NOW ANOTHER DAY

A 2-ACT PLAY FOR TELEVISION

LIST OF CHARACTERS

Sergeant William Dekker	Middle forties. Guard Sergeant. Regular soldier. One of the “blood and guts” brigade. A bad-tempered, surly man who is generally disliked.
Corporal Miller	Late thirties. Guard Corporal. Dislikes Dekker and disapproves of his methods, but has to work with him and is weak enough to go along with the sergeant for the sake of harmony.
Private Carlin	Could be any age for thirty to fifty. Has spent his whole life in the army and has a weather-beaten, wrinkled face. Incapable of keeping out of trouble, his is the distinction of being the oldest private soldier in the Unit.
Private Schultz	Fresh-complexioned nineteen-year-old. One of several new recruits who have already come under Carlin’s less-than-desirable influence.
Colonel Ambrose Starke	Early sixties. The Commanding Officer of the Unit. A tall, heavily-built man, who holds himself with exaggerated military bearing. His tragedy is that he is incapable of recognising his own weaknesses and therefore attributes his failures to the persecution of others.
Julia Starke	Colonel Starke’s daughter. Middle twenties, she could be pretty were it not for a slightly faded look, the result of too long in the tropics.
Max Dorn	Middle thirties. A civilian lawyer. Attached to the Attorney-General’s office, he has been sent to Banda to investigate conditions and the measures necessary for establishing self-government.
Lt. Peter Anders	Middle twenties. A short-service engagement officer. Well-spoken and good-mannered. Rather “old-school tie”. Personal honour and integrity is very important to him.
Yanek Tan	Late forties. A Bandan, he is Banda’s foremost political figure. Leader of the Pan-Sundan League which stands for integration with Indonesia. An intelligent, forthright man. Western-educated. Passionately sincere.
Paran Sit Houseboy Dead Bandan	These three minor characters are all Bandans who physically resemble Indonesians.

ACT 1

[Before titles appear we see the following scenes]

FADE IN. Film clip. Aerial view of typical south-east Asian country: jungle and paddy fields. Sea and mountains in the distance.

SUPERIMPOSE: Title. THE ISLAND OF BANDA

CUT TO. Film clip. Town. This could be any large town between Thailand and New Guinea. Modern white stone buildings jostle native huts. Streets are thronged with people, cars, bicycles, and animals. A small troop of armed solders are seen marching.

CAPTIONS: THIS PLAY IS A WORK OF FICTION, DESCRIBING AN IMAGINARY ARMY, AND IMAGINARY EVENTS, ON A NON-EXISTENT ISLAND, AT AN UNSPECIFIED TIME IN THE PAST.

DISSOLVE TO: Army camp. Exterior. Morning. We pass through gates on either side of which armed sentries are patrolling the camp perimeter. Facing us is a narrow side of the guardhouse in which is located the door to the guardroom. The building is flat roofed, single storied, painted white. We can hear jungle sounds: bullfrogs, crickets, birds.

TRACK TOWARDS: Guardroom door and, as we get close enough to distinguish a loudspeaker above the door, this suddenly blares out the call to “reveille”.

SUPERIMPOSE TITLE: NOW ANOTHER DAY

CUT TO: Interior. Guardroom. The room is dominated by a bamboo desk, behind which is seated Sergeant William Dekker, the guard sergeant. He is checking a list bulldog-clipped to a sheet of cardboard. Behind him stands Corporal Miller, his hand poised above the playing arm of a turntable, part of an amplifying system. To his right is a door leading to the detention room. We continue to hear “reveille” playing outside. Miller lifts the amplifier playing arm and the music ceases.

DEKKER: [Tapping the list] I’ll give that pair just two minutes this morning. If they’re not here by then . . . Well, heaven help them..

MILLER: [Grinning] Heaven help them anyway. You’re being a bit tough on them, aren’t you Sarge?

DEKKER: They’ve got to learn. Schultz is still green, but Carlin should know better. Not that he’ll ever change now . . . and if Schultz insists on being influenced by him, he’ll just have to take his medicine.

There is a knock on the door and Schultz and Carlin march in, up to the desk, and stand at attention. They are dressed in denim work clothes. Schultz, a fair-haired, fresh-complexioned youth seems flustered. Carlin, ageless but wrinkled, is quite unperturbed.

CARLIN: Privates Schultz and Carlin reporting as ordered, Sergeant.

DEKKER [Turning his head and looking up at them]: What time d’you call this?

CARLIN [His face a picture of injured innocence]: Why, we came immediately reveille sounded, Sergeant.

DEKKER: It doesn’t take two-and-a-half minutes to get here from barracks.

CARLIN: An officer stopped us on the way over ‘ere.

DEKKER: Which officer?

CARLIN [Screwing his face into an even more impossibly wrinkled state in a seemingly difficult effort to remember]: You know me, Sergeant. I’ve got a shocking mem’ry for faces.

DEKKER [Grimly]: Yes, I know you, Carlin . . . I don’t suppose you got up till reveille sounded. [He suddenly turns his attention to Schultz] What about you, soldier? Do you remember the officer’s name?

SCHULTZ [Startled and clearly terrified of Dekker]: Yes, Sergeant . . . That is, no, Sergeant. I couldn’t tell . . . [His voice peters out]

DEKKER: I didn’t think you would. Okay, you two . . . You know what your first chore is. Hop to it!

CARLIN/SCHULTZ [Together]: Yes, Sergeant.

DEKKER: And report straight back here when you’ve finished. [Carlin and Schultz walk to the door] Schultz! [Schultz turns round, panic-stricken] Did you shave this morning?

Miller, who has had a barely concealed grin throughout the previous exchanges, now has to turn his face away, stifling his laughter.

SCHULTZ: Why yes, Sergeant.

DEKKER [Deadpan]: Well in future make sure you dry behind your ears.

SCHULTZ [Earnestly]: Yes, Sergeant.

Schultz and Carlin exit. Miller is no longer able to restrain his laughter.

DEKKER: That will do, Corporal.

MILLER: I’m sorry, Sarge. [Chuckling] That look on his face!

DEKKER [A smile flickers across his face] Yeah! [He gets serious again] You know what y’ve to do now.

MILLER [Unhappily]: Do you really want me to?

DEKKER [Impatiently] Let’s not go through that again!

MILLER [Turning to amplifier]: Well, I’d better –

DEKKER: I’ll see to Cookhouse . . . You get on with it.

MILLER [Resigned]: Yes, Sarge.

Miller exits as Dekker goes to amplifier and carefully places needle on second track of record. We hear the “Cookhouse” call sounding offstage.

CUT TO: Exterior. The “cookhouse” theme is blaring from loudspeakers outside the guardroom door. Camera tracks past the long wall of the guardhouse, between the guardhouse and a building running parallel to it. A plaque on this other building reveals it to be HEADQUARTERS. We pass a door at the far end of the guardhouse marked “Detention Room”. Camera continues to track beyond these buildings until we reach the Commanding Officer’s quarters. The Cookhouse call begins to fade at this point.

CUT TO: Interior. Commanding Officer’s dining room. Julia Starke, the CO’s daughter, is seated at one side of a dining table, eating breakfast. Opposite her a place is laid for the colonel and an envelope is lying unopened on the table. Colonel Starke enters, approaches his daughter and kisses her brow

STARKE: Good morning, my dear.

JULIA: Good morning, father.

Colonel Starke sits at his place and proceeds to open and read his letter. Julia claps her hands for the houseboy and then pours coffee for her father. Houseboy enters. He is a Bandan, dressed in the typical sarong, but with a white jacket buttoned to his neck.

JULIA: Bring the Colonel’s breakfast.

STARKE [reading his letter]: Dammit!

JULIA: Bad news, father?

STARKE: It’s from William. You know, General Aubert. He tells me to expect some intervention in the Pan-Sundan activities.

JULIA: But that’s good . . . [She sees his annoyed expression] Isn’t it?

STARKE: Is it, hell! [He smacks the letter] Y’know what this means? It means they can’t trust me to handle the situation. [While he is talking, the houseboy enters, places plate before Colonel, then stands back from the table. Starke suddenly becomes aware of his presence.] What are you waiting for? Clear off! I won’t have you spying on me.

JULIA [unhappy and embarrassed as houseboy, expressionless, exits]: Father . . . that was unnecessary.

STARKE: I’m sorry, my dear, but it’s always the same. Find a nice, quiet situation and Starke’s the man to fill it. The first hint of trouble and: oh, we’d better get Starke out of this . . . I wish I could find out who’s got it in for me at War Office.

JULIA: Father! You’re exaggerating!

STARKE: Am I? Strange, isn’t it, that of all my contemporaries at Staff College, I’m the only one that hasn’t made General. It’s only by the grace of God and William Aubert that they’ve condescended to call me Colonel. We’re well below battalion strength. Normally a major would be in command here. But for the last four years Banda has been reasonably quiet. So in goes Starke. And as a sop to his feelings, we’ll make him a colonel. Now . . . the moment there’s a hint of some activity . . . the chance to do a decent job . . . they take over. I’m not capable to look after things.

JULIA [disturbed]: But father, you make it sound as if someone has a personal grudge against you.

STARKE [bitterly]: What else am I to think? All my military life I’ve had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Whenever there’s been honours to be won . . . a chance to make a name for myself . . . I’ve been somewhere else at the time. Oh, I’ve never let the regiment down. I’ve just never added to its glory. Well, I used to think it was just circumstances. But lately I’ve had my doubts. Now, for the first time, it looks as if I might be in the right place at the right time. And this happens! [He glares at her] So what am I to think?

JULIA: What does General Aubert say?

STARKE: It isn’t what he says. [Shakes his head] William’s too good a soldier to jump the gun by revealing a Staff decision before I’ve had it officially. But he’s also too good a friend to let me get it cold. [He pauses, reflectively] No, it’s what he implies when he says the Government’s taking an active interest in the feelers the Nationalists are extending to the Pan-Sundan League.

JULIA: But we know about that. That’s why Mr Dorn’s here, isn’t it?

STARKE: Ah! That’s where William’s use of the word “active” is so significant. You see, Dorn was sent here to prepare a report for the Government. If they’re going to do something actively, it means they’re going to do something more than just read a report. Still . . . Dorn . . . [He pauses reflectively] It’s a thought! I wonder if he’s behind this.

JULIA: Perhaps it’s a good thing. Remember you gave them the first hint something was up.

STARKE: Yes. [He laughs sardonically] And what have they done about it? First they bring out Dorn – a civilian lawyer attached to the Attorney-General’s office. Then, not only do they expect me to give him full cooperation in preparing his report, but now it seems they’re acting on his report . . . And in all this time, not one word of comment on my suggestions for handling the situation.

JULIA [going over to her father a placing a hand on his shoulder]: Can’t you try and get a posting back home? General Aubert could pull a few strings, couldn’t he?

STARKE[scornfully]: I’m sure he could. But I’m not ready to be put out to pasture yet. My main regret is that you have to suffer in this filthy place.

JULIA: And you know how I feel about that . . . I told you when mother died: as long as I’m able to do so, I’m staying with you.

STARKE [turning round and taking her hands in his]: But you’re not getting any younger, my dear. You should be thinking of marriage and a family of your own. What chance have you got here?

JULIA [a shade guiltily]: Don’t worry about me, father.

STARKE: But that’s precisely what I am worried about. It’s one thing to be a soldier’s wife. It’s entirely different trailing from camp to camp with an old man.

JULIA [attempting to make a joke of it]: So that’s it! You want me to be a soldier’s wife so you can have a son-in-law to carry on the family tradition.

STARKE [sheepishly]: Now, my dear, don’t tease me. [Half-rising] I’d better get across to Headquarters.

JULIA [pushing him back into his chair]: You’d better finish your breakfast, you mean. You’ve already let it get cold.

CUT TO: Interior. Latrines. Typical army washroom. Wash basins, stone floor, and water closets in background. Schultz is busily engaged in scrubbing the wash basin surrounds. Carlin approaches from O.S. with a wooden board, about one metre square, which he places over a wash basin, then sits on it and proceeds to roll a cigarette. By his side a mop leans against the wash basin.

SCHULTZ [continuing to scrub hard]: Why is the sergeant so hard on us?

CARLIN [licking his cigarette paper]: Hard? You wanna thank yer lucky stars yer not a wog. Then you’d find out what hard really means.

SCHULTZ: Why? What’s he got against the Bandans?

CARLIN: They killed ‘is brother.

SCHULTZ [shocked]: The Bandans? When?

CARLIN [contemptuously]: When you were still bein’ weaned. Just after the war. When we came back to Banda. There was a lot of fightin’.

SCHULTZ: Why was that, Private Carlin?

CARLIN [pleased at being asked to air his knowledge by the more literate youngster]: Well, yer see, the Japs ‘ad given ‘em – wotchercallit? – independence. And they didn’t take too kindly to our coming back. There were quite a few of our boys killed . . . And a hell of a lot more of them. Dekker’s brother was one of the first of our lot to cop it.

SCHULTZ : And was Sergeant Dekker here too?

CARLIN: Nah! He got a postin’ later, when he heard about his brother.

SCHULTZ: But you were here, weren’t you, Private Carlin?

CARLIN [drawing on his cigarette with an air of bravado]: Yeah!

SCHULTZ [puzzled]: Well, why are we still here?

CARLIN: You don’t expect us to clear out and leave the Bandans in charge, do you? They’d be at each others throats inside twenty-four hours. It’s only us what’s keepin’ the terrorists holed up in the mountains.

SCHULTZ [his face a picture of dismay]: Oh . . .

CARLIN: Why? You got a girl back home, then?

SCHULTZ [shyly]: Yes? [He removes a photograph from inside his denims and shows it to Carlin] That’s her.

CARLIN [pulling a face]: Not bad . . . not baddertall!

SCHULTZ: We were going to get engaged this year.

CARLIN: That’s all right, son. You stick with me and she’ll find she’s traded in a boy for a man.

SCHULTZ [putting the picture away and giving a sharp flick of his rag to the wash basin]: Well, that’s that. I guess we’d better get back to the guardroom.

CARLIN [shocked]: Are you crazy? Sarge was right when he said you was wet be’ind the ears. We can’t go back yet!.

SCHULTZ: Why not, we’ve finished, haven’t we?

CARLIN [getting off the board and laying a hand on Schultz’s shoulder]: Son, get ready for a bit of army education. D’you know what’d happen if we went back now? [Schultz, puzzled, shakes his head] First they wouldn’t believe we’d done the job properly. They’d come and inspect it. Then, when they found the place spotless, they couldn’t admit they were wrong, so they’d make us do the whole flippin’ lot again. Secondly, you’d make it bad for the rest of us, finishin’ a job so quick.

SCHULTZ: What do we do, then?

CARLIN: Do? Nothing! We skive! [He takes a pack of playing cards from his pocket] How’s yer poker?

SCHULTZ: I don’t know, Private Carlin. I’ve never played. [He notes Carlin’s look of dismay and adds, eagerly] I’ve seen it at the movies, though.

CARLIN [disgustedly]: Hah! Well here’s where you get another bit of education. Got any matches?

SCHULTZ: Why, yes. [He brings a box out of his pocket]

CARLIN: Good. [He starts shuffling the pack of cards]

SCHULTZ: You know what you said before? About the fighting?

CARLIN [Still shuffling – rather expertly]: Yeah!

SCHULTZ: Well, what happened? I mean, when did the fighting stop? I’ve not seen any action since I’ve been here.

CARLIN: We got ‘em to stop fightin’ by holding an election . . . [He rubs his chin, thoughtfully] Funny thing . . . We all thought the Pan-Sundans would get in and we’d be kicked out. But nearly all the wogs voted for the other Party that wanted us to stay. The nationalists got the wind up and took to the ‘ills..

SCHULTZ [puzzled]: But aren’t the nationalists the same as the Pan-Sundans? [He copies Carlin’s pronunciation]

CARLIN: Nah! The nationalists are terrorists. You know . . . commies! The Pan-Sundans want to join up with the rest of the islands.

SCHULTZ: You mean Indonesia? I still don’t understand . . .

CARLIN [interrupting]: Look ‘ere! Are we discussin’ polerticks or playin’ cards. [He deals five cards each] C’mon . . . pick up yer ‘and.

CUT TO: Interior. Guardroom. Day. Sergeant Dekker is interrogating an aged native Bandan who is old, weak-looking, visibly terrified, dressed in sarong and sandals. Dekker is seated behind his desk, writing. The Bandan is standing, facing Dekker across the desk. Corporal Miller is standing at the side of the desk.

DEKKER [still writing and without looking up]: What’s your name?

The Bandan remains blandly unaware of the fact that Dekker is speaking to him. Miller, looking vaguely embarrassed, prods the Bandan gently and the native looks at him, puzzled.

DEKKER [still writing]: Well . . . ? You’ve got a tongue, haven’t you? [He looks up]

BANDAN [confused]: Sah?

DEKKER: Name. Your name, Charlie.

BANDAN: Name, sah?

DEKKER [gets up, walks around desk, and grabs the Bandan’s arm]: Don’t get smart with me, Charlie. Your name? What do you call yourself?

BANDAN: Paran Sit, sah.

DEKKER: Well, you’re Charlie here. Understand? [The Bandan’s eyes shift nervously, bewildered] Now . . . Why were you trying to sneak into camp?

BANDAN: Not come into camp, sah.

Dekker swings the Bandan round and pushes him into a chair. We pan guardroom doorway and see that, unknown to Dekker, Max Dorn is standing there, watching the proceedings. Behind him is Lieutenant Anders. Dorn is a civilian in his mid-thirties. He wears a light, tropical suit, in need of pressing. Anders is a clean-cut soldier in the mid-twenties. We pan back to Dekker standing over the native.

DEKKER: You’re not trying to get smart with me, are you Charlie? [He glares at the Bandan] Well, Charlie? [The Bandan shrinks back in the chair. Dekker grabs him and yanks him to his feet] And stand up when I’m talking to you, Charlie.

DORN [He has entered the room and now grasps Dekker’s arm]: Let him be, Sergeant.

DEKKER [He turns and smiles when he recognises Dorn]: Is that an order Mister Dorn?

ANDERS [from the doorway]: Yes, Sergeant. It is an order.

DEKKER [looking round and seeing Anders for the first time]: Mr Anders . . . With respect, sir, we caught this Charlie sneaking into camp.

ANDERS: We? Who’s we?

DEKKER: Corporal Miller, sir.

ANDERS: Is that so, Corporal? [Miller springs to attention, but says nothing] I wonder, Sergeant . . . I wonder if you caught him sneaking into camp or simply hanging about outside. Let him go, Sergeant.

DEKKER [obdurately]: Begging the Lieutenant’s pardon . . . I was interrogating him, sir.

ANDERS [grimly]: Yes. I saw. Let him go, Sergeant. [Shouting] That’s an order, Sergeant!

DEKKER: [resentfully]: Very good, sir.

Dekker releases the Bandan, who edges past him warily and then flees from the room.

ANDERS: I’ll have more to say about this later, Sergeant. Are you coming, Mr Dorn?

Dekker sullenly watches them leave the guardroom. The moment they are outside he kicks the chair viciously across the room.

CUT TO: Exterior. Day. Between guardhouse and headquarters building. Dorn and Anders have stopped roughly half-way between the two buildings.

DORN [angrily]: That man must be mad. Treating a Bandan like that, the way things are at present.

ANDERS: Mad? I don’t think so. Stupid, maybe.

DORN: Stupid! I’ll say! Do you realise quite how tenuous the situation is, Peter? Anything can spark it off. Even Dekker. Another few minutes and he’d have started beating that poor devil.

ANDERS: Oh, I doubt it. He’d have frightened him a bit more, that’s all. It’s happened before. None of us like Dekker, or his methods, but we tend to make excuses for him. You see his brother was killed in the insurrection just after the war.

DORN: Peter, you’re kidding yourself. I’ve met Dekkers before. They don’t need excuses. They’re strong-arm boys who have to throw their weight about. They have to keep proving something to themselves . . . God knows what!

ANDERS: You’re exaggerating the incident, Max.

DORN: Would that I were! My word! Do you know what I’ve got here? [He removes an official looking envelope from his pocket] Instructions from the Attorney-General to escort Yanek Tan back home.

ANDERS: The Pan-Sundan leader?

DORN [grimly]: None other. Pan-Sundan leader . . . and spiritual head of nine-tenths of the Bandanese people. And, incidentally, the main reason why we haven’t had a revolution here.

ANDERS: Pardon my stupidity, Max, but if what you say is true, why take him away from here?

DORN [smiling]: You’re not being stupid, Peter. You’re asking what a lot of people will soon be asking. I could give you half a dozen reasons, but . . . [he looks at his watch] I’ve a feeling Colonel Starke will be looking for me right now. [He pulls a face] Oh hell! Let’s grab a coffee in the mess.

CUT TO: Interior. Day. Colonel Starke’s office. Starke is sitting at desk, with his back to the wall. On right is a window overlooking the guardhouse. On the desk are two telephones, one with, one without a key-pad. The Colonel picks up the latter.

VOICE OVER: Yes, sir?

STARKE: Has Dorn shown up yet?

VOICE OVER: No, sir.

STARKE [irritably]: Have him come straight in when he arrives. [Starke replaces receiver and walks over to the window. Outside he can see Dorn and Anders talking. He watches them walk off together and we close on his face as his look of irritation turns to one of anger.]

MIX TO. Interior. Guardhouse. Day. We are close on Sergeant Dekker’s face, also looking angry, as he stares out of the guardoom window. We pull back and see Miller sitting on a corner of the desk. Dekker turns round.

DEKKER: What do you think you’re doing?

MILLER: Nothing, Sarge.

DEKKER: Sergeant, corporal . . . Sergeant!

MILLER [startled]: Yes, Sergeant.

DEKKER [grabbing Miller by the front of his shirt]: Then get off that desk. [He lifts him off bodily] You’re not at home now.

MILLER [fighting his annoyance]: Look, Sarge . . . Sergeant. You can’t blame me for what happened. I didn’t want to bring the chap in here. What harm does he do, hanging about outside for what he can pick up?

Miller is spared a further outburst from Dekker by the sudden ringing of the telephone. Dekker lifts the receiver.

DEKKER: Guardroom – Sergeant Dekker.

VOICE OVER: Headquarters here, Sergeant. The CO wants you.

DEKKER: In his office?

VOICE OVER: Yes. Immediately. And he said you’re to arrange for the detention room to be cleaned up.

DEKKER [replacing the telephone and glancing at clock] Those two buggers are taking their time in the latrines.

CUT TO. INTERIOR. LATRINES. DAY. Schultz and Carlin are still playing poker. Schultz has an enormous pile of matches in front of him. Carlin has very few. Carlin deals five cards each. They pick up the cards and sort them.

CARLIN [glaring at Schultz]: Well?

SCHULTZ [doubtfully]: I’m not sure . . . [He catches Carlin’s baleful glare] Oh, all right. Two matches.

CARLIN [suddenly smiling]: I’ll make that four. Okay?

SCHULTZ [hesitantly]: Yes . . . Yes, I suppose so. [He places four matches in the middle of the board]

CARLIN: How many cards?

SCHULTZ: Oh . . . er . . . three.

CARLIN [grinning]: I’m taking one. [He deals the cards] Well?

SHULTZ [still unsure]: Another two matches?

CARLIN [who has no doubts whatsoever]: Your two and another four. [Hectoring]: You gonna see me?

SCHULTZ: What? I don’t know . . . [He looks at Carlin’s face and adds hastily] Yes, I’ll see you.

CARLIN [laying down his cards with an air of triumph]: Pairs. Aces and kings.

SCHULTZ [glumly]: Well I suppose that beats me. I’ve only got three little threes.

CARLIN [staring at him, disbelief giving way to suspicion]: You sure ye’ve never played this game before?

We hear the sound of footsteps OS. Carlin lifts the board and frantically brushes the cards into the wash basin, then replaces the board and grabs mop as Corporal Miller enters.

MILLER: What’s keeping you two?

CARLIN: We’ve just this minute finished, Corp.

MILLER: Well cut across to the detention room. It’s got to be cleaned out in a hurry.

CARLIN: Right, Corporal. We’ll just put these things away and be there in two shakes.

MILLER: See you are. [He exits]

CARLIN [dropping mop and releasing an exaggerated breath]: That was a close call.

Carlin lifts up board and retrieves cards. They are dripping with water. We close on Carlin’s face, mouthing soundless obscenities.

LAP DISSOLVE TO. Interior. Colonel’s office. Day. We are close on Starke’s face. We track back and see that Starke is seated at his desk. Facing him, at attention, is Sergeant Dekker.

STARKE: I want you to take two men with you in the jeep. You’re to go to Yanek Tan’s residence and request him to accompany you back here. Is that clear?

DEKKER: Yes, sir.

STARKE: Have you arranged for the detention room to be cleaned up?

DEKKER: Yes, sir. I’ve put two fatigue wallahs on the job.

STARKE: Good. See that it’s made as comfortable as possible. A better mattress on the bed. Get a bedside lamp and radio from stores . . . and an armchair. Got that straight?

DEKKER: Sir!

STARKE: Have you any questions, Sergeant?

DEKKER: What if he won’t come, sir?

STARKE: He has no choice, Sergeant. But there’s to be no rough stuff. [Starke stands up, walks over to window and looks out] Stand at ease, Sergeant. I want you to understand this clearly. [Starke turns round and looks Dekker, now at ease, squarely in the eyes] There’s to be no violence at all. Yanek Tan’s our guest. He’s an important man. He is to be treated as such. [Then empathetically] You know what I mean?

DEKKER [attempting wide-eyed innocence, but not very successfully]: Sir . . . ?

STARKE: Yes . . . I think you know what I mean. All right, Sergeant, that’ll be all.

DEKKER [springing smartly to attention]: Yes, sir! [He salutes, about faces, and walks to the door]

STARKE: And Sergeant . . .

DEKKER [one hand on doorknob]: Sir?

STARKE: You are to bring him directly to this office.

DEKKER: Very good, sir.

Dekker opens the door and Dorn is revealed about to enter. A hard look passes between the two men before Dekker moves aside to allow Dorn to enter. Starke turns his back on Dorn and once again looks out of the window.

DORN: Do you mind if I sit down? [Starke does not answer and Dorn sits in a chair] I take it you’ve had the instructions from GHQ?

STARKE [still looking out of the window]: Yes, I’ve had the instructions.

DORN [after waiting a moment or two for Starke to continue, then deciding the Colonel has nothing to add]: Don’t you want to discuss arrangements?

STARKE: What is there to discuss?

DORN [impatiently]: Oh come, Colonel Starke, Yanek Tan’s got to be picked up. There are the details of our flight to be arranged. The official release about the reasons for his detention has to be worked out. And the necessary assurances given to the Pan-Sundan League.

STARKE [turning very slowly to face Dorn, and speaking very deliberately, obviously trying to exercise self-control]: Why should you suddenly need to consult with me? You’ve managed pretty well so far.

DORN: What does that mean?

STARKE: Come now, Dorn. Let’s not play-act. It was your idea to get Yanek Tan out of it.

DORN: I’m still not with you.

STARKE [mockingly]: You’re not with me . . . You don’t see anything wrong in taking this decision about Yanek Tan over my head.

DORN: Colonel Starke . . . I really don’t understand you at all. Just for the record, the decision about Yanek Tan has nothing to do with me, though I must say it’s a decision I heartily endorse.

STARKE [bitterly]: And you expect me to believe that?

DORN: It’s a matter of complete indifference to me what you believe. As I say, I just don’t understand you. Above all I can’t understand how this matter should even affect you.

STARKE [with a short, sardonic laugh]: Please Dorn. Let’s maintain some honesty. You know damn well how it affects me. Just as you know your entire report was a criticism of my ability to handle the situation on the island. What puzzles me, though, is who exactly is giving you your orders. I mean . . . we’ve not met before, have we? So you can’t have anything against me personally.

DORN [astounded and incredulous]: What are you talking about?

STARKE: Oh, don’t worry. I didn’t expect you to admit it. They never do. [Dorn stares at him, quite dumbfounded] And don’t worry about your precious instructions. Sergeant Dekker is out right now, picking up Yanek Tan. You’ll have your . . .

DORN [interrupting]: You mean you’ve sent that thug for Yanek Tan? Wouldn’t it have been appropriate to have sent an officer?

STARKE [raising an eyebrow]: Oh? You’ve started criticising my internal arrangements now, have you? I suppose you’ll submit a report on that too.

DORN [infuriated]: Don’t be a bloody fool. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, Colonel, but you know damn well what I object to. You know Dekker’s reputation better than I do.

STARKE [an amused look on his face]: Please let me reassure you, Mr Dorn, Sergeant Dekker had express instructions from me to refrain from any violence.

We close on Colonel Starke’s face, smiling, but a trifle grimly.

MIX TO. Interior. Guardroom. Day. Yanek Tan is seated in a chair, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief. He is a small, slim man in the late forties or early fifties, dressed in a well-cut European suit. Dekker is sitting on the corner of his desk, swinging his legs, smiling. Miller, looking unhappy, is standing beside the desk.

DEKKER: You agree, don’t you Corporal? I had to defend myself . . .

YANEK [speaking in cultured English]: Don’t worry, Sergeant. I have no intention of reporting your conduct.

DEKKER: Oh, I’m not worried. [He turns to Dekker and mimics Yanek’s accent] He has no intention of reporting my conduct. [Then to Yanek] But I insist.

YANEK [looks at Dekker with contempt]: You do not deceive me, Sergeant. You delude yourself. Your day is over. You are finished. Moribund. But you will not acknowledge the fact.

DEKKER [getting off the desk]: Ah, shut up! You make me sick with your university accent and your bloody airs.

YANEK [smiling, not intimidated by Dekker]: I know it’s hard for you to credit that a Bandan can have a mind of his own and a belief in a future of his own making.

DEKKER [putting his face close to Yanek’s]: Your future is over!

CUT TO. Interior. Starke’s office. Day. Dorn is still talking to Starke. Both men are flushed and angry. Dorn is standing. Starke is seated at his desk.

DORN: Our future here is over. When will you realise that? There’s nothing you, or I, or anyone else can do to alter that fact. The only thing we can do now is make sure we don’t lose everything in the transition. That’s why our behaviour for the next few weeks is so important. [He walks over to the window, looks out. Dekker is seen accompanying Yanek Tan from the guardhouse] Can’t you see that I’ve got nothing against you? I’ve only reported on the facts as I see them. I made no recommendations. It wasn’t in my terms of reference to do so.

STARKE: And can’t you see that I don’t believe you? How often have you consulted with me since you’ve been here?

DORN: Oh, for heaven’s sake, man! I wasn’t sent here to investigate the military situation. I have no doubt you have handled that admirably.

STARKE: Hah!

DORN: All right. Believe what you like. Stay in your little cocoon and keep it warm with distrust and self-pity. The issues at stake here are bigger than your petty worries.

STARKE: Why you . . . [he gets up and, for a moment, it looks as if he will strike Dorn, but the phone rings. He struggles with himself, briefly, fighting down his rage, then he picks up the receiver of the dial-less phone] Yes? [He continues glaring at Dorn]

VOICE OVER: Sergeant Dekker is here with Mr Yanek Tan, sir.

STARKE: Have Mr Yanek come in. Sergeant Dekker may return to the guardhouse.

VOICE OVER : Yes, sir.

Starke replaces the receiver as Yanek Tan enters. Starke sits down. Dorn shakes hand with Yanek.

DORN: It’s good to see you again, sir.

YANEK [smiling]: I hope I’m going to be able to say the same . . . Good day, Colonel.

STARKE [nodding]: Mr Yanek.

DORN [pulls up a chair]: Please sit down. [As Yanek sits, Dorn notices his cut lip] What happened to your lip?

YANEK [taking out handkerchief and dabbing at his mouth]: Nothing, Mr Dorn. A slight accident.

STARKE [half-rising and leaning across desk to look at Yanek]: Mr Yanek . . . if anything happened on your way here, you must tell me about it.

YANEK [surprised]: Why . . . ? Did you expect something to happen?

STARKE [ignoring the insinuation in Yanek’s question]: I gave express instructions to my Guard Sergeant that you were to be treated as our guest. If he disregarded my orders, it is your duty to tell me.

YANEK [smiling]: My duty? [He looks quizzically at Starke] Forgive me, Colonel, if I suggest that we may have different ideas about what constitutes duty.

STARKE [frustrated and perplexed by Yanek’s attitude]: Nevertheless Mr Yanek, you will appreciate that I have to maintain discipline here. You are not being very helpful.

YANEK: I fail to see how I am concerned in your military duties, Colonel. Furthermore I fail to understand your apparent desire to prove your sergeant guilty of a breach of discipline. I repeat, Colonel, nothing happened.

DORN [who has been following the exchange with unconcealed amusement]: If you will come with me, Mr Yanek, I will explain why you have been brought here.

Dorn moves to the door and opens it. Yanek Tan rises, bows briefly to Starke, and joins Dorn. They exit and Starke stares at them as they leave, his face a mixture of emotions, of which anger and frustration predominate. After a moment he lifts the receiver of the dial telephone and dials two digits. There is a click as the receiver is lifted at the other end.

STARKE: Sergeant Dekker?

DEKKER’S VOICE OVER: Yes?

STARKE: This is Colonel Starke.

DVO [uncertainly]: Yes, sir?

STARKE: What happened when you picked up Yanek Tan?

DVO: Happened . . . ? Nothing, sir.

STARKE: Come off it, Sergeant. You know something took place.

DVO: I don’t quite follow, sir. Did Mr Yanek say anything?

STARKE [hesitantly]: It’s what you have to say that interests me, Sergeant.

DVO: Well he did turn a bit violent, sir.

STARKE [scornfully]: He turned violent?

DEKKER [gaining confidence]: Yes, sir. For a while I thought he was going to attack me.

STARKE [his expression one of amused disbelief]: And . . . of course . . . you had to restrain him.

DEKKER: Well, yes . . . [then hurriedly] . . . I remembered what you said, though, about no strong-arm stuff.

STARKE: Thank you, Sergeant. That’s all.

We are close on the Colonel’s face as he replaces the receiver. He is thoughtful, his fingers drumming the desktop. Suddenly he seems to reach a decision and a grim smile briefly interrupts his determined expression.

DISSOLVE TO. Interior. Detention room. Day. This is a small room, with one small, barred window. Despite the armchair, bedside lamp and radio that have been added, the room is still pitifully bare. Dorn is talking to Yanek Tan.

DORN: So that’s the situation, Mr Yanek. My Government feels that the growing pressures from Indonesia may force the Nationalists to take emergency measures . . . even to the extent of taking your life . . . which would be disastrous.

YANEK: It would hardly be pleasant for me either, Mr Dorn.

DORN [smiling]: No, I suppose not. But that is why we can’t afford to take any chances, and why you will have to remain here until we leave. In the meantime I must apologise for these quarters. Unfortunately we have nothing else available and, while steps have been taken to make this room more comfortable . . . [he looks around and grimaces] It will only be for forty-eight hours. If you let me have a list of the things your require from your home, we will send for them.

YANEK: While I am not disposed to dispute your assessment of the political situation, Mr Dorn, I fail to see why I should be taken into custody like a criminal. Do you not imagine that I am as anxious as you to discuss the further of my people?

DORN: Would you have come immediately, Mr Yanek?

YANEK [spreading his hands]: But why? Surely a proper approach could have been made to me. Surely I could have been permitted the opportunity of agreeing to a date as suitable to me as to your Government. I am led to reflect that your Government has revealed a noticeable absence of concern for our feelings for several years and wonder why – suddenly – it is imperative that discussions be held! At once! And so I am arrested.

DORN [embarrassed]: Not arrested, sir. I have tried to explain. You have been taken into custody for your own protection.

YANEK [smiling]: Then I am free to leave, if I wish?

DORN: Unfortunately . . . you must realise . . . that is impossible.

YANEK [still smiling]: One day, Mr Dorn . . . some happier day . . . you must remind me to discuss with you the apparent incongruities of your Western logic.

DORN [helplessly]: You seem determined not to understand. [Sighs] I assure you we have positive evidence that you are in danger from the Nationalists.

YANEK: Oh, but I do understand. I understand very well that your Government has absolutely no self-interest in this matter. Its sole concern is my welfare. Suddenly . . . in a moment of enlightenment . . . they see it has been wrong to ignore Yanek Tan. He must be looked after. And to atone for the years of denial and frustration and neglect, not a moment must be lost. [He laughs] Of course, the new wave of nationalist activity has nothing to do with this?

DORN [angrily]: You know it has! But is it so hard to appreciate our feelings? Our people put a lot of money into Banda before the war. And they lost a hell of a lot during the war. They’re entitled to get some of it back now. In the meantime our continued investment means prosperity for your own people. New hospitals, new schools, new houses.

YANEK: I’m sure the Bandan people are truly grateful, Mr Dorn. We, of course, lost nothing during the war. We can safely discount the slaying of our men and the raping of our women.

DORN: You know that’s not what I mean, Yanek Tan. We know how you suffered under the Japanese. You personally, perhaps, most of all. It’s not our intention – has never been our intention – to add to your suffering. But haven’t your people enjoyed a higher standard of life since the war?

YANEK: Economic factors alone do not make rebels, Mr Dorn. And you of all people should know that. The starving masses in India did not rebel; they remained passive. They have never known comfort and plenty. They starved before the British came; they starved under the British; and they starve still. The rebel is the man who is denied luxuries he has previously enjoyed.

DORN: Yet you agree that the Bandanese are better off now.

YANEK: Economically perhaps. But what about politically? At the end of the war the Japanese conferred political self-sufficiency on us. You have deprived us of that independence.

DORN: You know very well why we would not acknowledge what the Japanese did. It was a desperation measure, taken when their backs were to the wall and they didn’t want a parang buried between their shoulder blades. But why id your people vote for us to remain when we held a free election?

YANEK [smiling bitterly]: Selfishness is not a prerogative of the West, Mr Dorn. The vast majority of my people depend on our rice crop for their subsistence. At the time of the election, Indonesia was desperately short of rice, and my people were afraid they would be expected to share our own meagre ration. When people are hungry, nothing is as important to them as food. But circumstances alter cases. People with well-filled stomachs begin to remember that they have other desires, other needs. [He goes over to the radio and switches it on] The benefits of your civilisation are not necessarily sufficient for the needs of my people.

The radio suddenly blares out jazz music. Yanek Tan smiles a trifle superciliously, then switches the radio off.

DORN [smiling despite himself]: Touché Mr Yanek. Why then have you not joined forces with the Nationalists? You both seem to want the same ends.

YANEK: Nationalism should not be confused with nationalists, Mr Dorn. A national pride is a very proper sentiment. It may be compared with pride of family. The Nationalist Party has no such pride. Its pride is in another nation, to which it would have us all share its allegiance.

DORN [beginning to look slightly ashamed]: Mr Yanek . . . My job here was to make a report. I’ve since been asked to accompany you back home and it is not my place to interpret, or act on, the state of affairs I have found in Banda. Nevertheless I can assure you it is the intention of my Government to honour the promises we made after the war. I would like to feel that you are at least prepared to work with us to this end.

YANEK: This is incredible! The way you people can twist expedience into benevolence. [His voice softens] You are a good man, Mr Dorn. Had we met under different circumstances . . . But there! I hope you understand why I must regard you as an enemy, and why I cannot repose any trust in your assurances. [Dorn shrugs his shoulders with an air of defeat and walks over to the door] You know, Mr Dorn, the Dutch servicemen used to have a motto on their shoulder flashes. Je maintiendrai. I will hold fast. I will hold onto what I have. But the Dutch are no longer in Indonesia. You have as much hope of holding back Banda’s political progress as of keeping out a typhoon with a mosquito net.

Dorn exits and we FADE OUT on Yanek Tan smiling wryly at Dorn’s departure.

- END OF ACT ONE -