All: Brown or Smith or Jones, we don’t
recall.
Narr. 1: One of the vast unknowns,
All: The cover-crop plowed under without
fame
To make our Nation’s
history…or it’s shame.
Narr. 2: I don’t know why they didn’t call him “
Or
Narr. 1: For reasons, soldier-wise, they chose the silly
Yet strangely fitting
nickname “
All: To label that big frame, man-statured, yet
boy-hearted,
Narr. 2: During their brief war-comradeship, soon parted,
That bound them in a
friendliness that filled
The aching need of love when
crisis chilled
And frosted
all the slower blooms of life.
Narr. 1: No time for deeper rootage when the
knife
Threatens
the bud.
All: When welcome “Mail Call” came
Each soldier waited tensely
for his name,
1st
Sold: Zybowski…..
Narr. 2: It meant that somewhere some one thought of him.
Each soldier explored each
word
For hidden meaning, as a
hungry bird
Searches the soil for seeds
and scattered grain…
All: Those letters bringing joy or
sudden pain
Packaged in words, sweet,
polished or uncouth,
Sold. 2: “Hey, Fellers, look! My kid’s got his first tooth!”
Narr. 1: Or, in a voice that pain made dark and hoarse,
Sold. 5: “Whaddya
know, my wife wants a divorce.”
Narr.1: Outside the circle
His name uncalled. They who fondly fingered
Letters and pictures failed
to realize
At first the stark long
hunger in his eyes,
All: The look of a lost pup, hoping
without hope
For the friendly pat, the
word, or even the
rope
of loving bondage.
Narr. 2: Birthdays brought our gang presents or socks or
books
or the homey tang of cookies, shared,
and
munched….
All: Sometimes a cake
Inch-deep with frosting such
as “mothers love
to
make”
Narr. 1: He shared the news of their families, tears or
jokes,
But never a word they heard
of his own folks.
Narr. 2:
Soon learned to share with a
pride that almost
burst
The buttons from his shirt
when a buddy cried
The old-new
boast of fatherhood.
All: He sighed
With the lovelorn in their sighings, and he kept
Secrets of
muttered talk when soldiers slept.
Narr. 1: They loved this homely, pug-nosed freckled kid
And did those awkward things
that shyly hid
Their sympathy and
helplessness that eyes reveal
In quick
unguarded moments.
Narr. 2: One gray day
When Pay Day seemed a
thousand years away
And cash was slim and
cigarettes were few,
The Sergeant told them
something that he knew,
Sold. 4: “That kid ain’t never
got a single card
Or letter since he’s
here. He takes it hard
Inside. His nineteenth birthday is today
You want to throw a
party? Whaddya
say?
All
Soldiers: (Shout) Sure!
All: Who would have dreamed that look in a
Sergeant’s eyes?
Sold. 4: “I’ll see he’s not around
until it’s time.
O. K. get
going. Here’s a buck and a lousy dime.
It’s all I got.”
Narr. 1: The word was quickly passed,
And from foot-lockers’ depths
were soon amassed
Those treasures…
All: Small themselves, so great in
giving,
That come from the days of a
soldier’s meager
living.
Sold. 5: A tube of toothpaste—only
partly squeezed—
Sold. 1: Shaving soap,
Sold. 2: A harmonica
All: (That wheezed a few bum squawks,
but added a
festive
note.)
Sold. 3: An ashtray in the form of
a rowdy goat,
Sold. 5: A handkerchief (with the
wrong initials on it),
Sold. 2: Here’s a birthday verse:
All: Far from a sonnet, but rhymed in
friendliness:
Sold. 5: Part of a carton of
smokes,
Sold. 1: A P-X cake with a candy
heart on, and one lone
candle
(Don’t ask whence it came)
Sold. 4: And a string of
jelly-beans to spell the name
And message: “Happy Birthday,
All: It certainly wasn’t elegant or
frilly
But in those barren barracks
the candle’s light
Brought
something luminous into the winter’s night.
Narr. 2: They heard his footsteps.
All: Psst! Get set. He’s coming.
Narr. 2: He froze in the door and stared. They started
singing,
Soldiers: Happy Birthday to you…
Happy Birthday to
you…
Happy Birthday,
Private
Happy Birthday to
you-u-u-u….
Narr. 1: Some things you just can’t tell. That
freckled
face went blank,
All: Then twisted in a slow grimace of
pain, so sweet
and
deep, that we could hear Almost
the trickle
of
the big round tear that welled and spilled
and
faltered down his nose, easing the spell.
Narr. 1: Their raffish shouting rose, “Happy Birthday,
you
old so-and-so. Speech! Speech!
Narr. 2: Slowly his misted eyes searched deep in each
Of their
buddy-eyes. His Adam’s apple
bobbed
in
agony.
Narr. 2: And they laughed too…and gulped.
All: In happy daze he examined one by
one the
gift
displays, saying,
don’t
know how to tell . . . . .
Narr. 1: The words blurred out. A
mighty raucous shout
Shook the bare barracks, and
until “Lights Out”
They sang. . . . .
All: Not good, but loud
and long and hearty,
Sharing in
(This poem is effective when
done as a play.)