Act Three
Scene One
A tent. MERCER sitting in a chair. The COLONEL enters. MERCER jumps, unsteadily, to attention.
COLONEL:
At ease, Mercer. I got a pile of papers here to organize so if you’ll just give me a second. I’ll tell you, there’s more goddamned paperwork in the Forces than I don’t know what. But if you don’t fill out the forms, you don’t get paid. So, I fill out the forms. I filled out forms all the way here. That generator make enough noise for you? Should we tape record this?
A squadron of planes take off. The noise is deafening and lasts at least a minute. COLONEL and MERCER both react to noise. The COLONEL continues talking although we can’t hear what he is saying. The noise ends.
COLONEL:
Here we go.
Reading.
I didn’t know who he was or what he was doing there. Raymond said they caught him sneaking around the camp. It’s pretty hard to say what all happened or in what order. By the time I got there, he was already pretty bad. Raymond was there and MasCorporal Fortier. The Arab was—his head was all cut and bruised and looked like his legs were bleeding too. He was tied up. Raymond hit him with his riot baton and the Arab would scream Canada Canada Canada. Raymond laughed and said they’d been training him.
Somebody had a pistol out. It was lying on the table. They untied him, the Arab, they were poking him with the batons and making him walk around. He got over by the table and reached out to the gun. I grabbed his arm and tried to take it from him. We were pulling away at each other and the gun went off. It just went off. I didn’t even know if it was loaded. I didn’t know he’d been hit. He fell down. I can’t say that I pulled the trigger. I don’t know. He fell down and then Raymond and Fortier, or one of them, checked him and said he was dead. I don’t remember much else after that.
COLONEL:
That’s your statement. As taken by Lieutenant Broman. Those are your words.
MERCER:
Yes, sir.
COLONEL:
A fight. In the sand. You walked into this, he tries to grab a gun, you fight, a mistake, the gun goes off. He dies. That’s basically what you’re saying here.
MERCER:
Yes.
COLONEL:
Mercer, I have no opinions on the subject and nothing in particular that I want to hear but you are going to tell me exactly, precisely, all the nitty-gritty little fucking details of what happened.
MERCER:
It’s pretty m-m-much … like that.
COLONEL:
That what?
MERCER:
Sir … like what you read, sir.
COLONEL:
What I read doesn’t tell me anything Mercer. Just an outline, the surface. A couple of people in a dark tent. I want you to fill in the details.
A silence.
OK, let’s start with something simple. What do you think of niggers, Mercer?
MERCER:
Sir?
COLONEL:
Niggers. What do you think of niggers? You have anything against them?
MERCER:
No sir.
COLONEL:
Pakis? Jews? Indians? You got anything against them?
MERCER:
No sir.
COLONEL:
Would you describe yourself as a racist?
MERCER:
No. I wouldn’t sir.
COLONEL:
I’m just asking because it turns out that Raymond he’s one of these White Power guys. Just want to know if you have anything to do with any of that.
MERCER:
No sir.
COLONEL:
Did you know that about Raymond? He talk to you about that at all?
MERCER:
Yes sir.
COLONEL:
He did? What did he say?
MERCER:
I don’t remember exactly sir. I never paid much attention.
COLONEL:
He talk to you about Hitler and the purity of the race thing?
MERCER:
Sometimes, sir.
COLONEL:
But you never paid much attention.
MERCER:
I always thought Hitler was an asshole, sir.
COLONEL:
You think Raymond was an asshole?
MERCER:
No sir.
COLONEL:
But you weren’t interested in that sort of thing?
MERCER:
No sir.
COLONEL:
You know if anybody else is into that stuff?
MERCER:
Can’t say, sir. Don’t know.
COLONEL:
Just Raymond then. Far as you know. What about religion?
MERCER:
Pardon me sir?
COLONEL:
I want to know what religion you are Mercer. For the forms. You NFR?
MERCER:
Yes sir.
COLONEL:
But you were brought up, what, Protestant?
MERCER:
Yes sir.
COLONEL:
You a lapsed Protestant then?
MERCER:
Sir?
COLONEL:
Just a little joke. You believe in God though Mercer?
MERCER:
Uh … haven’t given it much thought sir.
COLONEL:
You haven’t. Big idea. God. Takes some thinking. Not the kind of thing you can just decide about in a few minutes, eh Mercer. Right now though, would you say you’re atheist or agnostic? (a pause) An agnostic would be somebody who—
MERCER:
Is this for the forms sir?
COLONEL:
Just idle curiosity Mercer.
MERCER:
Right now sir, I’d have to say I’m an atheist.
COLONEL:
No faith eh? No Big Plan out there as far as you’re concerned. No Big Guy with a Big Beard.
You had any sleep?
MERCER:
No sir.
COLONEL:
You want to get some air before we start?
MERCER:
No. Thank you sir.
COLONEL:
Something to eat?
MERCER:
No sir.
COLONEL:
Coffee? Smoke? Go ahead. Do you smoke?
MERCER:
No sir.
COLONEL:
I used to. Quit. About seventeen times. You don’t want anything?
MERCER:
Not really sir.
COLONEL:
Where you from?
MERCER:
Vancouver. I’m from Vancouver, sir.
COLONEL:
Nice there. Mountains and everything.
MERCER:
Yes sir it is.
COLONEL:
Rains a lot.
MERCER:
Fair bit.
COLONEL:
Doesn’t get hot like this I bet?
MERCER:
N-n-n-o sir.
COLONEL:
Sun’s a bitch isn’t it?
MERCER:
Sir?
COLONEL:
Sun’s a bitch. Get it? Sun’s a bitch?
MERCER:
Ha. Yeah. Sun’s a bitch all right sir.
COLONEL:
Vancouver.
MERCER:
Yes sir.
COLONEL:
I was in Vancouver few years ago. Got that nice market down there on that island.
MERCER:
Granville Island?
COLONEL:
Yeah. That’s it, that’s by that goddamned clock isn’t it? That Gassy Clock thing that goes off every fifteen minutes. Screeches like air brakes. Idiot tourists all gathered round the bloody thing, taking pictures.
MERCER:
I … n-don’t know that clock sir.
COLONEL:
What part of town you live in?
MERCER:
W-w-west Vancouver, sir.
COLONEL:
What do you do there? You run around that Sea Wall thing?
MERCER:
That’s pretty far from where I live sir. Don’t do much. Used to ski a bit.
COLONEL:
Skiing. Skiing’s nice. Whistler?
MERCER:
That’s right sir.
COLONEL:
You engaged?
MERCER:
No sir.
COLONEL:
Just noticed your ring.
MERCER:
Just a ring sir.
COLONEL:
You single then?
MERCER:
Yes sir.
COLONEL:
Family out there too?
MERCER:
My father.
COLONEL:
Right. Shit, I’m sorry. Your mother passed away. I’m sorry. Recent wasn’t it?
MERCER:
Yes, sir.
COLONEL:
That’s too bad. Terrible. (pause) How’s your father taking it?
MERCER:
My father, sir?
COLONEL:
How’s he taking it? Big blow for him.
MERCER:
Yes sir.
A silence.
Wasn’t exactly a surprise sir. My m-mother’d been sick a long time.
COLONEL:
That’s always hard. Maybe better that way though. Would you say?
MERCER:
Maybe sir.
COLONEL:
Your father Mercer. What’s he do?
MERCER:
He’s in government, sir. Associate Minister, I’m not exactly sure, Department of National Defence.
COLONEL:
He’s sort of my boss, isn’t he?
MERCER:
I guess.
COLONEL:
Paul James Mercer. Born, 1939, in Gatineau, Quebec. Graduates at the age of seventeen, second in his class, from Upper Canada College. Full scholarship to McGill University. Bourassa Fellowship in Government. Law Degree at 24. Marries Susan Wainwright, 1963, a psychology MA. at McGill. First and only child, Paul Junior, born April, 1970. Susan becomes chronically depressed after the birth. Paul rises in the civil service. In 1989 is promoted to Assistant Deputy Minister with responsibility for UN Peacekeeping Operations.
Homework.
MERCER:
Yes sir.
COLONEL:
You get along with your dad Mercer?
MERCER:
Sure. Pretty much.
COLONEL:
What about your mum?
MERCER:
I did, I guess.
COLONEL:
They tell me you’re a good kid. Quiet.
Pause.
You went back for the funeral.
MERCER:
Yes sir.
COLONEL:
How was that?
MERCER:
Sir?
COLONEL:
How did you feel? At the funeral.
MERCER:
Pardon me sir?
COLONEL:
Were you upset? Did you cry?
MERCER:
No sir.
COLONEL:
No? Did you love your mother?
A silence.
COLONEL:
Mercer?
MERCER:
… Yes sir.
COLONEL:
How long was it since she’d lived with you and your father? You were what 6 or something?
MERCER:
I was n-n-nine sir.
COLONEL:
Nine. So you remember her ?
MERCER:
I remember some.
COLONEL:
What exactly?
MERCER:
I remember her. How she’d look at me sometimes, smile and then keep on looking as if she could see right through me. I remember how she cried and cried one time after coming home from the hospital, she just cried because she spilt sugar all over the place when she was trying to fill up the sugar bowl. I remember lots.
Do you want me to tell you more?
COLONEL:
No. That’s fine. Was it hard for you to come back here? After.
MERCER:
Not really, sir.
COLONEL:
How’ve you been feeling?
MERCER:
Sir?
COLONEL:
In the past while, since your mother’s death. All these things, you know, one on top of the other, would you say you’ve been under some stress?
MERCER:
I don’t know sir.
COLONEL:
Were you upset at all, in any way, by your mother’s death? Anything. I mean … Dreams or whatever. It must have been pretty tough for you in some way.
Silence.
Even if you didn’t really know her, she was your mother. I mean, it’s possible that at the time, let’s say at the funeral, you didn’t feel anything, you were in a kind of shock, but after, later, maybe weeks later, you feel something. Anything. Not quite right. Would you say that you’ve been yourself since you’ve been here?
MERCER:
I don’t know. It’s different, but …
COLONEL:
Different?
MERCER:
Well, the heat sir. And the sand. I’ve never seen anything like this. But I’m a soldier sir.
COLONEL:
What does that mean to you? Being a soldier.
MERCER:
I follow orders sir. Discipline sir. Control. Keeping the peace … fighting for what’s right.
COLONEL:
Whose orders you follow?
MERCER:
Officers’ sir.
COLONEL:
Your officers give orders to mistreat that prisoner?
MERCER:
Prisoner?
COLONEL:
The Arab, Mercer. Did you receive orders as to how to deal with him?
MERCER:
It was understood sir, that, uh, p-p-p-prisoners were to be taught a lesson.
COLONEL:
How was this understood?
MERCER:
It was sir. It just was.
COLONEL:
Did anyone in particular say anything specifically about what should be done to the prisoner?
MERCER:
I don’t think so.
COLONEL:
Let me ask you again. Who’s orders specifically do you follow?
MERCER:
Sir, my my my superiors.
COLONEL:
You always had a stutter Mercer?
MERCER:
Sir?
COLONEL:
Stutter Mercer. You always stuttered? You have problems expressing yourself?
MERCER:
No. Sir.
COLONEL:
Good. Now, where did you get this idea? Did anybody say anything to give you the impression that the prisoner was to be mal-treated in any way?
MERCER:
I don’t think so, sir.
COLONEL:
Your section commander, Sergeant Carrier? He say anything?
MERCER:
I don’t think so. No, sir.
COLONEL:
Lieutenant Broman? He say anything to that effect? You telling me this comes from higher up, Trooper?
MERCER:
I couldn’t say sir.
COLONEL:
Mercer, are you stupid or are you just pretending? You said it was understood that prisoners were to be taught a lesson.
MERCER:
I … nnmbelieve so sir.
COLONEL:
You believe so. How exactly was this understood?
MERCER:
Sir. I assumed, sir, that seeing as how—as how—mmmng—h-h—the p-prisoner was being … questioned … by the others that it was all right.
COLONEL:
A 16 year old kid Mercer. He was beaten black and blue. He was bound and beaten with a riot baton. Nine teeth broken. Two ribs cracked. Index and middle fingers of his left hand broken. Left foot crushed. Human excrement dumped on his head. Cigarette burns to forearms and pectorals and you assumed this was all right? It was understood that this was all right? Where the hell would you get that idea? You learn that in basic? You learn that in cub scouts? Your father teach you that?
Silence.
Answer the qu-qu-question Mercer.
MERCER:
No sir.
COLONEL:
You maybe aren’t seeing things too clearly. I don’t give a shit who your daddy is, he’s 11,000 kilometres away anyhow. You are up to your goddamn eyeballs in some heavy heavy shit and the only motherfucker can get you out is me so you better start playing ball. Stop trying to shit me. I’m your friend, you moron. I can help you out of this mess, but don’t you dare lie to me.
So, let’s start again. What happened in that tent?
MERCER:
It was an accident sir. The gun—
COLONEL:
Accident? What? He was burned by accident? He broke his foot by accident. Shit fell on his head by accident? Don’t jerk me around you pissy little insect. You fuck me around anymore and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that you don’t get a court-martial. You’ll get a civilian court and all kinds of press coverage and they will eat you alive. They will put you away for fucking ever. Do you understand what you’re up on? Torture. 14 years. Manslaughter, if they don’t nail you for murder. Kiss your life away.
Or maybe you’re planning to save us all the trouble. You gonna do the same as Fortier when I turn my back? You planning on hanging yourself tonight?
I’ll be honest. I look at you and Raymond and Fortier and I want to puke. You understand? You’re a mess and you haven’t even seen any action. You embarrass me. You insult the uniform, the forces, all the men who ever served. You’re no better than a handful of fucking delinquent punks. Your whole platoon is unbalanced. You’re a fucking disgrace Mercer. Combat? I wouldn’t even assign you to peacekeeping duties. Shit, I wouldn’t want you as a school crossing guard.
MERCER:
I wasn’t there the whole time. I wasn’t. They found him. They got him. Not me. I walked in on it.
COLONEL:
OK. What happened?
MERCER:
I heard all this noise, shouting, laughing, screaming like an animal. And I went in the tent. And I went in. And there was Sad—he was tied up his face all busted, bleeding and there’s blood all over his eyes and he didn’t see me. Didn’t recognize me at first. I walked in and there he was. I couldn’t nmbelieve it and I was just scared. I couldn’t figure out what the fuck was going on. I just seen him. That afternoon and—and and and unng he was fine, everything was fine, he was like always, he was like always and now there—bleeding and screaming.
I didn’t want them to know. So I tried to make a joke out of it. Raymond he said my name, he said M-m—Mercer and then he heard it, he heard my name and—saw me then. He looked and saw me and he tried to call me, name, but his lips were too swollen or his broken teeth and he couldn’t. I saw it, I saw, him trying, and he’s there crying and nothing I could do. Raymond said, “watch this” and he hit him, hit mmmmng with the riot baton and Sa—Sa … he screamed, “Ca—Ca-Canada Canada Canada” and I, that’s when I made the joke, I said, “Looks like a good trophy you got there.” And Raymond said I should try it, so so so I did. I did. I hit him. I hit him, so, because. I hit him. I didn’t know why was he there, nothing. I couldn’t believe.
Then. I don’t remember. It went on forever. It took forever. He was bleeding so much. No one came in, n-n-no officers. They said he was sneaking around the camp. He was trying to steal something. Nnmm—but that’s not true. I mean it’s not true. He came, I know why. He was curious, he was always curious. About the camp. He said he was gonna. Come. To see me. He—he—he told me before. I thought—kidding you know. I mean. I told him. He couldn’t. He couldn’t just come. I don’t think he understood really why. He was just a kid.
COLONEL:
You knew him.
MERCER:
Yes. He—he saw me. He heard my name. He try to call …
COLONEL:
He tried to call you but he couldn’t. He was too badly beaten. Right. And you were scared. You didn’t know what was going on. You were shocked to see him there.
A silence.
Mercer?
It was a terrible shock to see him there. You were frightened.
A silence.
I know, it’s a crazy fucking situation. World’s gone fucking nuts Mercer. Things aren’t what they used to be.
Canada’s going to ratshit in a handbasket. Whole country’s going to ratshit Mercer. There’s no political will.
Look at this situation, look at this.
Canada, we send our men, our equipment. What do we send? Three ships. Thirty years old. Ancient. Useless. What’s the point? Supposed to have been modernized years ago. But no, Ottawa wants to save money. Send the men in to do a job but don’t give ’em the equipment to do it with. It’s nuts. It’s criminal.
Oka. Christ what a nightmare. What a bloody nightmare. Just between you and me, right, ’cause I get the feeling you understand what I’m saying. You call in the army ’cause it’s armed insurrection right? But do you let them do anything? No. You tie their hands. And the men stand there and take the shit and get garbage thrown at them and Indians point guns at them and they can’t do anything but take it. Now, I ask you what is that? What is that Mercer? It’s shit.
Let me tell you Mercer, sometimes, sometimes I think about chucking this whole thing. Still, I’m short time now. Might as well ride it out. Pension.
Oka. Oka Oka Oka. And the press? Jesus. A field day. The liberal press. The Globe and Mail. Feminist newspaper.
You read the papers Mercer?
I had a stroke a few years ago. This side of my body doesn’t work as well as it did. I’m supposed to take it easy. Don’t know how to. Never have, don’t intend to start now. My doctor’s worried I’ll have another. My wife’s worried I’ll have a coronary. I figure when your number’s up, your number’s up. Till then you do what you gotta do.
Silence.
Shall we press on Mercer?
MERCER:
I told you. I told Lieutenant. I told everything. There’s nnnnothing more. Why? I don’t know why.
COLONEL:
I don’t care about why Mercer. Why is for psychiatrists. The fact is it happened. I need to know details, how, when, who shot him … Details.
How did you know him? How did you meet him?
MERCER:
I just did. I just met him. Sir.
COLONEL:
Where?
MERCER:
Out there.
COLONEL:
Where’s that?
MERCER:
About a mmm … a mile from the base, sir. It’s a place I go to be alone.
COLONEL:
What happened?
MERCER:
Not much. We … uuh, talked. I’m thirsty. Sir?
COLONEL:
You talked. What about?
MERCER:
Don’t remember sir. The heat. Canada.
COLONEL:
This Arab, he was just hanging—?
MERCER:
Uuumg … Sadiq.
COLONEL:
Sadiq. That’s his name?
MERCER:
Sadiq.
COLONEL:
What did you think of this Sadiq, Mercer? You liked him? You like him? He give you anything?
MERCER:
No sir. I, uh, he was selling … he he he had … these … things to sell. I bought one.
COLONEL:
What?
MERCER:
No. N-n-nothing. Just … pictures.
COLONEL:
He was selling pictures. What kind of pictures?
MERCER:
Photographs.
COLONEL:
Photographs. You interested in photography Mercer?
MERCER:
Sometimes.
COLONEL:
These photographs? (pulls out SADIQ’s envelope)
MERCER:
I don’t know why I bought it.
COLONEL:
That’s fine. I understand. You don’t have to explain that to me. It’s Jennifer isn’t it? Your girlfriend?
MERCER:
Yes sir.
COLONEL:
Been a while since you’ve seen her.
MERCER:
Yes sir.
COLONEL:
Perfectly natural. Have some water. Help yourself.
So this guy is just peddling black market goods then. He sell you anything else?
MERCER:
No. No sir.
COLONEL:
OK, so you meet this guy. He sells you some pictures. You talk. Visiting. Cultural exchange like. I’m glad you told me and nobody else needs to know about that. You’re doing real good. Just a few more questions.
MERCER:
What does it matter? Big deal? Who cares? He’s n-n-nobody. He’s only a fucking Arab. That’s what we’re here for. To kill a bunch of Arabs. He doesn’t count. He’s here illegal anyway. Who needs to know?
COLONEL:
Mercer. We all have to agree. We need to be sure about what happened that night. You understand? A lot of people back home have questions about this. They need some answers. Good answers. This isn’t just about your ass Mercer. Lot of asses on the line now.
Why did he come to the camp Mercer? What did he want?
MERCER:
I told you. He was curious. That’s all.
COLONEL:
Did he resist at all?
MERCER:
I wasn’t there when they found him. I don’t know what happened.
COLONEL:
He was shot in the back. Who shot him? It’s important Mercer.
MERCER:
I don’t know. I can’t tell you anything. It’s all mixed up. Nothing happened. I don’t know anything. It can happen like that. It gets in. It gets in, in in and you’re gone.
COLONEL:
What gets in Mercer?
Silence.
Son, I want you to know something. This is not a personal thing. It’s just the way things are done. You understand. Professional. I don’t say I approve. I say it’s unfortunate.
It’s stupid. It’s all timing. Look, this guy died at the wrong time is all. In a day or two when the war breaks out, cause it will, trust me, if this guy got killed who the fuck’d know? Who’d care? Come on. It’s fucking hypocrisy.
But there’s a few more things. A few things that have got to be cleared up. Cause Raymond says you shot him. I don’t believe him myself. But that’s what he says. It looks like, you know, he was running away and that’s why he’s shot in the back. But by the time you got there this Sadiq he was in no condition to run was he?
That’s what I thought. Why would Raymond lie to me? You think he did it?
Silence.
I’ll have to talk to Raymond some more. Tomorrow I guess.
You can’t keep it in forever Mercer.
What do you believe in? I was brought up Catholic myself. I don’t believe at all really but still I have this suspicion, a doubt you know, that maybe there’s something to all this about heaven and hell. Wouldn’t that be a fucking nightmare. If it was true? Eternity, eh. Shit.
The funeral was in a church right? Must have been strange.
What did you do while you were there? Hang out with your father? Get some skiing in? Actually, I read the psychiatrist’s report. You went to that Eddie Murphy movie the night after the funeral. What was the movie? Another 48 Hours? I hear it’s funny. Haven’t seen it myself.
You sure as shit aren’t making my job any easier Mercer.
What do you worry about Mercer?
He pulls out another envelope.
I got some other photographs here. Tell me about these. That’s Fortier there. That’s Raymond. This must be Sadiq. Who took these? Sixteen photographs here. Who took them?
Silence.
All right Mercer, you don’t want to talk? That’s OK. You can just nod your head. How’s that? You don’t have to say a word.
You took them?
MERCER nods yes.
COLONEL:
Was it your idea? Raymond’s idea?
MERCER nods yes.
COLONEL:
You sure about that?
MERCER nods.
COLONEL:
These supposed to be a joke? Like a safari or something?
MERCER shrugs.
COLONEL:
Didn’t you think? Didn’t anybody think? The last thing we need is photographic evidence of this. You took this? This one here with the baton between his teeth and Fortier pulling him by the hair. You took this one?
MERCER nods.
Was this before or after he was shot in the legs?
What about this one? Close-up of Sadiq’s face with a 9mm. Browning shoved in his mouth. You take that? You remember taking that?
MERCER nods yes.
COLONEL:
You sure? Whose hand is this in the photo Mercer?
MERCER shrugs.
COLONEL:
Look close. Recognize that hand? Course you do. It’s yours Mercer. Same ring. That’s your hand holding your Browning in the Arab kid’s mouth.
What are these pictures called? What is the common term in the regiment for this type of picture? It’s called a hero picture isn’t it? I’ve heard them described by everyone I’ve talked to as a hero picture. Picture’s worth a thousand words, eh Mercer?
What do you feel when you look at that Mercer? You get off on it? You feel anything? Nothing at all? Like at your mother’s funeral? Would you say there’s something wrong with somebody who can’t feel anything for his dead mother?
MERCER refuses to look at photo.
You getting confused Mercer, that’s it. You need to see a shrink probably. You need psychiatric care? You’re going mental like your mother, is that it?
Pause.
Where’d the camera come from?
Was it there in the tent?
MERCER shrugs.
Whose camera was it?
Silence.
Whose camera was it? Where’d you get the camera?
What the fuck do you think you’re doing Mercer? You think you’re smarter than me? What the fuck is your problem? Look at me, boy. You think you can get away with something here? You think somebody’s going to remember you did them a favour by not talking?
Produces camera.
The camera you took the photos with belongs to Martin Broman. Do you know who that is? Who is that? Would that be Lieutenant Broman? Right. Lieutenant Broman. Your Platoon Commander.
COLONEL takes photo of MERCER. Flash.
OK. We’ll put this shit away. Let’s forget all this shit for now, OK? We forget the photos, you don’t have to look at them anymore. I know it was Broman’s camera. No big deal. I’ll manage that.
It’s Broman’s fault. I know that. It’s his responsibility. And I am going to make damned sure that this whole thing gets nailed to his sorry fat pimply queer ass.
OK, look, we trade OK? I told you. You tell me. Exchange. Fair trade. Fair enough.
An extremely long silence.
Did you shoot him Mercer? I know you hit him with the baton. Tell me Mercer, did you shoot him?
You can tell me. I understand these things. I volunteered in Vietnam, Mercer. U.S. Marines. So I have seen a thing or two myself. Close-up. I understand what can happen. Trust me. Help me out Mercer.
I know you can help me. You want to help me. Because you knew him. You were practically friends. We need to know what happened Mercer, so we can do something for his family. Right?
He must have had some family. He was somebody’s kid. Sixteen, that’s just a boy. You have to tell me, Mercer. So I can do something. So I can help them. So I can help you.
Mercer, I’m going to tell you something. A story.
We had these things, M-26 fragmentation grenades. V.C. used to rig them up, delay, drop one into the gas tank of a jeep and they’d blow the whole thing up good and proper. It was like ten grenades put together when you did that. I had two friends went that way. Bert and JP, they climbed into the jeep, swung it around, Bert was leaning on the horn and I was coming up the street towards them. I was unwrapping a pack of cigarettes and reaching for my lighter and I remember so clearly because when the jeep blew I was confused, I thought that my lighter had done it, somehow. But it was a flash. I watched it blow. Saw them fly apart.
All afternoon, there’d been this kid hanging out. He was ten, maybe older, little. Ten or twelve. He stuck with us all afternoon. He was laughing, making jokes, getting beer, asking questions. All afternoon. It must have been him, slipped it in the tank. You have to wonder what the hell it takes to make a ten year old blow up a jeep. That was the day of my nineteenth birthday. Every night that week I dream about boys coming up to me selling cigarettes and when I look it’s a grenade.
It’s a week after. We’re coming upriver through these hamlets that’ve been neutralized. It’s quiet as shit. We’re tired as hell. We all just want to sit, rest, eat. We’re poking around, slow, make sure the place is secure. I’m way out on the edge of the village, pretty far from everybody else. Standing in front of a hut, it’s burned, still standing. All alone. I’m just staring at it, thinking about a shed we had out back at home that looks nothing like this one. There’s a noise. Like coughing. So in I go. Very slow. Very quiet. There’s somebody in the corner. A boy, he’s maybe ten years old. I’m so tired I think I’m dreaming, hallucinating. He gets up. He starts to get up. I put a couple of shots in his legs. He falls. Screaming gook. I just stood there looking at him Mercer. Telling myself it’s not the same kid. Then I put another one in his gut. And one more in his chest. Took him a long time to die.
Turned out he was blind. From the chemicals. Or whatever.
There was no reason to shoot him. I had no reason. He was unarmed, blind, a boy.
Just like the movies, eh Mercer? Kid goes to war, sees terrible things, ends up doing terrible things. Boo hoo. But all’s fair in love and war and ain’t it a crying shame?
Bullshit. Bull fucking shit.
It’s not that simple.
We are a part of something Mercer. Something that asks us to do certain things, expects us to do certain things. You hear what I’m saying? We follow orders right? You’ve got your orders. I’ve got mine. But we agree to follow those orders. We make decisions, Mercer. We are a part of it. Look at us here in this tent. What the fuck are we doing? What’s going on here? It’s all a flaming pile of shit Mercer. And we’re a part of it.
Mercer, listen. I made a decision when I killed that boy. I made a decision after. I became a professional soldier. I thought I’d put it behind me. I take the bus to work sometimes Mercer. But I still dream about kids with bombs for hearts.
I know.
MERCER:
I don’t think you do sir.
COLONEL:
Then I’m asking you please to tell me.
MERCER:
You can’t touch me now. Or him. Sadiq. It doesn’t matter. It’s over.
It gets in. It got in.
I kissed him. I sucked his cock. We—he. We fucked. He melted me like an explosion like a Big Blue 82. He evaporated who I was, disintegrated me. He put his hands on my stomach and that hole in my gut … he filled it up with his brown hands.
I broke his teeth. I cracked his ribs. I kissed his lips.
Put that in your report sir. There’s nothing else. That’s all. It’s over.
Jets fly by again. Landing perhaps. The COLONEL slowly packs his brief case, speaks briefly to MERCER, though, again we cannot hear what he is saying. He exits, leaving MERCER alone in the tent. The generator putt-putts then, silence.
Scene Two
MERCER in Vancouver. A phone rings and rings and rings. MERCER regards it then finally answers.
MERCER:
Hello?
Jen. Hi.
I’m OK. You know. Bit surprised. I mean, I was thinking of calling you but I wasn’t sure you’d want to. Talk to me.
Pretty fucking weird. I don’t know. I thought there’d be a lot bigger deal in the papers and that but there was hardly anything.
It was … The desert was wild.
Not much. Lying low. Watching TV. Been going for drives around. Down to the water and that. It’s nice up here. Quiet. Like always. I’ve got the house to myself.
How are you? How’s school?
Good.
I don’t know really. Just try and chill. Get my shit together. I want to go back to Germany.
I’m just trying to take it one day at a time. Getting my shit together.
Yeah well, something happened. It’s over. I have to deal with it and if other people want to be freaked out about it that’s their problem. Life goes on.
I’m not saying you. No.
A long pause.
Thanks. Thanks.
SADIQ appears.
Next week. I’m not into it right now. Coffee. Starbucks. Next week. You’re on.
OK. I’ll call you. Monday or something.
I will. Promise.
You too. Bye.
MERCER hangs up phone. He does not acknowledge SADIQ in any way.
SADIQ:
Mercer. You cannot touch me now. I am too far. You have left only pictures. Photographs. Can you see me?
I have surprise for you. Guess where I go? Not America, Mercer. I am in Sudbury. Ontario. Canada. Cold. When I come to my room it is full of clothes and parka. I am wearing my new sweater. Stanfield’s. Very nice, very warm.
In Palestine, you know, boys like me, smaller too, throw rocks. Intifada. Israeli soldiers come and break hands of boys. Some boys die. Not just boys, everyone fight. You think it is crazy but no. They have reasons for to fight in Palestine, the mothers and fathers and children and the children to come. They are fight for a home, for to survive.
You come to Qatar to Kuwait Mercer. Why? Why you fight here? Not only you, whole world. Come. Why? You do not know, you go only where they tell you.
Who tell you to hit me Mercer? Why you burn me? Do you know what reason? He break my foot, the big one, blonde hair straight. You say nothing. Do nothing. I ask why for what reason?
You are no reason. You are an animal, you Canadian peacekeeper, you are shit, a beast. If I could reach that gun, I would like to kill you and all your friends. He deserve to die, that one hang himself. You too.
You tell me of Canada and your father and you lonely and the hole in you. You hurt. You cry. Do you cry for me Mercer? Who cry for me? My family, sisters and mother and father too. But they do not matter to you. Death mean little to us you say. But no. We laugh like you. We bleed like you. We die like you. We deserve to life like you.
Now.
Now. Everything is different. The bruises and burns. They are gone. I am new again. Forgetting. Time. Not forgive. No. But I do not wish harm to you. I have only one picture of you Mercer. I see you as little boy.
When I go to base that night I tell them I am looking for a child. It is our secret.
Today, I am very hungry. I have my first donut, I sneak in the back of Tim Horton’s. Long john. I think if I am not the way I am, dead, it would make me very sick, Military Man.
I miss the sun, the heat. Here everything is clear.
End.