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Silver Linings

A Dramatic Adaptation

Scene: A dugout tidily swept and spotlessly clean, except for a small pile of dust, near which leans a broom. The sweeper has evidently gone to search for a dustpan. (Our boys at the front had to rough it—there were no vacuum cleaners there, you know—but then war is war.) A table set neatly and brightly for dinner and bearing in the centre a vase of flowers, occupies a large part of the dugout. On the left a stretcher, with a gaudy eiderdown (possibly showing Humpty-Dumpty and all the old nursery tales). On the wall there hangs a large photograph of a kind, grey-haired old lady, with an inscription beneath it, "'My Mother." The mugs on the table are probably inscribed, "A present from Clapham-on-Sea," but these cannot be read by the audience. A tall, soldierly man is sipping cocoa and looking at a map spread out on the table—it is the Stanhope of fact. There is a knock at the door (all the best dugouts had doors).

Stanhope: Come in, dear fellow!

(Enter a slight, good-looking young officer.)

Raleigh: Er-excuse me—my name's Raleigh.

Stanhope: Ah! Come in and sit down. Will you have some cocoa? Or if you prefer it, there's lemonade on the side there. We don't encourage the men to drink coffee or tea—we find it has a bad effect on them. A man who excites himself with excessive coffee-drinking is never as good a soldier as one who doesn't.

Raleigh (accepts a cup of cocoa). Thank you. (He drinks for a minute and chokes over the mixture, which is unusually strong.)

Stanhope: By the way—I was engaged to your sister once, wasn't I?

Raleigh: By Jove! I believe you were. But then, of course, you were rather a lad at home. (He titters.)

Stanhope: (His face hardens.) Now, Jimmy, old boy, I want you to get those ideas right out of your head. I used to do a lot of things at home I wouldn't do out here.

Raleigh: I say, Denis, do you remember the night you got screwed at the village pub?.

Stanhope (slowy and seriously): I shall never, never forget it I had gone very far Wrong when I came out here. The memory of that night and of the awful afternoon when I played tossapenny with the village postman will always, I hope, act as a correcting influence. When I came out here and met all these fine, brave, great-hearted fellows, I felt I couldn't pursue my wicked ways any longer. (He breaks down and sobs). And now, Jimmy, a straighter man couldn't be found in the Army.

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Raleigh: I see. I suppose I had better drop smoking, then?

Stanhope: It would be as well. (Another knock at the door.) Come in!

(Enter a robust, humorous young fellow, who smiles at Raleigh.)

Ah! Hibbert—one of the best. This is Mr. Raleigh, Algernon.

Hibbert: Very pleased to see you. I must show you my album of views of Paris buildings some time.

Stanhope: Well, I shall leave you to entertain Mr. Raleigh while I tell Mason to serve the dinner. I have a complaint to make about the way the fish was served last night. I think the parsley was a mistake, don't you?

Hibbert: Yes; I prefer fish plain, and I'd like my fish a little browner, too. Ask him if he could give us that lemon jelly again.

Stanhope: All right. Dinner in five minutes. (Exit.)

Raleigh picks bits of fluff off his uniform, while Hibbert brushes his hair in front of a cracked mirror. Enter Trotter and Osborne. Introductions and greetings. Re-enter Stanhope.

Stanhope: Oh! here you are. Did you ask the sergeant-major to step down? (Noticing the look of astonishment on Raleigh's face.) We always have the S.M. to meals here. He lacks culture, but is quite a good fellow. I believe in a spirit of camaraderie, and so we invite him down for meals.

Trotter: 'Ere 'e comes. (Enter the sergeant-major.)

Stanhope: How do you do, Sergeant-major? I felt a few drops of rain in the trenches to-day, but I think we shall have fine weather tomorrow. It so disheartens the troops if it's raining. Sit down, everybody. Mason!

(Enter Mason with the fish. He wears a chef's cap and a white apron.)

Mason: 'Ere you are, sir! The brown bit for Mr. 'Ibbert, and I've boiled a piece for Mr. Osborne.

Osborne: Ah! Thank you.

(Exit.)

They fall to and the remarks for the next few minutes are merely, "Delicious," "Good old Mason," "First-rate," etc.

(Re-enter Mason.)

Stanhope: Congratulations, Mason. Most excellently prepared. A little more pepper next time.

Mason: I do my best to give satisfaction, sir. We're short of pepper, I'm afraid.

Trotter (it is his opportunity): Well, war's bad enough with pepper, but war without pepper—it's bl—bl—blooming awful.

Stanhope (with a piercing glance): Herbert! I've forbidden you to make that remark. There's no need to be vulgar even if you are in the war. Thank you, Mason; get some more pepper as soon as possible.

Mason: Very good, sir. (Exit.)

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(Trotter leans forward and smells the flowers with a sigh of satisfaction.)

Trotter: I halways did like Lady Pilmington roses.

Stanhope: Excuse me, I believe these are George MacArthur.

(Raleigh, in bending forward to examine the roses, knocks his cup of cocoa off the table.)

Raleigh: Damn!

Stanhope, Trotter, Osborne, Hibbert, Sergeant-major (simultaneously, and rising to their feet) : Jimmy! Hush! hush! I say! Really! Sir!

Raleigh (blushing) : I'm sorry—it kind of slipped out.

Stanhope (stiffly reseating himself) : Very well, but I'd rather it didn't happen again. Please remember we are not under peace conditions out here. One officer using bad language, and the morale of the whole regiment is shaken.

Raleigh: I can only apologise most sincerely.

Stanhope: Enough-you have disgraced the British Army!! Mason—the cocoa, please.

Curtain.

—C.G.W.