|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 5
_Ang�lique._ (_Rubbing more_.) And there are letters on it.
_Jean-Baptiste_. Yes. It is nothing, that. One has flowers _en masse_
now, and it is time to go home. Come then, _p'tite_, drop the dirty bit
of brass and pick up your pretty flowers. _Tiens!_ Give me your hand.
I'll pull you up the side of the ditch. (_Jean-Baptiste turns as they
start_.) I forgot the thing which the grandfather told me I must do
always. (_He stands at attention_.) _Au revoir_, brave Americans. One
salutes your immortal glory. (_Exit Jean-Baptiste and Ang�lique_.)
THIRD ACT
_The scene is the same trench in the year 2018. It is eleven o'clock of
the same summer morning. Four American schoolgirls, of from fifteen to
seventeen years, have been brought to see the trench, a relic of the
Great War, in charge of their teacher. The teacher, a worn and elderly
person, has imagination, and is stirred, as far as her tired nerves may
be, by the heroic story of the old ditch. One of the schoolgirls also
has imagination and is also stirred. The other three are "young
barbarians at play." Two out of five is possibly a large proportion to
be blessed with imagination, but the American race has improved in a
hundred years_.
_Teacher_. This, girls, is an important bit of our sight-seeing. It is
the last of the old trenches of the Great War to remain intact in all
northern France. It was left untouched out of the reverence of the
people of the country for one hundred Americans of the Blank_th_
Regiment, who died here--in this old ditch. The regiment had charged too
soon, by a mistaken order, across what was called No-Man's Land, from
their own front trench, about (_consults guide-book_)--about thirty-five
yards away--that would be near where you see the red poppies so thick in
the wheat. They took the trench from the Germans, and were then wiped
out partly by artillery fire, partly by a German machine gun which was
placed, disguised, at the end of the trench and enfiladed the entire
length. Three-quarters of the regiment, over two thousand men, were
killed in this battle. Since then the regiment has been known as the
"Charging Blank_th_."
_First Schoolgirl_. Wouldn't those poppies be lovely on a yellow hat?
_Second Schoolgirl_. Ssh! The Eye is on you. How awful, Miss Hadley! And
were they all killed? Quite a tragedy!
_Third Schoolgirl_. Not a yellow hat! Stupid! A corn-colored one--just
the shade of the grain with the sun on it. Wouldn't it be lovely! When
we get back to Paris--
_Fourth Schoolgirl (the one with imagination_). You idiots! You poor
kittens!
_First Schoolgirl_. If we ever do get back to Paris!
_Teacher_. (_Wearily_.) Please pay attention. This is one of the world's
most sacred spots. It is the scene of a great heroism. It is the place
where many of our fellow countrymen laid down their lives. How can you
stand on this solemn ground and chatter about hats?
_Third Schoolgirl_. Well, you see, Miss Hadley, we're fed up with solemn
grounds. You can't expect us to go into raptures at this stage over an
old ditch. And, to be serious, wouldn't some of those field flowers make
a lovely combination for hats? With the French touch, don't you know?
You'd be darling in one--so _ing�nue!_
_Second Schoolgirl_. Ssh! She'll kill you. (_Three girls turn their
backs and stifle a giggle_.)
_Teacher_. Girls, you may be past your youth yourselves one day.
_First Schoolgirl_. (_Airily._) But we're well preserved so far, Miss
Hadley.
_Fourth Schoolgirl_. (_Has wandered away a few yards. She bends and
picks a flower from the ditch. She speaks to herself_.) The flag
floated here. There were shells bursting and guns thundering and groans
and blood--here. American boys were dying where I stand safe. That's
what they did. They made me safe. They kept America free. They made the
"world safe for freedom," (_She bends and speaks into the ditch_.) Boy,
you who lay just there in suffering and gave your good life away that
long-ago summer day--thank you. You died for us. America remembers.
Because of you there will be no more wars, and girls such as we are may
wander across battle-fields, and nations are happy and well governed,
and kings and masters are gone. You did that, you boys. You lost fifty
years of life, but you gained our love forever. Your deaths were not in
rain. Good-by, dear, dead boys.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|