They Also Serve

Geoff McCubbin

Original story, TV screenplay (The Twenty Fifth of April) and stage adaption by Geoff McCubbin Copyright (c) Geoff McCubbin 2015

List of Characters

Bill:late 70s, retired school teacher, RSL office holder, and a man with strong views: his physical mobility is limited but his conversation flows more freely than ever.
Joan:mid-70s, Bill’s dutiful wife who has kept the home fires burning: while an intelligent and thoughtful person she has never had the chance to expand her horizons.
Andrew:50s, their nephew, also-ran university teacher who is trying to do the right thing both by his older relations and his daughter.
Helen:late 20s, Andrew’s daughter, as “foreman material” is a well-informed younger woman who has made her own way in the business world and the capital city environment.

Character Note

No character is meant as a caricature: the intention is to capture the attitudes of three generations, and to do so with sympathy and respect.

Sets

Action takes place on the 25th of April around 1990, in Bill and Joan’s modest house in a “generic” southern NSW country town. There are two areas on the stage, each set up with the necessary basics to suggest in the first case the living room (including a small dining table); and in the second, Joan’s kitchen, which also has a small table. The action alternates between these two areas, lit as appropriate. On the wall of the living area are sepia family portraits, one of a couple with the man wearing a 1914-18 military uniform. There is a radio in the kitchen.

Scene One: living area

Both areas are lit: BILL is sitting with a newspaper at the table, and JOAN moves back and forth into the kitchen, as she clears up after the evening meal.

Bill:

It could have been a better day…good turnout at the march, although I reckon the schools could have done a lot better…not enough kids, and what there were were a pretty scruffy lot…I don’t know about their band – I know we managed to keep in step most of the time…dah dah dah dah dah dah dah dada dah (the tune is “Long, long ago”)…I don’t know if it was all that suitable, or even if it’s a march…but I suppose they’ve got to have a go…and the whole thing was nearly ruined by that Elliott woman – she was a disgrace…

Joan:

It was a bit of a surprise, dear, yes: we’re not used to that here, are we?

Bill:

Surprise! It was unbelievable! And you’d think the Shire President could have got the guest speaker’s name right: he’s known he was coming long enough! I mean if these new Australians are going to go into public life you’d think they could take a bit more trouble to get it right…I felt down right embarrassed for old Beauchamp (pronounced Beechem): to be introduced (bad Italian accent) “and now I have much pleasure in welcoming our speaker, Wing Commander Bee-au-ooh-champ”…I ask you…

Joan:

Well, the children seemed to enjoy it.

Bill:

Oh, so they did: people these days like nothing better than seeing the heavies make fools of themselves, and Piccolo obliged them. Up there with his gold chain and all!

Joan:

But surely it didn’t really matter.

Bill:

Things have got to be got right; he should have checked – and practised, if he had any doubts.

Joan:

It was nice to see some of the people getting out – Albert for one: he was only discharged from the hospital the other day, and there he was, stepping out with the best of you.

Bill:

And so he should! With all the help he’s had since he got sick, it’s the least we could expect.

Joan:

I’m sure he appreciated it.

Joan stays and sits in the living room about here, and the kitchen area lights fade.

Bill:

That’s more than you can say for Jimmy Donoghue – he’s a dead loss if ever I saw one: he’s been given endless advice, put in touch with the right people, given the odd job, and where was he?

Joan:

Perhaps it’s better he wasn’t there… after all it’s a holiday and he mightn’t have been in the right sort of condition…

Bill:

I bet he wasn’t – and I don’t know about old Henry: he can hardly walk straight, and there he was again: he’s a bit of a worry, year after year.

Joan:

Yes, perhaps; but you know Henry still hates to miss anything.

Bill:

You can say that again! He mightn’t remember much else any more, but he still turns up. And that’s about all he ever did: I know he got a medal, but that was a long time ago.

(The door bell rings: Bill speaks on, but Joan gets up and goes out to answer it.)

Who on earth is that? He’s been a taker: we’ve put in the hard yards ever since, and he’s never even served on the committee. I don’t know.

(JOAN goes out, and BILL picks up the newspaper again. There are some excited noises off-stage, and JOAN enters with ANDREW and HELEN.)

Joan:

Bill, here’s a lovely surprise: it’s Ann’s boy Andrew, and his daughter Helen – someone I don’t think you’d even recognise – it’s so long since we’ve seen you.

Helen:

Yes, it is: I must have been about eight. I’m so glad you’re home.

Andrew:

G’day, Uncle Bill: it’s been a while: great to see you looking so well.

Bill:

(Stands, behind table) Well, hello Andrew, hello Helen: pardon me for being a bit slow: it’s been a long day.

Helen:

Hello: I’ve so been looking forward to meeting you again – it’s just so lucky we were here.

Andrew:

Helen and I both had conferences in Canberra – different ones – that finished yesterday. So we stayed on a bit – went to the march – and called in here on the way back to town.

Helen:

I wanted dad to show me round his old haunts a bit, before we went our separate ways.

Joan:

Sit down, please do: (they sit) It’s lovely to see you – but have you eaten yet?

Andrew:

Oh yes: we had tea at the Acropolis: I’m sure I’ve spilt milkshakes on the very same laminex tables. It hasn’t changed a bit.

Bill:

The Acropolis’s a bit like us: it ought to be classified by the National Trust. But it’s seen a few good times.

Helen:

Dad’s told me how much he enjoyed the times he spent with you.

Bill:

Oh, he was a bit of lad then, he was – and he and our kids got along so well.

Andrew:

We did – and it wasn’t so long ago, really! It’s a pity they’ve both moved away – like we did.

Joan:

Yes, it is: that’s the sad part of living in a small town. They both -

Bill:

We know that mother. It’s the way the country’s going. There aren’t the opportunities for young people in towns like this any more.

Joan:

They’ve both been able to -

Bill:

The Government has allowed places like this to fall apart. Neglect and discrimination, all along the line. The city gets all the attention, all the money – freeways, sportsgrounds, factories: our biggest workshops went years ago, the roads are crook, and we haven’t a decent sized shop left in the place.

Andrew:

Well, I noticed things were pretty quiet – not many shops I remember are left, and there are too many frosted windows.

Helen:

It’s still a lovely little town.

Bill:

Perhaps, yes…but it’s not what it was: there were lots more people here once: good people: did you see the war memorial in the park?

Helen:

Dad showed it to me, with all the Anzac day flowers still around. I couldn’t believe how many names were on it.

Bill:

That’s right: there are just about more men named there than live in the town these days. They go right back to the Boer War. In this place, we really did our bit, we did it when it really counted, and what I want to know is, where has it got us?

Andrew:

Yes, they certainly answered the empire’s call around here.

Bill:

And where, I say, has it got us? The only people the Government helps these days are the ones who don’t deserve it – the ones who won’t get their hands dirty. We’ve still got plenty of them – and around here, too.

Helen:

It’s not easy for young people to get jobs these days.

Bill:

I won’t have that. Any who wants to work can get something. You’ve got to be prepared to go to where the work is – to move around, to take on the hard jobs, put in the time and effort. Someone’s got to do them.

Helen:

And of course your family had to go – and ours.

Bill:

Yes, well…but not all the jobs are in the city – and you’ve done pretty well, haven’t you? Computers or something?

Andrew:

Helen’s customer support manager for Project Computers in Sydney. That’s how we’re here. She had a computer conference in Canberra and I had an education seminar. And we’ve spent the afternoon doing the old rounds here. Did you march today?

Joan:

Bill hasn’t missed a march in forty years. Even now, when he doesn’t walk as well as -

Bill:

All right mother, I’m not in a wheel chair yet. Yes, I was there.

Helen:

Were you in Papua New Guinea during the war?

Bill:

Well no, not actually: I spent a perishing long time in the Northern Territory: I was in Darwin when it kept getting bombed: that was no fun, I can tell you.

Andrew:

I’m always amazed at how little was said about that at the time -you weren’t told about it, Auntie Joan, were you?

Joan:

I was very worried, of course, but I had no idea how much was going on. I suppose the Government didn’t want to create any panic.

Helen:

That’s all very well for the Government, but surely the families…

Bill:

The Government has to make sure that everyone works together, and that won’t happen if they panic – or worse still, argue about what ought to be done. That’s what went wrong in Vietnam – you could see how all the arguing upset all we were wanted to do.

Andrew:

You remember I wasn’t happy about Australia being in on that.

Bill:

I thought you’d got over all that – all those moratoriums and demonstrations – how must the blokes over there have felt, knowing all that was going on at home? How could they have done a proper job?

Andrew:

The trouble was, Uncle, I couldn’t agree with the job they were supposed to be doing.

Helen:

I think now most Australians feel our soldiers shouldn’t have gone, don’t they? After all, the United States was intervening in what was really a civil war…

Bill:

That’s not the point, Helen. We had made a commitment then, and we ought to have been allowed to get on with it. If the politicians after Menzies and the Americans hadn’t been so pathetic it wouldn’t have turned into the shambles it was. It was pathetic, the way it all finished up.

Andrew:

That’s one of my most vivid memories – those pictures of the helicopters flapping away on the edge of ships, and just being dumped in the sea, as the Americans pulled out.

Bill:

And what an incredible waste! Sometimes I wonder whether Governments ought to be trusted with all the taxes we pay them. It always seems to get spent in the wrong way, or in the wrong place, or on the wrong people.

Helen:

People can’t always help getting into trouble. I know –

Joan:

(getting up) I think I’d better finish the washing up after tea. Would you like to help me, Helen?

Bill:

That’s a good idea, mother: and when you’ve finished you can make us a cup of tea. Go and have some woman talk, and Andrew and I can catch up on what he’s been at.

Helen:

(getting up) Yes, of course.

Andrew:

Thanks Helen; I know Auntie Joan would enjoy talking with you.

Helen:

Yes, and I can dry up

Transition to Scene Two

BILL and ANDREW settle back to talk as the living area lights fade, and as JOAN and HELEN move into the kitchen area the lights come up on that side. The men are not heard, and the attention falls on the women. HELEN sits, while JOAN gets the tea things together.

Joan:

Of course the Vietnam war was – I think you would say – a very ambivalent experience for us. From what I read, I didn’t feel happy about it, but we had a nephew in it; so it was very hard to have family discussions on the rights and wrongs while he was actually over there.

Helen:

That was your brother Ralph’s boy? I don’t think I ever met him, but I know he was drafted.

Joan:

Yes, that’s the one. He was called up for National Service, that was the scheme, they had a ballot, and if your birthday came up, then you had to go.

Helen:

It all sounds totally barbaric to me. How did Bill feel about it?

Joan:

He felt Peter was keeping up the family tradition. I mean, the country called, and you had to respond. That’s really all there was to it.

Helen:

But didn’t he wonder if there were some other important issues – I don’t suppose he had much time for conscientious objectors?

Joan:

Don’t ask about them! But really, I don’t think Bill wanted to think too much about conscription, or whether or not we should have sent soldiers over there: it was all too unsettling…too many things might change…

Helen:

You mean he didn’t want to rock the boat, or ask questions about law and order – things like that?

Joan:

That sort of thing, yes.

Helen:

But I expect when Peter got back he would have been able to help – I mean he’d been there, and he’d seen it all happening…

Joan:

Well, no: that’s another side to this whole business: Peter wouldn’t talk about it at all. Of course that made it hard when he saw Bill, and you know how much Bill is involved with the diggers’ club. I think Peter blamed him somehow for the way some of the big city clubs treated him and his friends.

Helen:

How do you mean?

Joan:

They weren’t all that welcome, or else they were looked down on; some of the old members seemed to see them as returned soldiers, second-class – like they’d been away on something less dignified, or…noble.

Helen:

That’s incredible.

Joan:

It was awful for us. Peter wouldn’t come and see us any more, and then he got married – much too soon – and I gather it didn’t work out, and other things went wrong – I know a lot of things were patched up for the Vietnam veterans, but I think it was too late for him.

Bill:

(voice from living room) Mother!

Joan:

Yes dear?

Bill:

Are you going to make us a cup of tea?

Joan:

We‘re just catching up on some news. (back to HELEN) So you see, my dear, there are some things that we don’t speak about very much. Bill has strong views about some of them, but I don’t think he’s able to look hard at some of the others.

Helen:

How do you manage to handle all that?

Joan:

Oh, I read a lot, and listen – there are some awfully good radio programs these days. I listen often when Bill is in the garden or at the club. I would have liked to have done what you’ve been able to do, but there was never the chance…the children, the war…no, it just wasn’t what one did. Are you going to do more?

Helen:

Oh, perhaps: it depends on how my job goes.

Joan:

You have to travel a lot, don’t you?

Helen:

Yes, I help people with new computers get up and running – I’ve done lots of technical stuff.

Joan:

What else would you like to do?

Helen:

Some of the humanities sort of things – arts, psychology, history and so on. The things that make people people – you know? And then again I might meet someone who could show me – you never know.

Joan:

You need a sensitive new age English professor!

Helen:

Now that might be interesting, but I don’t meet too many of those in the places I have to go for work.

Joan:

You won’t find any around here! Some of us tried to get adult education classes going once, but there weren’t enough people to keep them going. I really enjoyed what we did, though. There was the one on Australian writing– “learning about ourselves”…

Helen:

That sounds interesting.

Joan:

Oh, it was a while ago: we did “The One day of the Year” – I was thinking about it today, of course; and that other play about New Australians: “The Shifting Heart”, I think. It was so sad, the way some of the migrants were treated.

Helen:

I know, we did that play at high school. But was it really like that here?

Joan:

Well, nobody got killed. But there were quite a few migrants. Just after the war, there were “the Balts” as we called them – people from places like Latvia and Estonia. And after that there were Dutch, and Italians…

Transition to Scene Three

Attention shifts from the women in the kitchen to the men in the living room, so that while JOAN is organising the tea she is no longer heard; and the lights come up on the men.

Bill:

Oh, we had the main ceremony pretty well in hand – I mean, we’ve been doing it for long enough…but then, would you believe it, the Shire President got up to introduce the visiting speaker and totally buggered up his name. We had a lot of trouble getting this bloke – had one of those posh English names – Beauchamp – but there’s no excuse for getting it wrong.

Andrew:

That’s not the easiest one.

Bill:

Oh, I know that, and the Shire President’s Italian, but he’s up front, he’s got to make sure he gets it right.

Andrew:

Perhaps that’s not such a major disaster – not as bad anyway as the time I remember – I was still at school – and you couldn’t get a bugler or anyone to play?

Bill:

I know what you’re going to say!

Andrew:

And someone had the Last Post on a record, and Henry White put the needle down on the wrong track!

Bill:

Ow, Ow!

Andrew:

Scrape, screech, scratch…then, drum roll – brrrrrrm, then (sings) “God save our gracious Queen”…

Bill:

And then he panicked…

Andrew:

Snap, crackle, pop: “Should auld acquaintance be forgot…” (They laugh together) Well, I suppose that’s sort of “lest we forget!” But at least he got it right after that.

Bill:

That’s not one of my favourite memories.

Andrew:

Or was it “God save the King”? I forget but you know, I still haven’t forgotten the story our old primary teacher told us a dozen times about the time his father was late running to catch the train, and as he went past the park there was a band, and they started to play the National Anthem, and he had to stop and stand to attention until they’d finished, and he missed the train… Now today –

Bill:

Yes, well……… Mother! How’s the tea going?

Joan:

(from kitchen) Coming soon, dear!

Bill:

Music’s always a problem – getting someone to play, and getting the public to sing – and then there’s the school kids joining in – of course you were always in it when you were here.

Andrew:

Yes, I was – it almost seems like another life.

Bill:

Not for me it doesn’t: that’s what this place has got: continuity. There are some things people can’t be allowed to forget. I know families have to move around the country a bit, but we’ve kept things going here, and we’re not the only ones.

Andrew:

Well, yes, of course you have, and so have other people. It’s the same all over – I suppose they have the music problems too. I’ve never forgotten the time you booked a pipe band – I’d never heard bagpipes before, and I haven’t got over it yet. I seem to remember that….

JOAN and HELEN enter with the tea, and cups etc are organised, with tea served over the ensuing dialogue.

Helen:

I suppose you’ve been catching up on all the old gossip.

Bill:

You could say that: we’ve been talking about how hard it is to get proper music for a public function in a smaller town.

Joan:

I miss music very much here…

Helen:

I can imagine.

Joan:

You’ve no idea how wonderful it was when the new ABC FM station came on, so beautifully clear, and we were able to…

Bill:

Mother likes to listen to the radio a bit; can’t say I get much out of it: there’s too much claptrap and bias these days.

Andrew:

But it must make a big difference being able to get all the national programs. Do you get the SBS TV? That’s really special!

Joan:

No, we don’t have that here – but I love the wireless. A pause…this subject isn’t going any further.

HELEN indicates the two sepia portraits on the wall.

Helen:

Are these my great grandparents?

Bill:

They certainly are: that’s my mother, and my father in khaki: – I’m pretty sure that was done the day they got married. That’s the way he is in the wedding photos, anyway.

Helen:

He got married in uniform?

Bill:

Oh yes, probably the best clothes he had – but there wasn’t time to wait, especially since we lost so many at Gallipoli.

Helen:

To wait?

Bill:

Oh yes, they were needed over there, straight away. We had the big recruiting marches, starting with the Coo-ee March from Gilgandra to Sydney, then lots of others like the Kangaroo march down this way. Dad felt he had to go.

Helen:

And then your mother was on her own for three years, or whatever?

Bill:

The family looked after her all right. Now my father, he went to France: he went right through the experience with the trenches, and the mud and the gas, and he was lucky: he came home in one piece. And a lot of others he knew didn’t. I know he missed them a lot.

Helen:

But really, how did your mother cope when he went away – straight after they got married?

Bill:

Oh, she was all right – actually, my grandfather had died by then, and Nanna was on her own, so my mother looked after her – so she had something pretty useful to do. Like when I was away in the forties – you found things to do then, didn’t you mother?

Joan:

Oh, I managed pretty well, yes I did.

Andrew:

Grandpa didn’t talk much to me about it.

Bill:

Oh, he was a great speaker at our Anzac Dinners. I remember the time…

Helen:

Did he feel it was all …worthwhile?

Bill:

I beg your pardon?

Helen:

I mean what did he see as the point of it all – like perhaps you did, with Hitler in Europe and with the Japanese on the way to invade Australia?

Bill:

Well of course: he was needed – that’s why he went.

Helen:

No, but I know there were arguments in Australia then, not just about conscription, but whether it was just – a sort of trade war between England and the Germans, and not really our business.

Joan:

That’s right – a struggle between the two great empires. I heard a program about…

Bill:

No, mother: he was needed, and he went. I know some of the bog-Irish Catholics didn’t like it, but what do you expect? They just dragged some of the problems of their old country into the new one: that’s the trouble with too many migrants who come here: they bring all their baggage with them – all their prejudices, and their feuds, and they won’t let them go!

Andrew:

Well, it’s a big change for some of them…but the British had the biggest empire, didn’t they, Auntie Joan: we had a big world map on or classroom wall, and in those days it was red, more than anything else.

Bill:

It certainly was.

Andrew:

And I remember we used to have a half-holiday at school on Empire Day: there’d be a special assembly, and we’d all be given little cardboard Union Jacks to pin on our jumpers, and we all went home at lunch time…the twenty-fourth of May, wasn’t it?

Joan:

Queen Victoria’s birthday, yes.

Helen:

Well, they stopped that before I started school.

Andrew:

You missed out on the half-holiday.

Helen:

Don’t trivialise it, Dad: the whole idea sounds positively archaic.

Andrew:

I think it was supposed to remind us that we were part of something…

Helen:

Then? Then, perhaps, but not now – not really. And giving out just Union Jacks: why not the Australian flag – although I suppose we’ve even kept a Union Jack in the corner of that…

Bill:

Now wait a minute…

Joan:

Lots of Australians these days don’t come from British countries: I don’t think they’d feel that…

Bill:

Three generations of this family have fought under that flag – your grandfather, me and Peter; and so did a lot of others who never came back!

Helen:

I know, I’m sorry: I’m not criticising what any of them did; I’m just saying things have changed. They’re not the same as they were.

Bill:

Some things might have changed, but not the things that count. The things this country stands for – they’re still the same. And if they’re not I don’t know what we fought for!

Andrew:

I saw a Leunig cartoon once about the flag – he had an idea for a good flag – like he had a picture of a flagpole and sticking out from it was a sheet of rusty corrugated iron, with a couple of nail holes in it; and he said it could be our flag because – I think – it wouldn’t flop if there wasn’t any wind, and it was true blue Australian, it wouldn’t wear out, but best of all he said because most of us have fought under it…

Bill:

I don’t think that’s very funny.

Andrew:

No, of course not: I’m sorry.

Bill:

Yes, well: I mean you’ve got to draw the line somewhere, or the place will get taken over by the weirdos – like that Elliot woman at the service today. I don’t know why she came. If she planned to act like that she had no right to be there – especially on the platform.

Andrew:

What happened?

Bill:

They played the anthem, and she deliberately sat down, for God’s sake!

Helen:

You mean she sat down for “God Save the Queen”?

Bill:

She did.

Joan:

She was representing the school – the Principal was conducting the school band – but I hear she’s done a marvellous job this year with some of the more difficult children.

Bill:

That’s got nothing to do with it, mother.

Joan:

You know the Williams family – how much trouble those boys used to get into –

Bill:

She’s in a Government job, her Majesty’s Government’s job, and she’s not being paid to do that sort of thing. She won’t be on the platform next year – if she’s here next year. She ought to be sacked.

Helen:

Well I really think…

Andrew:

I think they’ll still need her at the school: good school counsellors are needed more and more these days, it seems. Ours does a fine job, anyway – but look we’re keeping you late, and if we’re going to get back to town tonight we’d better get going.

Joan:

Oh dear, do you really think so?

Andrew:

I’m on deck tomorrow, with all the catching up to do – you too, I think, Helen.

Helen:

Well…yes, it’s back to the rat race for me tomorrow, I’m afraid. It would be so much nicer to be able to work in a place like this.

Andrew:

It really is a special sort of place.

Bill:

Well, I’m glad to have caught up with a few things: good of you to drop in, and you too, young lady: I hope you do well.

HELEN shakes hands with BILL.

Helen:

Thank you: I’ll do my best. Goodnight, then.

Joan:

I’ll come out with you to the car.

JOAN and HELEN leave.

Andrew:

Goodnight, Uncle Bill; great to see you again.

Bill:

Don’t mind me not getting up. Hope it’s not so long before we see you again.

Andrew:

Oh, you never know. But we’ve all been scattered so long: it’s a pity to lose touch. That’s the way it seems to be these days, but we’ll have to do better.

Bill:

I hope so.

BILL and ANDREW shake hands, and with a couple more “goodbyes” she goes out after HELEN and JOAN. BILL reaches for his paper, and turns a few pages, until JOAN returns.

Joan:

That was so nice to see Andrew again, after so long…and to meet Helen: I hope they have a safe trip back – you can get some people who shouldn’t be on the road on a night like this.

Bill:

Yes, well…I’m glad they dropped in. Andrew’s still got some of his hippie ideas, but he’s all right – but he’s got his hands full with that daughter of his. She’s pretty bright, I’ll give her that…

Joan:

I liked her very much.

Bill:

Huh!…It’s been a long day, mother. I think I’ll go to bed.

BILL gets up, puts his paper down, and starts to move off.

Joan:

Yes, certainly dear, you go. It has been quite a day. I’ll just finish tidying up, and then I think I’ll come too.

Bill:

Goodnight.

BILL goes out.

Joan:

Goodnight, dear.

Transition to Scene Four

JOAN goes into the kitchen area, as the lights fade on the living room and come up there. Before she begins tidying up, she switches on a radio, and continues her work as the piece of music being played concludes. The music is Albinoni: Adagio in G Minor (about the last 60 seconds). As it closes she stands still, holding a cup.

Announcer's Voice:

And with that unforgettable work by Albinoni we’ve nearly finished our Anzac Day program. Many of you like me will never hear that without recalling the closing scenes of Peter Weir’s wonderful film “Gallipoli.” And now, we’ve just time to fit in some of the old digger songs: here we go!

There are a few chords on piano accordion, (or from a brass band) introducing “Pack up your troubles’ (or similar), but JOAN moves very quickly, and turns the radio off. She stands, holding the cup; the Albinoni is faded in, in the background, as she begins to weep; she slowly sinks into a chair at the kitchen table and sobs, holding her head in one hand and the empty cup in the other.

LIGHTS FADE TO BLACK.

 

END.