not over two hundred and fifty. But all with those little machine guns.

MAYOR: Have you heard anything about the rest of the country? Here there were parachutes, a little transport. It happened so quickly. [WINTER raises his shoulders and drops them. The MAYOR says, rather hopelessly.] Was there no resistance anywhere?

WINTER again shrugs his shoulders.

WINTER: I don’t know. The wires are cut. There is no news.

MAYOR: And our soldiers . . . ?

WINTER: I don’t know.

JOSEPH [enters from R., crosses D. to sofa]: I heard . . . that is, Annie heard . . . six of our men were killed by the machine guns. Annie heard three were wounded and captured.

MAYOR: But there were twelve.

JOSEPH: Annie heard three escaped.

MAYOR [sharply]: Which ones escaped?

JOSEPH: I don’t know, sir. Annie didn’t hear.

MADAME [crossing R. to arm-chair]: Joseph, when they come, don’t stay in the room all the time. Stay close to your bell. We might want something. [He starts for door. MAYOR rises, crosses to desk. MADAME looks at JOSEPH critically.] And put on your other coat, Joseph . . . [He stops.] . . . the one with the buttons. [She sits arm-chair. JOSEPH starts again. Again she inspects JOSEPH.] Joseph, when you finish what you are told to do, go out of the room. It makes a bad impression when you just stand around listening. It’s provincial.

JOSEPH: Yes, Madame. [He starts again for door.]

MADAME: We won’t serve wine, Joseph. [He stops.] But you might have some cigarettes handy . . . in that little silver conserve box. [He starts.] When you light the Colonel’s cigarette, don’t strike the match on your shoe. Strike it on the match-box.

JOSEPH [coming to her L.]: Yes, Madame. They won’t strike on the shoe, Madame. They are safety matches.

MADAME: Well, strike them on the box, then.

WINTER takes out his watch.

JOSEPH: Yes, Madame. [He exits R.]

MADAME: And don’t forget His Excellency’s coffee. [She rises and exits R.]

MAYOR, unbuttoning his coat, takes out his big gold watch, crosses to sofa.

WINTER: What time have you now?

MAYOR: Five of eleven.

They place their watches back in pockets.

WINTER: Do you want me to go?

MAYOR [a little startled]: Oh, no, please stay. I’m nervous. I need you to stay.

WINTER [rises, crosses to fireplace]: You always send for me when there’s trouble.

Marching feet can be heard approaching the house.

MAYOR [chuckling]: Yes, I do, don’t I?

MADAME [enters from R., excitedly, crosses to windows. MAYOR rises, crosses to desk]: Here they come. I hope not too many try to crowd in here at once. It isn’t a very big room. [MADAME crosses L. to MAYOR.]

JOSEPH enters from R. buttoning his coat, hurrying to the vestibule, exits U.L.

WINTER [sardonically]: Madame would prefer the hall of mirrors at Versailles?

MADAME [pinching her lips, looking about]: It’s a very small room.

Outside is heard the command “Company halt!” The marching stops. A knock on the outside door is heard.

CORPORAL [offstage]: Colonel Lanser’s compliments . . . Colonel Lanser requests an audience with His Excellency. [The helmeted CORPORAL steps inside, looks quickly about and then stands aside, front of clock U.L.C.]

A second helmeted FIGURE steps into the room, his rank showing only on his shoulder. He, too, looks quickly about. The COLONEL is a middle-aged man, gray and hard and tired-looking. He has the square shoulders of a soldier, but his eyes lack the blank wall of a soldier’s man.

COLONEL LANSER [after taking off his helmet, with a quick bow]: Your Excellency. [Bows to MADAME.] Madame . . . [LANSER looks questioningly at WINTER.]

MAYOR [fingering his chain of office]: This is Dr. Winter.

LANSER [courteously]: An official?

MAYOR: A doctor, sir, and the local historian.

LANSER [bows slightly, crossing to C.]: Dr. Winter. I do not mean to be impertinent, this will be a page in your history, perhaps.

WINTER [smiling]: Many pages, perhaps.

GEORGE CORELL enters quickly, places his coat and hat on chair U.L. corner, steps down to R. of MAYOR. JOSEPH follows CORELL on, closes doors and exits R.

LANSER [turning slightly toward his companion]: I think you know Mr. Corell! [Crosses U.R. above sofa.]

MAYOR: George Corell? Of course we know him. How are you, George?

CORELL: Good morning, sir. There are changes this morning.

WINTER [cutting in]: Your Excellency—I think you should know this. Our friend, George Corell, is a traitor.

MAYOR: What do you mean, a traitor?

LANSER crosses to table U.C.,places helmet on table.

WINTER [crossing to arm-chair R.—sits]: He prepared for this invasion. He sent our troops into the hills so they would be out of the way. He listed every firearm in the town. God knows what else he has done. . . .

CORELL [crossing to WINTER]: Doctor, you don’t understand. This thing was bound to come. It’s a good thing. You don’t understand it yet, but when you do, you will thank me. The democracy was rotten and inefficient. Things will be better now. Believe me. [Almost fanatic in his belief.] When you understand the new order you will know I am right.

MAYOR [as though he had not heard the argument, turns to MADAME]: George Corell—a traitor—?

CORELL [impatiently, crossing to front of sofa]: I work for what I believe in. That’s an honorable thing.

MAYOR [crossing to CORELL]: This isn’t true—George—[Almost pleading.] George—you’ve sat at my table—on Madame’s right—we’ve played chess together. This isn’t true, George—?

CORELL [sits sofa]: I work for what I believe in. You will agree with me when you understand.

There is a long silence during which MAYOR’S face grows tight and formal and his whole body becomes rigid.

MAYOR [crossing to desk]: I don’t wish to speak in this gentleman’s presence. [Sits desk chair.]

CORELL [rises]: You have no right to say this. [Crosses L. to MAYOR.] I am a soldier like the rest. I just don’t wear a uniform.

MAYOR: I don’t wish to speak in this gentleman’s presence.

LANSER: Will you leave us now, Mr. Corell?

CORELL: I have a right to be here.

LANSER [sharply]: Do you out-rank me?

CORELL :Oh! No, sir.

LANSER: Please go, Mr. Corell.

For a moment CORELL looks at the MAYOR and his face is angry, then he turns and goes out the door.

WINTER [smiles and chuckles]: That’s worth a paragraph for my history!

LANSER: There are some things we must discuss—first—

MAYOR rises. Door to R. opens and straw-haired, red-eyed

ANNIE enters, crossing R.C.

ANNIE: There’s soldiers on the back porch, Madame. Just standing there.

LANSER: It’s just military procedure. They won’t come in.

MADAME [coldly]: Annie, in the future if you have anything to say, let Joseph bring the message.

ANNIE [defiantly]: I didn’t know but they’d try to get in. They smelled the coffee.

MADAME [coldly]: Annie!

ANNIE [still belligerently]: Yes, Madame—[She looks at LANSER.]—they smelled the coffee. [She exits R. and closes door.]

MADAME sits desk chair.

LANSER [crossing around R. of sofa]: May I sit down, Your Excellency? We’ve been a long time without sleep.

MAYOR : Yes. . . . Yes, of course, sit down.

He sits L. end sofa, LANSER R. end sofa.

LANSER: We want to get along as well as we can. You see, sir, this is more a business venture than anything else. We need your coal mine here, and the fishing. We want to get along with just as little friction as possible.

MAYOR: We’ve had no news. Can you tell me—what about the rest of the country? What has happened?

LANSER: All taken. It was well planned.

MAYOR [insistently]: Was there no resistance . . . anywhere?

LANSER [looking at him almost compassionately]: Yes, there was some resistance. I wish there hadn’t been. It only caused bloodshed. We’d planned very carefully.

MAYOR [sticking to his point]: But there was resistance?

LANSER: Yes. . . . And it was foolish to resist. Just as here, it was destroyed instantly. It was sad and foolish to resist.

WINTER [who has caught some of the MAYOR’S anxiousness about the point]: Yes . . . foolish, but they resisted.

LANSER: Only a few, and they are gone. The people as a whole are quiet.

WINTER: But the people don’t know yet what has happened.

LANSER [a little sternly]: They are discovering now. They won’t be foolish again. [His voice changes, takes on a business-like tone.] I must get to business. I am very tired. Before I can sleep, I must make my arrangements. [He sits forward.] The coal from this mine must come out of the ground and be shipped. We have the technicians with us. The local people will continue to work the mine. Is that clear? We do not wish to be harsh.

MAYOR: Yes, that’s clear enough. But suppose we don’t want to work the mine?

LANSER [tightly]: I hope you will want to, because you must.

MAYOR: And if we won’t?

LANSER [rising]: You must! [Crossing to R. end sofa.] This is an orderly people. They don’t want trouble. [He waits for the MAYOR’S reply, and none comes.] Isn’t that so, sir?

MAYOR: I don’t know. They’re orderly under our government. I don’t know what they’ll be under yours. We’ve built our government over a long time.

LANSER [quickly]: We know that. We’re going to keep your government. You will still be the Mayor. You will give the orders, you will penalize and reward. Then we won’t have trouble.

MAYOR [looking helplessly at WINTER]: What do you think?

WINTER: I don’t know. I’d expect trouble. This might be a bitter people.

MAYOR: I don’t know, either. [He turns to LANSER.] Perhaps you know, sir. Or maybe it might be different from anything you know. Some accept leaders and obey them. But my people elected me. They made me and they can unmake me! Perhaps they will do that, when they think I’ve gone over to you.

LANSER [ominously]: You will be doing them a service if you keep them in order.

MAYOR: A service?

LANSER [crossing to front of sofa—sits]: It’s your duty to protect them. They’ll be in danger if they are rebellious. If they work they will be safe.

MAYOR: But suppose they don’t want to be safe? LANSER: Then you must think for them.

MAYOR [a little proudly]: They don’t like to have others think for them. Maybe they are different from your people?

JOSEPH enters quickly, crosses D.R., leans forward bursting to speak.

MADAME [rises, steps in]: What is it, Joseph? Get the silver box of cigarettes.

JOSEPH: Pardon, Your Excellency.

MAYOR: What do you want, Joseph?

JOSEPH [excitedly]: It’s Annie, sir.

MADAME: What’s the matter with her?

JOSEPH: Annie doesn’t like soldiers on the back porch. LANSER: Are they making trouble?

JOSEPH: They’re looking through the door at Annie, sir. She hates that.

LANSER [sighing]: They are carrying out orders. They’re doing no harm.

MAYOR looks at MADAME helplessly.

JOSEPH: Well, Annie hates to be stared at, sir. She’s getting angry.

MADAME: Joseph, you tell Annie to mind her temper.

JOSEPH [with a gesture of resignation]: Yes, Madame. [He turns, shrugs at WINTER , then exits R.]

MADAME crosses to desk chair, sits.

LANSER [his eyes dropping with weariness]: There is one other thing, Your Excellency. Will it be possible for my staff and me to stay here?

MAYOR [uneasily, a look at MADAME]: It’s a small place. There are larger and more comfortable houses.

LANSER: It isn’t that, sir. We have found that when a staff lives under the roof of the local authority, there is more . . . tranquility.

MAYOR [a little angrily]: You mean . . . the people sense there is collaboration.

LANSER: Yes, I suppose that’s it. [JOSEPH comes in with silver box of cigarettes, opens it ostentatiously in front of LANSER. MADAME rises to watch. He takes one and JOSEPH just as ostentatiously lights it, showing MADAME the match he struck on box before lighting cigarette. LANSER inhales deeply. JOSEPH leaves box on table R. of sofa, exits R.]

MAYOR [looks hopelessly at WINTER and WINTER can offer him nothing but a wry smile. MAYOR speaks softly]: Am I permitted . . . to refuse?

LANSER [taking a deep puff on cigarette]: I’m sorry. No. MAYOR: The people will not like it.

LANSER [as though he speaks to a recalcitrant child]: Always the people. The people are disarmed. They have no say in this.

MAYOR [shaking his head]: You do not know, sir!

From door R. come the following sounds:

FIRST SOLDIER: Look out!

SECOND SOLDIER: It’s boiling!

JOSEPH enters running.

THIRD SOLDIER: Jump!

The splash of water, the clang of a pan, and a sharp cry from a soldier.

JOSEPH [excitedly]: Madame! Annie!

MADAME [rises, crosses above sofa, running]: Annie! [Exits R.]

MAYOR [crossing above sofa, to JOSEPH]: Was anyone hurt?

JOSEPH: The water was boiling! [Exits R.]

From door R. comes the following:

ANNIE: You get out of here! Out of my kitchen! I’ll show you!

MADAME: Annie, you behave yourself!

FIRST SOLDIER: Grab her! Get hold of her!

MADAME: Annie!

ANNIE : Let go of me! MADAME : Annie, you stop that!

A sharp thud of someone being thrown to the floor, and a cry from a soldier as though he had been bitten.

LANSER [getting up heavily, crosses to desk, speaks angrily]: Have you no control over your servants, sir?

MAYOR [smiling]: Very little. Annie is a good cook when she’s happy.

LANSER [wearily]: We just want to do our job. You must discipline your cook.

MAYOR : I can’t. She’ll quit.

LANSER: This is an emergency. She can’t quit.

WINTER [very much amused]: Then she’ll throw water.

The door, R., opens and a SOLDIER enters, crosses D.R.

SOLDIER: Shall I arrest this woman, sir?

LANSER: Was anyone hurt?

SOLDIER: Yes, sir, scalded, and one man bitten. We are holding her down, sir.

LANSER [helplessly, leans against desk]: Oh! Release her and go outside.

SOLDIER: Very good, sir. [crosses R. to door.] LANSER: Off theporch.

SOLDIER exits and closes door behind him.

LANSER: I could lock her up. I could have her shot.

MAYOR: Then we’d have no cook.

LANSER [putting out cigarette in desk ash-tray]: Our instructions are to get along with your people. I’m very tired, sir. I must have some sleep. Please cooperate with us for the good of all.

MAYOR [thoughtfully]: I don’t know. The people are confused and so am I!

LANSER: But will you try to cooperate?

MAYOR [slowly, crossing to front sofa]: I don’t know. When the town makes up its mind what it wants to do I will probably do that. [Sits sofa.]

LANSER: You’re the authority.

MAYOR: Authority is in the town. That means we cannot act as quickly as you can . . . but when the direction is set . . . we act all together. I don’t know . . . yet!

LANSER: I hope we can get along together. I hope we can depend on you to help. Look at it realistically. There’s nothing you can do to stop us. And I don’t like to think of the means the military must take to keep order. [Crosses U.C. to table for helmet.]

MAYOR is silent, looking at floor.

MADAME [enter from R. with cup of coffee, crosses to R. of MAYOR] : She’s all right. [Hands him cup.]

LANSER crosses D.L., puts on helmet.

MAYOR [taking cup]: Thank you, my dear.

LANSER : I hope we can depend on you.

MAYOR: I don’t know—yet.

LANSER bows, turns sharply, exits U.L., followed by CORPORAL. MADAME sits R. of MAYOR on sofa, straightens his hair.

CURTAIN

PART ONE: SCENE II

SCENE: The same room a few days later. Piled military equipment and canvas-wrapped bundles are lying around. The sofa and end-tables as well as the chess-table, pedestal and vase of ferns have been removed. The 3 gold-framed pictures that hung above the MAYOR’S desk have been taken down. The drapes and curtains which hung at the windows have been removed. On the mantel stands only a clock and an ash-tray. The MAYOR’S desk has maps, a microscope, several specimens of rock and ore. At the windows are three odd chairs. Three more chairs are placed at the table in C. of room. This is the same table that was at the windows in the preceding scene.

Since most of the staff enter this scene, they might be described thus:

MAJOR HUNTER , the second in command, is a short wide-shouldered mining engineer . . . a man of figures and a formula. If there had been no war, no one would have thought of making a soldier of him. None of the humor, or the music, or the mysticism of higher mathematics ever entered his head. His drawing-board and his geologic hammer were his most important possessions. He had been married twice, and he did not know why each of his wives became very nervous before she left him. HUNTER’S brows are heavy and his eyes small and bright and wide-set.

CAPTAIN BENTICK , who comes into the scene only as a corpse, was a family man. A lover of dogs and pink children and Christmas. He was too old to be a Captain, but a curious lack of ambition has kept him in that rank. When there is no war, he admires British country gentlemen very much, wears English clothes, keeps English dogs, smokes a special pipe mixture sent him from London, in an English pipe. He subscribes to those country magazines which extol flower gardening, and continually argues about the merit of English and Gordon Setters. Once he wrote a letter to the Times concerning grass drying in the Midlands. He signed it, “Edmund Twitchel, Esquire” and the Times had printed it.

CAPTAIN LOFT is truly a military man. As much a Captain as one can imagine. He lives and breathes his Captaincy. He has no unmilitary moments. He can click his heels as perfectly as a dancer does. He knows every kind of military courtesy, and insists on using it all. Generals are afraid of him because he knows more about the deportment of soldiers than they do. He believes that a soldier is the highest development of animal life, and if he considers God at all, he thinks of him as an old and honored General, retired and gray, living among remembered battles.

LIEUTENANT PRACKLE is an undergraduate . . . a snot-nose; a lieutenant trained in the politics of the day, he believes the great new system invented by a genius so great that he has never bothered to verify its results. LIEUTENANT PRACKLE is a devil with women. If he lived in America he might well be giving his all every Saturday to his Alma Mater, for war to him is rather like a football game, and so far he has enjoyed it immensely. He is a sentimental young man, and he considers himself a cynical one. He carries a lock of hair in his watch, which is constantly getting loose and clogging the balance wheel. PRACKLE is a pleasant dancing partner, but nevertheless he can scold like the leader, can brood like the leader; he hates degenerate art, and has destroyed several canvasses with his own hands. PRACKLE has several blonde sisters, of whom he is proud and about whom he is sensitive. He has caused a commotion on occasion when he thought they were insulted. His sisters are a little upset about it, because they are afraid someone might set out to prove the insults, which would not be hard to do. LIEUTENANT PRACKLE once spent two weeks’ furlough attempting to seduce LIEUTENANT TONDER’S blonde sister, a buxom girl who loved to be seduced by older men who did not muss her hair as LIEUTENANT PRACKLE did.

LIEUTENANT TONDER is a different kind of sophomore. A dark and bitter and cynical poet, who dreams of the perfect ideal love of elevated young men for poor girls. Once he wooed and won a beautiful and smelly waif, and that was before the application of Sulphanilamide. He broods often on death, his own particularly, lighted by a fair setting sun which glints on broken military equipment, his men standing silently around him, with low-sunk heads, while over a fat cloud gallop the Valkyrie to the thunderous strains of Wagnerian music. And he has his dying words ready to speak.

There are the men of the staff, each one playing war as children play run-sheep-run, and their wars so far have been play . . . fine weapons and fine planning against unarmed, planless and surprised enemies. Under pressure they were capable of courage or cowardice, as anyone is.

COLONEL LANSER, among them all, knows what war really is. He had been in Belgium and France twenty years before, and he tries not to think what he knows; that war is hatred and treachery, the muddling of incompetent generals, torture and killing and sick tiredness, until at last it is over and nothing has changed except for new weariness and new hatreds. LANSER is a soldier; given orders to carry out, he will carry them out. And he will try to put aside his own sick memories of war.

As the curtain rises it is morning. R. of the large center table MAJOR HUNTER sits. He is balancing his drawing-board against the edge of the table and against his lap. He works with a T-Square triangle and drawing pencil. The drawing-board is unsteady and unsatisfactory to work on. Attempting to draw a line, his pencil slips.

 

HUNTER [calling sharply]: Prackle, Lieutenant Prackle!

The bedroom door opens, PRACKLE comes out. His tunic is off, and half his face is covered with shaving cream. He holds the shaving brush in his hand.

PRACKLE: Yes, Major.

HUNTER [jiggling his drawing-board]: Hasn’t the tripod for my board turned up in the baggage yet?

PRACKLE [crossing in]: I don’t know. I didn’t look.

HUNTER: Well, look now, will you? It’s bad enough to have to work in this light. I’ll have to draw this again before I ink it.

PRACKLE [crossing to door L.]: I’ll find it as soon as I finish shaving.

HUNTER [irritably]: It seems to me this railroad siding is more important than your looks. See if there is a tripod case in there.

PRACKLE exits L. The door to stairway opens and CAP - TAIN LOFT enters.

LOFT [wears helmet, a pair of field-glasses, side-arm, and various little leather cases strung all over him. He begins to remove his equipment as soon as he enters]: You know Bentick is crazy. He was going on duty in a fatigue cap, right down the street. [He puts his glasses on table, takes off his helmet and gas-mask bag. A little pile of equipment begins to heap up on the table.]

HUNTER: Don’t leave that stuff there. I have to work here. [LOFT places his things on chair above table.] Why shouldn’t he wear a fatigue cap? There hasn’t been any trouble. I get sick of these damn tin hats. You can’t see out from under them.

LOFT [grimly. Draws himself up when he speaks, as though he were making a report]: It’s bad business to leave the helmet off. Bad for the people here. We must maintain a military standard of alertness, and never vary it. HUNTER: What makes you think so?

LOFT [draws himself a little higher, thins his mouth with certainty. Sooner or later everyone wants to punch LOFT in the nose for his sureness about things]: I don’t think it. I was paraphrasing Manual X12 on Deportment in Occupied Countries. It is very carefully worked out. The leaders have considered everything. [He starts to say “you,” and then changes it to—] Every soldier should read X12 very carefully. [Sits chair L. of table.]

HUNTER: I wonder whether the man who wrote it was ever in an occupied country. These people seem harmless enough.

PRACKLE comes through door and crosses to R. window, his face still half-covered with dry shaving soap. He carries a brown canvas tube and an iron tripod base.

PRACKLE : Here it is, Major.

HUNTER: Unpack it, will you, and set it up.

PRACKLE opens bag, takes out a metal rod and puts it in the base. HUNTER takes his drawing equipment to chair at window. LIEUTENANT TONDER enters from R. with cup of coffee, crosses to chair vacated by HUNTER, sits and looks at the plan on board.

LOFT: You have soap on your face, Lieutenant.

PRACKLE : Yes, sir. I was shaving when the Major asked me to get the tripod.

LOFT : Better get it off; the Colonel might see you.

PRACKLE: Oh, he wouldn’t mind; he doesn’t care about that.

LOFT: Better wipe it off.

PRACKLE exits L. TONDER is looking at HUNTER’S board and points to a drawing in the corner of the board.

HUNTER sets a chair at tripod.

TONDER: That’s a nice-looking bridge, Major, but where are we going to build a bridge?

HUNTER [crosses to table for board, looks down at drawing and then at TONDER] : Huh? Oh, that isn’t any bridge we’re going to build. Up here is the work drawing. [Takes board to tripod.]

TONDER [rises, crosses U. to window]: Well, what are you doing with the bridge, then?

HUNTER [a little embarrassedly, as he readies his board for work, sitting behind it]: I was just playing with that. You know in my backyard at home I’ve got a model railroad line. I was going to bridge a little creek for it. Brought the line right down to the creek, but I never did get the bridge built. I thought I would kind of work it out while I was away.

PRACKLE enters buttoning his tunic. He has a folded rotogravure page from his pocket. It is a picture of an actress, or any one of a number of girls who are all legs, and dress and eyelashes. A well-developed blonde in black open-work stockings, and a low bodice. She peeps over a black lace fan. TONDER crosses L.C.

PRACKLE [holding her up]: Isn’t she something?

LOFT glances at picture then turns back to his work at table. HUNTER goes on drawing.

TONDER [looks critically at picture]: I don’t like her. PRACKLE: What don’t you like about her?

TONDER: I just don’t like her. [Crossing R. below table to arm-chair at fireplace.] What do you want her picture for? PRACKLE: Because I do like her. I bet you do, too. TONDER: No, I don’t.

PRACKLE: You mean to say you wouldn’t go out with her if you could?

TONDER: No. [Sits arm-chair.]

PRACKLE: You’re just crazy. [Goes to wall above desk L.] I’m just going to stick her up here and let you brood about her for a while. [He nails picture on wall with a rock from desk.]

LOFT [busy with his work]: I don’t think that looks very well out here, Lieutenant. It would make a bad impression on the local people. Better take it down.

HUNTER [looks up from his board for the first time]: Take what down? [He follows their eyes to picture.] Who’s that?

PRACKLE: She’s an actress. [Sits desk chair admiring picture .]

HUNTER: Oh, you know her?

TONDER: She’s a tramp.

HUNTER: Oh, then you know her?

PRACKLE [he seems only now to have understood TONDER. Rises, steps in]: Say, how do you know she’s a tramp?

TONDER: She looks like a tramp. [Rises, places cup on mantel.]

PRACKLE: Do you know her?

TONDER: No, and I don’t want to. [Crosses to R. of HUNTER, watching him work.]

PRACKLE [begins to say]: Then, how do you know . . .?

LOFT [breaking in, looking at him]: Take the picture down. Put it up over your bed if you want to. This is official here. [PRACKLE looks at him mutinously.] That’s an order.

PRACKLE takes down picture, sits desk chair, looking at it.

TONDER [looking over HUNTER’S shoulder again]: What’s that?

HUNTER [coming slowly out of his work]: That’s a new line I’m building from the mine to the ships. Got to get the coal moving. It’s a big job. I’m glad the people here are calm and sensible.

LOFT: They are calm and sensible because we are calm and sensible. I think we can take credit for that. That is why I keep harping on procedure. It is very carefully worked out.

PRACKLE [tries cheerily to change the subject to save his face]: There are some pretty girls in this town, too. As soon as we get settled down, I’m going to get acquainted with a few.

LOFT: You’d better read X12. There is a chapter dealing with sexual matters.

PRACKLE folds picture and puts it in his pocket. Door U.L. opens and LANSER enters, removing his coat as he comes in. His staff gives him military courtesy, but it is not rigid.

LANSER: Captain Loft, will you go down and relieve Bentick at the mine. He isn’t feeling well. Says he is dizzy.

PRACKLE takes his coat and helmet into bedroom L. TONDER crosses to chair at window, sits looking out.

LOFT [getting into his coat and equipment]: Yes, sir. May I suggest, sir, that I only recently came off duty?

LANSER [inspecting him closely]: I hope you don’t mind going?

LOFT: Not at all, sir. I just mentioned it for the record.

LANSER [relaxing and chuckling. Sits against desk]: You like to be mentioned in the record.

LOFT: It does no harm, sir.

LANSER [lighting cigarette]: And when you have enough mentions there will be a little dangler on your chest.

LOFT: They are the milestones in a military career, sir.

LANSER: Yes, I guess they are. But . . . they won’t be the ones you’ll remember.

LOFT: Sir?

LANSER: You’ll know what I mean later . . . perhaps.

LOFT [putting on his equipment rapidly]: Yes sir. [He goes out doors U.L.]

LANSER [watches him go with a little amusement. Quietly]: There is a born soldier.

HUNTER [poises his pencil and looks up from board]: A born ass.

LANSER [crossing to table—looks at reports]: No. He is being a soldier the way another man would be a politician. [PRACKLE enters from L.] He’ll be on the General Staff before long. He’ll look down on the war from above and so he’ll always love it.

PRACKLE: When do you think the war will be over, sir? LANSER: Over?

TONDER turns to them.

PRACKLE [stepping in]: How soon will we win?

LANSER [shaking his head]: Oh, I don’t know. The enemy is still in the world.

PRACKLE: But we’ll lick them.

LANSER [crossing to fireplace]: Yes?

PRACKLE : Won’t we?

LANSER [smiling a little sadly]: Yes . . . Yes . . . [Turns to him.] We always do.

PRACKLE [excitedly. Crosses to table, sits chair L. of table]: Well, if it is quiet around Christmas, do you think there might be some furloughs?

TONDER rises, crosses D. to table.

LANSER: I don’t know. The orders will have to come from home. Do you want to get home for Christmas?

PRACKLE: Well, I’d like to.

LANSER : Maybe you will. . . . Maybe you will.

TONDER: We won’t drop out of this occupation, will we, sir . . . after the war is over?

LANSER: I don’t know. Why?

TONDER [sits chair above table]: Well, it’s a nice country. Nice people. Our men, some of them, might even settle here.

LANSER [jokingly]: You’ve seen a place you like?

TONDER [a little embarrassed]: Well, there are some beautiful little farms here. If four or five of them were thrown together, it would make a nice place to settle.

LANSER: You have no family land at home, then?

TONDER : Not any more, sir. The inflation took it away.

LANSER [tiring now of talking to children]: Ah, well. We still have a war to fight. We still have coal to ship. [Crossing to HUNTER.] Suppose we wait until it is over, before we build up estates. Hunter, your steel will be in tomorrow. You can get your tracks started this week.

A knock at door U.L. CORPORAL enters.

CORPORAL : Mr. Corell wishes to see you, sir.

LANSER: Send him in. [CORPORAL exits. LANSER, speaking to the others, crossing to R. end of table.] He worked hard here for us. We might have some trouble with him.

TONDER: Didn’t he do a good job?

LANSER: Yes, he did. But he won’t be popular with the people here. [Sits chair R. of table.] I wonder if he will be popular with us.

TONDER: He deserves credit.

LANSER: Yes, I suppose he does. But that won’t make him popular.

CORELL [comes in rubbing his hands. He radiates good will and good fellowship. He is dressed in a black business suit. On his head there is a patch of white bandage, stuck into his hair with a cross of adhesive tape. He crosses D. to L. of PRACKLE]: Good morning, Colonel. I should have called yesterday, after the little misunderstanding. But I know how busy you are.

LANSER: Good morning. [With a circular gesture of his hand.] This is my staff, Mr. Corell.

CORELL: Fine boys. [Slaps PRACKLE on the back, who rises and exits L. CORELL crosses D.L.] They did a good job. I did my best to prepare for them.

HUNTER takes out an inking pen, dips it, and begins to ink in his drawing.

LANSER [rises, crosses R. to fireplace. CORELL crosses to chair L. of table]: You did very well. I wish we hadn’t killed those six men, though.

CORELL: Well, six men isn’t much for a town like this, with a coal mine, too.

LANSER [sternly]: I don’t mind killing people if that finishes it. [Turns to him.] But sometimes it doesn’t finish it.

CORELL [looking sideways at TONDER and HUNTER]: Perhaps if we could talk alone, Colonel—?

LANSER: Yes, if you wish. Lieutenant Tonder, will you go to your room, please. [TONDER rises, bows, exits L. CORELL then gestures toward HUNTER.] Major Hunter is working. He doesn’t hear anything when he’s working. [HUNTER looks up from his board, smiles quietly and looks down again. LANSER, not quite at his ease, crossing in to R.C.] Well, here we are. Won’t you sit down?

CORELL: Thank you, Sir. [CORELL takes off coat and hat, places them on chair above table, sits down chair L. of table.]

LANSER [studies bandage on CORELL’S head. Speaks bluntly]: Have they tried to kill you already?

CORELL [fingers the bandage]: This? Oh, no. This was a stone that fell from the cliff in the hills this morning.

LANSER: You are sure it wasn’t thrown?

CORELL: What do you mean? These aren’t fierce people. They haven’t had a war for a hundred years. They’ve forgotten about fighting.

LANSER [crossing L. to desk]: Well, you’ve lived among them, you ought to know. But if you are safe, these people are different from any in the world. I’ve helped to occupy countries before. I was in Belgium twenty years ago, and in France. [Sits against desk, shakes head a little as though to clear it. To CORELL, gruffly.] You did a good job. I have mentioned your work in my report.

CORELL [turns to him]: Thank you, sir. I did my best.

LANSER [a little wearily, places foot on desk chair]: Well, now what shall we do with you? Would you like to go back to the Capitol? You can go in a coal barge if you are in a hurry, or in a destroyer if you want to wait.

CORELL: I don’t want to go back. My place is here.

LANSER: I haven’t very many men. I can’t give you a bodyguard.

CORELL: But I don’t need a bodyguard. I tell you these are not violent people.

LANSER looks at bandage and says nothing.

HUNTER [glancing up from board]: I suggest you start wearing a helmet. [He looks down at his work again.]

CORELL [looks at HUNTER, then rises, steps to LANSER]: I wanted particularly to talk to you, Colonel. I thought I might help with the Civil administration.

LANSER [walks to the R. end of table—looks at HUNTER]: What have you in mind?

CORELL: Well, you must have a Mayor you can trust. I thought perhaps Orden might step down now, and . . . Well, if I were to take over his office . . . we could work very nicely together.

LANSER [his eyes seem to grow large and bright. He turns to CORELL and speaks sharply]: Have you mentioned this in your report to the Capitol?

CORELL: Well, yes . . . naturally, in my analysis . . .

LANSER [interrupting]: Have you talked to any of the town people since we arrived—outside the Mayor, that is?

CORELL [giving ground]: Well, no. You see, they are still a bit startled. They didn’t expect it. [LANSER crosses to above table, looking at HUNTER. Chuckling.] No, sir, they didn’t expect it. [Sits chair L. of table.]

LANSER [pressing his point]: So you don’t really know what is going on in their heads?

CORELL: Why, they’ve had a shock. They’re going to be all right.

LANSER: You don’t know what they think of you?

CORELL: I have lots of friends here. I know everyone.

LANSER [takes a step to him]: Has anyone bought anything in your store this morning?

CORELL: Naturally, business is at a standstill.

LANSER [suddenly relaxes. He speaks quietly]: Yours is a difficult and brave branch of the service. [Crosses U. to HUNTER.] It should be greatly rewarded.

CORELL: Thank you, sir.

LANSER: You’ll have their hatred in time.

CORELL: I can stand that, sir. They are the enemy.

LANSER [hesitating a long moment before he speaks. Says almost in a whisper, turning to CORELL]: You will not even have our respect.

CORELL [jumping to his feet]: The Leader has said all branches are equally honorable.

LANSER [still very quietly]: I hope the Leader is right. I hope he can read the minds of soldiers. [Crosses to chair R. end table, sits. Pulls himself together.] Now. We must come to exactness. I am in charge here. I must maintain order and discipline. To do that I must know what is in the minds of these people. I must anticipate revolt.

CORELL [sits in chair L. of table]: I can find out what you wish to know, sir. As Mayor here, I will be very effective.

LANSER: Orden is more than Mayor. He is the people. He will think what they think. By watching him I will know them. He must stay. That is my judgment.

CORELL: My place is here, sir. I have made my place.

LANSER: I have no orders about this. I must use my own judgment. I think you will never again know what is going on here. I think no one will speak to you. No one will be near to you, except those people who live on money. I think without a bodyguard you will be in great danger. I prefer that you go back to the Capitol.

CORELL: My work, sir, merits better treatment than being sent away.

LANSER [slowly]: Yes, it does. But to the larger work I think you are only in the way. If you are not hated yet, you will be. In any little revolt you will be the first to be killed. I suggest that you go back.

CORELL [rises, stiffly]: You will, of course, permit me to wait for a reply from the Capitol?

LANSER: Of course. [Rises.] But I shall recommend that you go back for your own safety. Frankly . . . you have no further value here. [Crossing.] But . . . well, there must be other plans in other countries. Perhaps you will go now to some new town, win new confidence . . . a greater responsibility. I will recommend you highly for your work here.

CORELL [his eyes shining with the praise]: Thank you, sir. I have worked hard. Perhaps you are right. [Crosses to chair above table, puts on coat.] But I will wait for the reply from the Capitol.

LANSER [his voice tight and his eyes slitted. Harshly, crossing to table]: Wear a helmet. Keep indoors. Do not go out at night, and above all do not drink. Trust no woman or any man. You understand?

CORELL [smiling as though LANSER were a petulant child. Crossing D. to below table]: I don’t think you understand. I have a little house, a country girl waits on me. I even think she is fond of me. These are peaceful people.

LANSER: There are no peaceful people. When will you learn it? There are no friendly people. Can’t you understand that? We have invaded this country. You, by what they call treachery, prepared for us. [His face grows red and his voice rises.] Can’t you understand that we are at war with these people? [Crosses U.R.]

CORELL [a little smugly]: We have defeated them.

LANSER [he goes on as though he were instructing a class. Crosses to him above table]: A defeat is a momentary thing. A defeat doesn’t last. We were defeated and now we are back. Defeat means nothing. Can’t you understand that? Do you know what they are whispering behind doors?

CORELL: Do you?

The door R. closes suddenly. Both men turn to look.

LANSER: No. [Crosses to fireplace.]

CORELL [crosses quickly to door R., opens it, looks out, then closes it and crosses D.R. to LANSER. Insinuatingly]: Are you afraid, Colonel? [LANSER turns to him.] Should our Commander be afraid?

LANSER [sitting down heavily in arm-chair]: Maybe that’s it. [He says disgustedly.] I am tired of people who have not been at war who know all about it. [He is silent for a moment.] I remember a little old woman in Brussels. Sweet face, white hair . . . delicate old hands. [He seems to see the figure in front of him.] She used to sing our songs to us in a quivering voice. She always knew where to find a cigarette or a virgin. [LANSER catches himself as though he had been asleep.] We didn’t know her son had been executed. When we finally shot her, she had killed twelve men with a long black hat-pin.

CORELL [eagerly]: But you shot her.

LANSER: Of course we shot her!

CORELL: And the murders stopped?

LANSER: No . . . the murders didn’t stop. And when finally we retreated, the people cut off stragglers. They burned some. And they gouged the eyes from some. And some they even crucified.

CORELL: These are not good things to say.

LANSER: They are not good things to remember.

CORELL: You should not be in command if you are afraid. [Crosses away from LANSER to L. end of table.]

LANSER [softly]: I know how to fight.

CORELL [turns to him]: You don’t talk this way to the young officers?

LANSER [shaking his head]: No. They wouldn’t believe me.

CORELL [in anger and fear. Crossing toward him]: Why do you tell me, then?

LANSER: Because your work is done. Your work is done.

The door U.L. bursts open. CAPTAIN LOFT enters. He is rigid and cold and military.

LOFT: There is trouble, sir.

LANSER [rises]: Trouble?

LOFT: Captain Bentick has been hurt.

LANSER: Oh . . . yes. [Crosses to C. STRETCHER BEARERS enter, carrying a figure covered with blankets. LOFT crosses to below desk. CORELL crosses above table.] How badly is he hurt?

LOFT [stiffly]: I don’t know.

PRACKLE enters from bedroom and stands in doorway.

LANSER : Put him in there. [He points to bedroom L. The BEARERS exit L. with their burden. PRACKLE exits ahead of them. LANSER follows them off, HUNTER crosses to front table. CORELL crosses D.L. After a pause LANSER enters, stands at door.] Who killed him?

LOFT: A miner.

HUNTER crosses back to his drawing-board.

LANSER: Why?

LOFT: I was there, sir.

LANSER: Well, make your report, then. Make your report, dammit!

LOFT [draws himself up and says formally]: I had just relieved Captain Bentick as the Colonel ordered. Captain Bentick was about to leave to come here, when I had some trouble with a miner. He wanted to quit. When I ordered him to work, he rushes at me with his pick. Captain Bentick tried to interfere.

CORELL crosses to chair for hat, then exits U.L. LOFT turns to watch CORELL.

LANSER [crosses to C. Sternly]: You captured the man?

LOFT: Yes, sir.

LANSER [slowly crossing to fireplace, speaks as though to himself]: So it starts again. We’ll shoot this man and make twenty new enemies. It’s the only thing we know. The only thing we know.

LOFT [crossing in to C.]: What did you say, sir?

LANSER: Nothing. Nothing at all, I was just thinking. [He turns to LOFT.] Please give my compliments to Mayor Orden and my request that he see me at once.

LOFT turns, exits U.L. HUNTER, looking up, dries his inking pen carefully and puts it away in its velvet-lined box.

CURTAIN

PART ONE: SCENE III

SCENE: The same. Two days later. The disintegration of the room is under way. There is some military equipment about, but a desolateness is apparent from the arrangement of the furniture. The console table U.R. and the large painting above it have gone. The mantel is bare of dressing. The table used in Scene II has been removed. There are newspapers on the floor around the fireplace. Even the grandfather clock has been moved out. Only the MAYOR’S desk, chair and the arm-chair R. remain as we first saw them. Five chairs are pushed back against wall U.C., leaving the center of the room quite bare. Three small chairs are D.L. The light is rather cold. AT RISE: Curtain rises on an empty stage, but immediately the door R. is opened by JOSEPH, who at once turns his back and begins the manoeuvering of a large dining-room table through the door. He talks to ANNIE off-stage, who is helping with the other end of the table. The table is so large that it has been turned on its side to get it through the door at all.

 

JOSEPH [edging the legs through door]: Don’t push now, Annie. [Clears the legs.] Now push, Annie. Now—

ANNIE [appears in door at other end of table]: I am.

JOSEPH: Don’t scuff the bottom. Lift—lift on it. Steady!

ANNIE [a little angrily]: I am steady.

They manoeuver the table through the door and stand it on its legs. It is quite heavy.

JOSEPH : Now—right over here. Right in the center. [They put table in C. of room.] There!

ANNIE [truculently, as they open table for the leaves]: If His Excellency hadn’t told me to do it I wouldn’t. What’s a dining table want in here!

JOSEPH [gets leaves from U.C., takes them to table]: The Colonel wants it here. They’re going to hold some kind of a trial.

ANNIE: Why don’t they hold it down at the City Hall where it belongs?

JOSEPH: I don’t know. They do crazy things. It’s some kind of way they have. [They close table.] Look at this room. There’s no way to fix it up with their stuff all over. [Places 2 chairs from U.C. above table.]

ANNIE [as though she really doesn’t want to know; crossing D.L. for a chair]: What do they want to have a trial for?

JOSEPH: Well—there’s talk. People say there was trouble at the mine. Some kind of a fight.

ANNIE [her interest is aroused as she crosses to front table with chair]: You mean they’re going to try one of us?

JOSEPH: That’s what they say. [Places chair from U.C. at R. end table.]

ANNIE: Who?

JOSEPH [places chair from U.C. above table]: Well, they say Alex Morden got in some kind of trouble at the mine.

ANNIE [crossing D.L. for 2 chairs]: That’s Molly’s husband. He never gets in any trouble. He’s a good man. What kind of trouble could Alex get into?

JOSEPH: Well, some people say he hit a soldier. [Places chair from U.C. at L. end table.]

ANNIE [crossing to front table with 2 chairs]: It’s a time of trouble. Molly Kenderly wouldn’t have married a man who hit people. Alex is a good man. The soldiers must have done something to Alex. [Crosses to fireplace.]

JOSEPH [crossing C.]: I don’t know. Nobody seems to know what happened. I heard—[Tiptoes to door L., opens it slowly, then closes it, crosses R. to ANNIE.]—that William Deal and his wife got away last night in a little boat and I heard that somebody hit that man Corell with a rock. Everybody’s uneasy.

ANNIE [picking up papers at fireplace and sweeping up]: Uneasy. You should see my sister. Her boy Robbie got away when they killed the other soldiers. Christine thinks she knows where he’d go back in the hills, but she can’t find out if he was hurt or anything. She’s going crazy worrying. She even wanted me to ask His Excellency to try to find out. He might be hurt. I can’t ask His Excellency.

JOSEPH: I know. [MAYOR enters U.L., standing in doorway, hears himself mentioned and stops.] People in the town are worried about His Excellency. They don’t know where he stands—soldiers in his house and he hasn’t said anything. [MAYOR crosses in to L. end table.] And you know—everybody liked Corell and then he was for the soldiers. [WINTER enters U.L. and stands in doorway.] People are worried about His Excellency.

MAYOR [looking at table]: This is right. I guess this is what they want. [Crosses to desk. JOSEPH and ANNIE are caught talking about him. They are embarrassed.] You can tell anyone you see that I haven’t gone over to the enemy. I am still the Mayor.

WINTER crosses U.C. to windows.

JOSEPH [crossing C.]: We didn’t mean—

ANNIE [crossing L. to MAYOR]: Your Excellency—Christine’s boy got away. She thinks he’s in the hills and maybe hurt.

MAYOR: Does she know where he is?

ANNIE: She thinks so. About fifteen miles away in the hills. MAYOR [turns to JOSEPH]: Would you go?

JOSEPH: Yes, sir.

MAYOR: Then go tonight. And don’t let anyone see you go.

JOSEPH: Yes, Your Excellency.

ANNIE: Thank you, Your Excellency. I’ll tell Christine.

JOSEPH and ANNIE exit R. excitedly, and apparently they are going to spread the news. WINTER comes silently down and seats himself in one of the chairs above big table. MAYOR speaks out of thought.

MAYOR : I wonder how much longer I can stay in this position? Which is better—to be thrown out of control or to remain and have the people suspect me?

WINTER: Maybe you could keep control and be with the people, too.

MAYOR: I don’t know. The people don’t quite trust me and neither does the enemy.

WINTER: You trust yourself, don’t you? There is no doubt in your mind where you stand?

MAYOR : Doubt? No, I’m the Mayor. [Rises, crosses to L. end table.] I don’t understand many things. [He points to table.] I don’t know why they have to bring this trial in here. They are going to try Alex Morden here for murder. You know Alex. He has that pretty wife, Molly.

WINTER: I remember. She taught in a grammar school before she was married. Yes, I remember her. She was so pretty she hated to get glasses when she needed them. Well, I guess Alex killed an officer all right. Nobody has questioned that.

MAYOR [bitterly, as he sits chair L. of table]: Of course, no one questions it. But why do they try him? Why don’t they shoot him? We don’t try them for killing our soldiers. A trial implies right or wrong, doubt or certainty. There is none of that here. Why must they try him—and in my house?

WINTER: I would guess it is for the show. There is an idea about that if you go through the form of a thing you have it. They’ll have a trial and hope to convince the people that there is justice involved. Alex did kill the Captain. MAYOR: Yes, I know.

WINTER: And if it comes from your house, where the people have always expected justice . . .

He is interrupted by the door opening R. A young woman enters. She is about thirty, and quite pretty. She is dressed simply, neatly. She is excited. This is MOLLY MORDEN.

MOLLY [quickly, crossing in to R. end table]: Annie told me just to come right in, sir.

MAYOR [rises, looks at her]: Why, of course.

MOLLY: They say Alex will be tried and . . . shot. They say you will try him.

MAYOR [looks up quickly at WINTER]: Who says this?

MOLLY [crossing C.]: The people in the town. [She holds herself very straight. Her voice is half-pleading and half-demanding.] You wouldn’t do that, would you, sir?

MAYOR [crossing L. to desk chair]: How could the people know what I don’t know about myself?

WINTER [quietly]: That’s a mystery . . . how the people know. How the truth of things gets out.

MOLLY [coming near to him]: Alex is not a murdering man. He is a quick-tempered man. He has never broken the law. He is a respected man.

WINTER crosses to R. end of table.

MAYOR [crossing to her]: I know. [He is silent for a moment.] I’ve known Alex since he was a little boy. I knew his father and his grandfather. His grandfather was a bear hunter in the old days. Did you know that?

MOLLY [ignores his words]: You won’t sentence Alex?

MAYOR : No. How could I sentence him?

MOLLY [turns away from him]: The people said you would for the sake of order.

MAYOR [a step to her]: Do the people want order, Molly?

MOLLY [turns to him]: They want to be free.

MAYOR: Do they know how to go about it? Do they know what methods to use against this armed enemy?

MOLLY [her chin comes up]: No, sir. But I think the people want to show these soldiers that they aren’t beaten.

WINTER [crossing to fireplace]: They’ve had no chance to fight. [MOLLY looks at WINTER.] It’s no fight to go against machine guns.

MAYOR [crosses to her, takes her hand. She turns to him]: When you know what the people want to do, will you tell me, Molly?

MOLLY [looks at him suspiciously, takes away her hand, turns and moves away from him]: Yes. [Unconvincingly.]

MAYOR: You mean no. You don’t trust me.

MOLLY [defiantly, turns to him]: How about Alex?

MAYOR: I will not sentence him. He has committed no crime against our people.

MOLLY [fearfully]: Will they . . . kill Alex? [Looks at WIN - TER. He crosses to arm-chair, sits. She turns to MAYOR.]

MAYOR [stares blankly at her for a moment]: Dear child, my poor child!

MOLLY [she stands rigidly, her face very tight]: Thank you. [MAYOR comes near her.] Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me. [Crosses U.L. As she reaches door, she runs out.] Please don’t touch me! [MAYOR turns as though to follow her.]

WINTER: Let her go.

MAYOR stops. MADAME comes in door R.

MADAME [crossing C. front table]: I don’t know how I can run the house. It’s more people than the house can stand. Annie’s angry all the time.

MAYOR [turns to her]: Sara—listen to me.

MADAME [in amazement]: I don’t know what I’m going to do with Annie.

MAYOR: Hush! Sara, I want you to go to Alex Morden’s house. You know where it is. Do you understand? I want you to stay with Molly . . . while she needs you. Don’t talk; just stay with her.

MADAME: I have a hundred things—

MAYOR [a little angry]: I can’t understand you. They are going to kill Alex. [Crosses to chair R. front table, sits.] I can’t see how you can rattle on—the house—the servants—

MADAME [turns and looks at him with affection. For a moment a mask seems to drop. When she speaks it is in a kind of self-revelation that only comes in great emotion ]: Dear—I am doing what I can. There must be some to do the regular daily thing. When there is a funeral some people mourn and then there are some women in the kitchen cooking. Do you think they feel death less or do you think they know that life goes on in death, that life balances death?

MAYOR [in wonder, looks up at her]: And you do know what you are doing. [In understanding, takes her hand.] My dear—my very dear—

MADAME: I will go to Molly now. I won’t leave her. [Straightens his hair.] You need never worry about me. Whether my way is good or not—[Crossing R.]—it is my way.

MAYOR [rises, catches her hand as she passes him]: Thank you, my dear, for telling me. [He holds her for a moment, then kisses her on the cheek.]

MADAME [looking down, touches a button on his coat]: You’re going to lose this button. I’ll sew it back tonight. [Exits R., closes door.]

MAYOR [turns toward door U.L., then back to WINTER]: Doctor, how do you think Molly looked?

WINTER: She’ll be all right. Close to hysteria, I guess. But she’s good stock. Good strong stock. She’ll be all right.

LANSER [comes in stiffly U.L. He has on a new pressed uniform with a little dagger at the belt]: Your Excellency. [He glances at WINTER.] Doctor. I’d like to speak to you alone.

MAYOR: Doctor!

LANSER crosses U.R. above table.

WINTER [rises, crosses L. front of table]: Yes.

MAYOR: Will you come back to me this evening? WINTER: Well, I have a patient—

MAYOR: I have a feeling I’ll want you here with me.

WINTER: I’ll be here. [Crosses to doors U.L.] I’ll be here. [Closes doors after him, exits.]

LANSER [waits courteously. Watches door close. He looks at table and chairs arranged about it, crosses to R. end table]: I’m very sorry about this. I wish it hadn’t happened. [MAYOR faces away from LANSER.] I like you, and I respect you. I have a job to do. You surely recognize that. [MAYOR does not answer. At the end of each sentence LANSER waits for an answer, and none comes.] We don’t act on our own judgment. There are rules laid down for us. Rules made in the Capitol. This man has killed an officer.

ORDEN [slowly turns to him]: Why didn’t you shoot him then? That was the time to do it.

LANSER [crossing U.R.]: Even if I agreed with you, it would make no difference. You know as well as I that punishment is for the purpose of preventing other crimes. [Crosses to table.] Since it is for others, punishment must be publicized. It must even be dramatized. [MAYOR turns away to his desk.]

MAYOR: Yes—I know the theory—I wonder whether it works. [Sits desk chair.]

LANSER: Mayor Orden, you know our orders are inexorable. We must get the coal. If your people are not orderly, we will have to restore that order by force. [His voice grows stern.] We must shoot people if it is necessary. If you wish to save your people from hurt, you will help us to keep order. Now . . . [Crossing to above table.] . . . it is considered wise by my government that punishments emanate from the local authorities.

MAYOR [softly, rises, crosses to chair L. of table]: So . . . the people did know, they do know—[Speaks louder.] You wish me to pass sentence of death on Alexander Morden after a trial here?

LANSER: Yes. And you will prevent a great deal of bloodshed later if you will do it.

MAYOR [pulls out the chair at L. end and sits down. He seems to be the judge and LANSER the culprit. He drums his fingers on table]: You and your government do not understand. In all the world yours is the only government and people with a record of defeat after defeat for centuries, and always because you did not understand. [He pauses for a moment.] This principle does not work. First, I am the Mayor. I have no right to pass sentence of death under our law. There is no one in this community with that right. If I should do it I would be breaking the law as much as you.

LANSER: Breaking the law?

MAYOR: You killed six men when you came in and you hurt others. Under our law you were guilty of murder, all of you. Why do you go into this nonsense of law, Colonel? There is no law between you and us. This is war. You destroyed the law when you came in, and a new cruel law took its place. You know you’ll have to kill all of us or we in time will kill all of you.

LANSER: May I sit down?

MAYOR: Why do you ask? That’s another lie. You could make me stand if you wanted.

LANSER [seats himself R. end table]: No . . . I respect you and your office, but what I think—I, a man of certain age and certain memories—is of no importance. I might agree with you, but that would change nothing. The military, the political pattern I work in, has certain tendencies and practices which are invariable.

MAYOR: And these tendencies and practices have been proven wrong in every single test since the beginning of the world.

LANSER [laughing bitterly]: I, a private man—with certain memories—might agree with you. Might even add that one of the tendencies of the military mind is an inability to learn. An inability to see beyond the killing which is its job. [He straightens his shoulders.] But I am not a private man. The coal miner must be shot . . . publicly, because the theory is that others will then restrain themselves from killing our men.

MAYOR: Then we needn’t talk any more.

LANSER: Yes, we must talk. We want you to help.

MAYOR [sits quietly for a moment, then looks up smiling]: I’ll tell you what I’ll do. How many men were on the machine guns that killed our soldiers?

LANSER: About twenty.

MAYOR: Very well. If you will shoot them, I will usurp the power to condemn Morden.

LANSER: You are not serious?

MAYOR: I am serious.

LANSER: This can’t be done, you know it. This is nonsense.

MAYOR: I know it. And what you ask can’t be done. It is nonsense too.

LANSER [sighing]: I suppose I knew it. Maybe Corell will have to be Mayor after all. [He looks up quickly.] You’ll stay for the trial?

MAYOR [with warmth]: Yes, I’ll stay. Then he won’t be alone.

LANSER [looks at him and smiles sadly]: We’ve taken on a job, haven’t we?

MAYOR: Yes. The one impossible job in the world. The one thing that can’t be done.

LANSER: Yes?

MAYOR: To break man’s spirit . . . permanently. [MAYOR’S head sinks a little toward table. The room is quite dark by now.]

 

A SLOW CURTAIN

PART ONE: SCENE IV

SCENE: It is a half hour later.

The same as before. The room is fairly dark. The brackets in the little drawing-room are lighted. The room has been stripped of all its pictures, bric-a-brac and furniture, except the long dining-room table which is in the center, and 5 chairs around the table. 3 small chairs are standing against wall L. On the wall L. above where the MAYOR’S desk stood, an iron bracket has been driven into the wall and a lighted gasoline lantern hangs. The court martial is in session.

LANSER sits above table C., with HUNTER on his R. TONDER stands at attention U.R. LOFT, with a little pile of papers in front of him, sits R. end table. MAYOR sits on LANSER’S L., and PRACKLE is at L. end table. PRACKLE is doodling with his pencil. Guarding the doors U.L. and facing the audience, two GUARDS stand with bayonets fixed, with helmets on their heads. Another SOLDIER stands at door D.L. They are wooden images. And between them stands ALEX MORDEN, a big young man with a wide, low forehead, deep-set eyes and a long sharp nose. His chin is firm, his mouth sensual and wide. He is a big man, broad of shoulder and narrow of hip. In front of him his manacled hands clasp and unclasp, and make a little clink of metal. He is dressed in black trousers, a blue shirt, a dark blue tie, and a dark coat shiny with wear. LOFT is standing at his end of table, beginning to read from a paper. He reads mechanically.

 

LOFT: “When ordered back to work, he refused to go. And when the order was repeated, the prisoner attacked Captain Loft with a pickaxe. Captain Bentick interposed his body . . .”

MAYOR: Sit down, Alex. [LOFT stops reading and glances at him.] One of you guards get him a chair.

One of the GUARDS turns and hauls up a chair unquestioningly from wall L. to L.C.

LOFT: It is customary for the prisoner to stand.

MAYOR: Let him sit down. Only we will know. You can report that he stood.

LOFT [stiffly]: It is not customary to falsify reports. MAYOR: Sit down, Alex. [ALEX sits down and his manacled hands are restless.]

LOFT: This is contrary to all . . .

LANSER [looks up from writing, interrupting]: Let him sit down.

LOFT [clears throat and continues to read]: “Captain Bentick interposed his body and received a blow on the head which crushed his skull.” A medical report is appended. Does the Colonel wish me to read it?

LANSER: No need. Make it as short as you can.

LOFT [reading]: “These facts have been witnessed by several of our soldiers, whose statements are attached. This military court finds the prisoner guilty of murder and recommends the death sentence.” Does the Colonel wish me to read the statements of the soldiers?

LANSER [sighing]: No. [LOFT sits. LANSER turns to ALEX.] You don’t deny you killed the Captain, do you?

ALEX [smiling sadly]: I hit him. I don’t know that I killed him. I didn’t see him afterwards.

MAYOR and ALEX smile at each other.

LOFT [rising]: Does the prisoner mean to imply that Captain Bentick was killed by someone else?

ALEX: I don’t know. I only hit him . . . and then somebody hit me.

LANSER [wearily]: Do you want to offer any explanation? I can’t think of anything that will change the sentence, but we’ll listen.

LOFT [breaking in]: I respectfully submit that the Colonel should not have said that. It indicates that the court is not impartial. [Sits.]

LANSER [looks at MAYOR, then says to ALEX]: Have you any explanation?

ALEX [lifts right hand to gesture, and the manacle brings the left hand with it. He looks embarrassed and puts them into his lap again]: I was mad, I guess. I have a pretty bad temper and when he said I had to go to work . . . I got mad and I hit him. I guess I hit him hard. It was the wrong man. [He points at LOFT.] That is the man I wanted to hit. That one.

LANSER: It doesn’t matter who you wanted to hit. Anybody would have been the same. Are you sorry you did it? It would look well in the record if he were sorry.

Speaks aside to LOFT and HUNTER.

ALEX [puzzled]: Sorry? I’m not sorry. He told me to go to work. I’m a free man. I used to be Alderman. He said I had to work.

LANSER: But if the sentence is death, won’t you be sorry then?

ALEX [sinks his head and ponders honestly]: No. You mean would I do it again?

LANSER: That’s what I mean.

ALEX [thoughtfully]: I do not think I’m sorry.

LANSER: Put in the record that the prisoner is overcome with remorse. Sentence is automatic, you understand. The court has no leeway. The court finds you guilty and sentences you to be shot immediately. I do not see any reason to torture you with this any more. Now, is there anything I have forgotten?

MAYOR: You have forgotten me. [He stands up, pushes back his chair and steps over to ALEX.] Alexander, I am the Mayor . . . elected.

ALEX: I know it, sir. [Starts to stand, but MAYOR, hand on his shoulder, eases ALEX back into chair.]

MAYOR: Alex, these men have taken our country by treachery and force.

LOFT [rising]: Sir, this should not be permitted.

LANSER [rising]: Be silent. Is it better to hear it, or would you rather it were whispered? [Crosses U. to windows.]

MAYOR [continuing]: When the enemy came, the people were confused and I was confused. Yours was the first clear act. Your private anger was the beginning of a public anger. I know it is said in the town that I am acting with these men. I will show the town that I am not. . . . But you . . . you are going to die. [Softly.] I want you to know.

ALEX [dropping his head and then raising it]: I know it. I know it, sir.

LANSER [loudly, crossing to LOFT]: Is the squad ready? LOFT [rising]: Outside, sir.

LANSER: Who is commanding? [Crossing to fireplace.]

LOFT: Lieutenant Tonder, sir. [TONDER raises his head, and his chin is hard but his eyes are frightened. LANSER looks at his watch.]

MAYOR [softly]: Are you afraid, Alex?

ALEX: Yes, sir.

MAYOR: I can’t tell you not to be. I would be, too. And so would these . . . young gods of war.

LANSER [facing table]: Call your squad. [OFFICERS at the table rise, stand at attention.]

TONDER [crossing to LANSER]: They’re here, sir. [Crosses L. to doors U.L., then TWO SOLDIERS step to ALEX.]

MAYOR: Alex, go knowing that these men will have no rest . . . no rest at all until they are gone . . . or dead. You will make the people one. It’s little enough gift to you, but it is so. . . . No rest at all. [ALEX has shut his eyes tightly. MAYOR leans close and kisses him on the cheek.] Goodbye, Alex. [The GUARDS take ALEX by the arm and guide him. He keeps his eyes tightly closed. They guide him through the door between them. The THIRD SOLDIER and TONDER follow them out. The sound of the squad’s feet in the passageway marches on wood and out of the house. The MEN about the table are silent. Outside the snow begins to fall.] I hope you know what you are doing.

LOFT gathers his papers together. From outside come the commands “Attention! Right Face! Forward March!” and the SOLDIERS’ footsteps are heard disappearing.

LANSER: In the Square, Captain?

LOFT: In the Square. It must be public.

MAYOR: I hope you know what you are doing.

LANSER: Man, whether we know it or not, it is what must be done.

A silence falls on the room and each man listens. After ten seconds, from the distance comes the commands. “Ready! Aim! Fire!”, followed by the blast of a machine gun. MAYOR puts his hands to his forehead and fills his lungs deeply. LOFT and HUNTER sit at their places. LANSER crosses U. to his chair. As he reaches it, suddenly there is a shot outside. The glass of the window crashes inward. PRACKLE wheels about. He puts his hand to his shoulder.

HUNTER and LOFT jump away from table and draw their revolvers.

LANSER [sharply]: Rigid! [OFFICERS snap to attention; LANSER, to PRACKLE.] Are you badly hurt?

PRACKLE: My shoulder.

LANSER [crossing D. to table]: Report to the hospital!

PRACKLE: Sir! [Picks up helmet and coat, exits U.L.]

LANSER: Captain Loft!

LOFT: Sir!

LANSER: Find the man who fired that shot.

LOFT: Sir! [Picks up helmet and coat, exits U.L., running.]

LANSER to LOFT [as he goes]: There should be tracks in the snow. [From outside the commands: “Company attention! Left face! Double quick forward march!”, and the sound of running soldiers.] Major Hunter, take Lieutenant Tonder and a detail. Search every house in the town for weapons. Shoot down any resistance. Take five hostages for execution.

HUNTER: Sir! [Picks up helmet and coat, exits U.L.]

LANSER: You, Mayor Orden, are in protective custody.

MAYOR: A man of certain memories.

LANSER: A man of no memories. We will shoot five—ten—a hundred for one! [Crosses to window, then to L. end table.] So it starts again.

MAYOR [crossing to R. end table]: It’s beginning to snow.

LANSER: We’ll have to have that glass fixed. The wind blows cold through a broken window.

MAYOR: Yes, the wind blows cold!

 

CURTAIN