Owen Sheers - The Two Worlds of Charlie F

A Doctor enters.

DoctorMiss Preston?

LaurenYes. That’s me.

DoctorYou’re Charles’s …

LaurenFiancée. Yes, yes, I am. Is he OK? Is he going to be all right?

DoctorWell, he’s been really put through it. But yes. He’s going to pull through.

She flings her arms around him.

LaurenOh God, thank you! Thank you so much! Can I see him?

DoctorNot yet. He’s still in surgery. But in about an hour or so, that should be fine.

The Doctor exits. Lauren roots in her bag for a cigarette.

LaurenOh thank you, thank you!

She pulls out a cigarette and is about to light it when she pauses. She looks up.

LaurenAfter this. OK? I promise. Last one.

The lights fade up on Charlie and the Psychologist upstage.

CharlieBut like I said, I don’t remember any of that. I was there, but I wasn’t.

PsychologistRight.

The faint sound of military radio chatter, the thudding of a helicopter, building through his speech.

CharlieI don’t remember waking up.

I don’t remember eating breakfast.

I don’t remember being given orders, or loading up, or leaving the compound.

I don’t remember going where we went.

I don’t remember walking through an archway, a low archway.

I don’t remember the IED going off.

None of that.

Beat.

Just that taste. Grit in the mouth. And a few sounds. I remember a few sounds.

The sounds begin to fade.

But that’s because it’s the last to go I guess. Your hearing. Your hearing’s the last to go.

The sounds fade to silence.

Fade to black.

SCENE ONE — PHYSIO

Physio room.

Classical music.

Lights come up to reveal an amputee wearing a regimental T-shirt sitting on a therapeutic ball working with his physiotherapist. Using a pair of bats they hit a bright orange balloon back and forth. Other patients enter, all wearing regimental T-shirts. Other physios also enter. They begin performing different exercises.

Charlie enters on crutches.

CharlieWelcome back. So, yeah, this is where we come afterwards. When we survive. Personally I thought I was going to Heaven. I’m not kidding, a lot of us here did. You’re floating on the morphine, you’re being medevaced into the heelo. There’s this ringing in your ears and a blue sky above you. You’ve just been blown up — where do you think you’d be going?

Turns out I was wrong though. Wasn’t Heaven. It was Selly Oak. Then here.

Beat.

It’s a bit like doing basic training again — ‘Break to build’, that’s what they told us back then. Well, we’re sure as hell broken now, aren’t we? So, plenty of building to be done. Learning drills and skills for our ‘new normal’. Our new world. Our ‘brave new world’. That has such creatures in it …

So yeah, this is, I guess, our new drill square. The physios our new PT instructors. The doctors, consultants, our majors and generals. Prosthetics, wheelchairs, meds, our new kit. The operations our, well, new operations. It’s a bit of a freak show to be honest with you. I wasn’t too happy about it at first, I mean, a few weeks ago I was a steely-eyed dealer of death. Then, wham, bam, thank you mam, and I’m in this circus. Seals on bouncy balls. In Surrey.

He looks about the arches of the set.

And very nice it is too. Big grounds, gardens, orchards, regular Downton fucking Abbey.

As Charlie takes his place in the physio room Richard enters, wearing headphones. His physio tells him to remove them.

As he does the music switches from classical to dance. The exercises begin to syncopate into a choreographed dance.

SCENE TWO — FLASHBACK

The physio dance routine is suddenly interrupted by a massive blast. A cloud of dust blows in from offstage. All the patients and physios collapse to the floor. The stage darkens. Torch beams sweep the scene as two soldiers in full combat gear, Darren and Marc, enter from the direction of the blast. They are panicked by what they see.

DarrenOh Jesus. Fuck, fuck! They’re locals!

MarcThey said it was empty!

DarrenWell, it obviously fucking wasn’t, was it?

Darren begins checking for signs of life.

MarcBut we saw them leaving! We saw them fucking leaving!

Daniel enters

DanielJesus Christ! What the fuck is this, Sobey?

DarrenWe didn’t know, sir!

DanielAny survivors?

DarrenNo sir.

MarcWe saw them leave! We saw them fucking leaving!

DanielZero two zero alpha. Civilian casualties. Wait out. Move on through. Sobey? Clear?

Darren moves to check their exit.

DarrenClear.

DanielAnderson. For fuck’s sake, Anderson!

Darren and Marc exit. Daniel remains, looking at the bodies about him. A faint musical score begins towards the end of his speech.

DanielOPTAG prepares you for most things. But there’s no training for this. Seeing it, smelling it. Which is why when some of us come back from Afghan, Afghan stays with us. Or us with it. You walk these corridors at night and, believe me, you’ll hear a bit of Afghan behind every door. Sangin … Kajaki …

He begins to move upstage, picking his way through the bodies.

Musa Qala … Nad Ali … Gereshk … Lashkar Gah … Garmsir … FOB Gibraltar … FOB Jackson … FOB Inkerman …

SCENE THREE — SLEEP

Daniel exits. The bodies remain motionless for a moment before beginning to shift and turn. As the musical score gets louder they become syncopated, repeating a sequence of movements of discomfort.

Women

It’s not re-living it. It’s living it. You’re in it. You’re there, doing it.

All

Worse at night, always worse at night. Worse at night, always worse at night.

Men

Scared. Scared to close my eyes. Scared to put my head on the pillow.

Scared. Scared to close my eyes. Scared to put my head on the pillow.

All

It’s not re-living it. It’s living it. You’re in it. You’re there, doing it.

Worse at night, always worse at night. Worse at night, always worse at night.

RichardFor two years I couldn’t sleep. Every fucking night. Just images, flicking through. Being blown up. Yanks on fire running into walls. Prodding through dead bodies in some fucking IED factory. Just all sorts of crazy shit, flicking, bouncing from one to the other. I’d be banging my head against the wall, just to take my mind off it, then … then I’m like, yeah, that fucking hurts.

JohnIt’s not re-living it. It’s living it. You’re in it. You’re there, doing it.

All

Worse at night, always worse at night. Worse at night, always worse at night.

RogerI had to stay up. I forced myself not to go to sleep. As soon as you close your eyes you see them again. All sorts of situations. Rounds going past your head. Mortars landing metres away. Bodies of kids floating downstream. And you think to yourself, why am I fucking here? Why aren’t I dead? Who’s looking after us?