The FAYTS (The Filipino American Young Turks) - ACT I, Scene I - The Meeting

ACT I

SCENE I

THE MEETING

(It's the early 1970s. The play opens with a discussion between Senators Sitan Helel and Aswang Iblis. Senator Iblis knocks on office Sitan's office door. The office is plush. Sitan sits in a large leather chair behind a large mahogany desk. An American flag and a Washington State flag stand behind the desk.)

SENATOR HELEL

Senator Iblis, welcome. Welcome!

(Hugs him.)

It's been a while.

SENATOR IBLIS

Senator Helel, got your message. You wanted to talk?

SENATOR HELEL

Have a seat.

SENATOR IBLIS

If you don't mind, I prefer to stand.

SENATOR HELEL

Please, I insist. We want a relaxing discussion…don't we?

SENATOR IBLIS

Of course, of course.

(He sits.)

 SENATOR HELEL

Aswang, I've known you for a while…at least since you were elected. Call me Sitan. We're friends.

SENATOR IBLIS

Thanks, Sitan. Glad we're on a first-name basis.

SENATOR HELEL

I heard there’ll be a vacancy in the 35^th  district. May be  an opportunity, Aswang. Control of the State Senate's in the balance. A seat or two…especially a traditionally liberal one, we'll control committees.

SENATOR IBLIS

You’re well informed,  I see.   It’d be a difficult win.   It’s very Liberal.

SENATOR HELEL

We need a candidate who's popular…someone with name familiarity. Possibly a minority. Thought you might know someone. You know those communities. Think of anyone?

SENATOR IBLIS

A few. I know an activist or two who might be persuaded.

SENATOR HELEL

Not just anyone. Someone special…untouched…new.

SENATOR IBLIS

Ben Adama comes to mind. He's Pinoy…has some interest in politics. I've known him for a while.

SENATOR HELEL

Pinoy?  What’s that?

                                                         SENATOR IBLIS

It’s slang for “Filipino”.

                                                         SENATOR HELEL

Filipino, you say?  Not derogatory.  

                                                         SENATOR IBLIS

Not at all.  Self-ascribed.

                                                          SENATOR HELEL

Sounds interesting. Another Marcos, perhaps?

SENATOR IBLIS

Doubt that. He's American born. His primary interest is local. Want me to talk with him?

SENATOR HELEL

See about this…Adama. I'd like a sense of what it would cost to bring him along. Tell him it's an opportunity to increase minority representation. We'll give him committees that'll help his district.

SENATOR IBLIS

What's the quid pro quo?

SENATOR HELEL

I expect your support.

SENATOR IBLIS

You already have it. But—

SENATOR HELEL

You need a reward. Just testing. I see you learned not to offer things gratis. Okay. Here's my deal. If he accepts and wins, I'll assign you a choice committee.

SENATOR IBLIS

Banking and Insurance. I sense future opportunities. Lots of devils in those enterprises.

SENATOR HELEL

That's a huge plum, my friend. Indeed, a very huge plum. I like your ambition. We all have dreams.

SENATOR IBLIS

If Adama wins, I'm sure there'll be bigger plums for you. You're thinking national stage. Right?

SENATOR HELEL

I don't—

SENATOR IBLIS

How badly do you want to win?

SENATOR HELEL

You drive a tough bargain, Aswang. Yes, you do. (Beat)  You know what politics is, don’t you? 

                                                          SENATOR IBLIS

The seeking of power.

                                                        SENATOR HELEL

Power’s the end game, son.   Politics are the illusions that drive the game.  Successful politicians create illusions that the public buys whether they are or aren’t served well by them.  Keep that in mind.  Now, what if—

SENATOR IBLIS

No ifs. No buts.

SENATOR HELEL

Fair enough. Fair enough.

SENATOR IBLIS

One other thing. You'll send a consultant. Right?

SENATOR HELEL

As a matter of fact…

SENATOR IBLIS

This should be an opportunity for my Dila.

SENATOR HELEL

Don't get pushy, amigo. She's far too inexperienced and headstrong. She has the looks, I admit, but this is far too important for a novice.

SENATOR IBLIS

(Stands.)

You underestimate her. She'll do well. Consider her.

SENATOR HELEL

Sit down, please. I've already decided on Mara. It's settled.

SENATOR IBLIS

(Sits.)

Seems unfair. When will you give Dila a chance? She's better prepared than you imagine.

SENATOR HELEL

Now, now, Aswang. She's at a vulnerable age. I know you love your daughter. Hell, I love mine. But you can't predict what she'll do, can you?

SENATOR IBLIS

If you don't—

SENATOR HELEL

Enough! You know how much I despise snivelers, especially those making idle threats.

Be content with what I've planned. Otherwise, I'll see you never get anywhere.

SENATOR IBLIS

Dila should be considered. When—

SENATOR HELEL

I'll decide when. I'm not confident that she can't be turned. My advice: don't beg and don't ask again. Or else. Comprende?

SENATOR IBLIS

I get it. You can't blame me for wanting my daughter to…

(He pauses as he looks at Senator Helel, who has folded his arms.)

I'll get back to you after I talk with Ben.

SENATOR HELEL

(Stands.)

Better. I understand. But I am not understanding. Do as I command.

SENATOR IBLIS

No offense—

SENATOR HELEL

That's more like it. Obedience and loyalty are important. You do agree?

SENATOR IBLIS

Yeah. I get it.

SENATOR HELEL

(Walks behind him. Puts his hand on Aswang's shoulder.)

Tell you what I'll do. I meet with Mara soon. I'll propose you challenge her in a balagtasan, a poetic debate, before the tribunal. My consideration for your loyalty. Bako Nawa, the Unholy Spirit, will serve as Lakambini…the muse. You'll have to convince him and the dwende. I'm sure you're up to the task.

SENATOR IBLIS

Agreed. Salamat po, Sitan. I'll call Ben.

SENATOR HELEL

That's more like it.   Now, let’s have a drink. 

(Pours two shots of scotch. Hands Iblis a glass.)  Returns to his seat.  Seal our deal.

SENATOR IBLIS

 (Pulls out a couple of cigars .)  Would you like to try one?  Fair trade for the scotch.

                                                         SENATOR HELEL

I will.  I will.  (Takes one and lights up.  Inhales.  Gags.)   Ugh!   Ugh!  Like setting road kill on fire!   Where did you get these?  What are they?!

                                                          SENATOR IBLIS

They’re Cremona Cubanas…what I can afford.

                                                          SENATOR HELEL

Awful.   Leaves a flavor in your throat like puke.  (Crushes his out and takes a long drink of scotch.)   And that smell…like an inch of  hell released.  Put that out…NOW!  Can’t have my office smelling cheap.  (Goes into his desk and brings out a cigar box.)  Maybe, you’d like one of these. 

                                                         SENATOR IBLIS

What are they?                                                                                  

SENATOR HELEL

Cuban Cohibas. The best.  Seventy bucks each. Illegal, you know.  Fidel had them rolled specially for him.   You know the Golden Rule:   You got the Gold.  You make the rules.

(Blows a ring.)

                                                         SENATOR IBLIS

Thanks, Sitan, but I should get going.

SENATOR HELEL

Don't know what you're missing. High flier like you, oughtta try one.

SENATOR IBLIS

Well…

(Reaches for the box.)

SENATOR HELEL

(Snaps the box closed and sets it down. Pauses.)

Well, maybe next time.  Tell you what, close the deal with Ben and I’ll toss you a few. Anyway…bad for your health.  (Beat)

We're done here.   I'll call you if I need you. Close the door when you leave.

(Senator Iblis rises slowly retreats and leaves. Sitan leans back in his chair and puffs on his cigar. Laughs evily and snorts.  Picks the butt of Iblis’s cigar from the ashtray.) 

Could be useful someday.

 Lights down. Scene ends.)

Pajaro Beach

We return along Pajaro Beach.

Our footprints   

     diverge along the shore.

For a while, you drift away.

     Stop occasionally to wade the water

Or collect sand dollars.

I, on the other hand, wander ahead

  witnessing sandpipers and plover

scurry before receding waves

  retreating to the returning wash.

In time, our footprints merge.

   Haven't they always!

The FAYTS - The Filipino American Young Turks, my full length play inspired by Bob Santo's political campaign for State Senate in the early '70s is set for publication in a few weeks.  The play will be published by CreateSpace and is in final edits.  The following is a synopsis of the play.   I recently placed 8th in the 82nd National Play Script Competition held by Writers Digest.

The FAYTs (Filipino American Young Turks)

by

Robert Francis Flor

                                                                  PLAY SYNOPSIS 

The FAYTS traces the ambitions of a group of young, Seattle-area Filipinos during the

early seventies who seek to empower and raise the stature of Filipinos through the

political process.  When a State Senate seat opens in their progressive district, Ben

Adama, the protagonist, declares his interest.

A community activist, Ben has surrounded himself with a group of loyal friends, known

as the Filipino American Young Turks (The FAYTS).   His skeptical, reluctant, but

otherwise supportive wife, Ava,  agrees to take manage the family while he pursues his

political dream.

Ben and his friends lack the financial capability for a campaign.  Sensing an opportunity,

Sitan Helel, a powerful conservative Senator, sends forth Aswang Iblis, another Senator

and friend to  the FAYTs to recruit Ben.  Through Aswang, Helel offers Ben and

substantial financial support and consultants. Mara Hukluban, a beautiful, intelligent,

young woman and daughter of Sitan is assigned as consultant.  But, she and others are not

as they appear.

The FAYTs was inspired by an actual political campaign.  It explores questions of good

and evil, loyalty and the price of ambition though the use of mythology and folklore,

primarily Filipino in genesis.  Characters morph between real and mythic worlds in this

play that pits personal ambition and power against ideals and family.

Photos from the Past

Vince Matsudaira friended me on Facebook this morning.  Growing up, "Binko", his nickname, was my best friend.  We stood together in the photo, his family house on 16th Avenue in the background.  Further behind was Providence Hospital on the adjoining block.   We were probably around eleven or twelve years old.  I wore a plaid shirt and rolled jeans; Vincent, a plain blue shirt and khakis.

The picture evoked a string of memories.  Spring and summers, one of us would ricochet a tennis ball off the steps  leading to his house.  It would fly into the street where the other would field it.  This provided an inexpensive form of baseball.  Other times, we stood across the street from each other tossing s a hardball, pretending we were Seattle Rainiers.

Sixteenth Avenue filled with Filipino and Japanese families who attended Maryknoll Church and later grade school at Immaculate Conception.  Older, the girls would continue high school at Immaculate while the boys would continue on at O'Dea, Garfield, Franklin. A few would leave the area.

Kids filled the neighborhood playing touch football (curb to curb, telephone pole to telephone pole).  The teams usually were comprised of three or four players.  When we were younger, we'd divide up to play kick-the-can or capture the flag, designating telephone poles at either end of the street as fortresses to be protected.

Cherry Street, the east-west street at the north end of the block provided a steep slope.  It didn't have today's traffic..  We constructed sleds made of two-by-fours held together with a bolt to form a cross-shape.  Disassembled roller skates provided the wheels for the front and the rear and a rope attached to either end of the crossing arm, the steering mechanism.   A plywood seat nailed to the wood frame served as the seat.  Starting at the top of the hill, we'd careen down Cherry between 15th and 16th without a care in mind.

Winter months brought snow...much deeper than present day.  It often got two to three feet deep.  Like other kids, we had snowball fights, built snowmen and trudged to school in the cold.  But weekends filled with fun.   Instead of the roller skate, gravity-propelled sleds of spring and summer, we dragged our snow sleds, cardboard boxes or anything that would slide to the top of Cherry Street and slid down the hill.

A second picture showed Vincent and a flock of kids celebrating his birthday in his family's backyard. We gathered around as he was blowing out the candles on his cake.  His mom an avid gardener had a small fishpond constructed in the shape of two connecting ovals.  Where the ovals connected, she bridged them with a small artful log.   She filled it with goldfish and waterlilies.

The pond served us well.  We constructed small plywood hydroplanes, probably six or seven inches in length.  We inserted a paddle held by rubber bands, which when wound tight, powered the boats across the water.    We painted, numbered and named them after our favorite boats of those times...Slo-Mo-Shun IV, Hawaii Kai or Bardahl and raced them across the water.

If we weren't racing, we built plastic warships...replications of aircraft carriers, battleships...destroyers that fought in World War II.  We'd load them with firecrackers and the battle would begin.  Launching them out over the pond, they'd explode into a million fragments, sinking quickly to the bottom.  Then we'd buy and build more.

During Seafair, the Navy brought a small fleet of ships into Elliott Bay and we'd tour.  It was a short bus ride to downtown which gave us access to movie theaters like the Coliseum, Orpheum and Music Hall.  There were also a two neighborhood theaters, the Venetian on 15th and Pike and the Madrona, on about 25th and Cherry.  The Madrona played two cowboy movies on Saturdays including a cartoon and newsreel.   The cost of admission was probably a dime.  Not like today.

Bus routes 12 E. Cherry and 26th South also provided access to Mount Baker, our favorite beach.  Mt. Baker was the top attraction.   To get there, we'd transfer to the 27 Yesler or the 4 Mount Baker.   If we rode the latter, we could run the length of a park with a creek full with dragonflies and water bugs, tennis courts and a few Japanese stone temples before we reached the beach.  When the Matsudaira's purchased a new '57 Ford, Joe Matsudaira and Ed Beltran would drive a bunch of us down for a swim.
They were older.

Dog Blog: Notes on Walk

I walk Cooper and Bella through my old Central Area neighborhood where I grew up.   Cooper’s a young shepherd and Bella, a white-faced setter.   Our walks weave the streets as I talk with them about the grade school and Immaculate Church I attended.  On the way, we pass the nun’s house, now a multi-family apartment. 

We turn north along 16^th Avenue and I continue with stories of trick or treating from Jefferson to Union Streets.  Reaching Spring, we descend to 15^th where the City installed a small park.  

Bella rests a moment as she’s older and panting.  Cooper patiently searches the grass knowing her companion needs a short break.  I give each a treat.

I diverted from the route one day and took them down to Seattle University where they play  the grass across from the St. Ignatious Chapel.  Catalina and I  married there three years ago in July.  We’re only two days from our anniversary. The dogs love the area where we held a family and friends picnic after rehearsal.

We cross 12^th and heading across Columbia near the Langendorff Bakery.  I’ll leave a note describing this to their owners.  The day after, I get a return note telling me that my descriptions are providing a history of the area.  I’m encouraged to mention several personages like Judge Richard Jones and Charlie Greene  who grew up close by.

Normally, I take the dogs over to Union Street and we climb to 17^th where a block of elegant, old apartments still survive.  They are as beautiful as I recall from the time I attended kindergarten at T.T. Minor across from them.  I remind Cooper and Bella that as a paperboy, I’d pick up my papers in a still-standing garage in the alley behind them.

We’re on our way back to the house as we travel southward to Columbia.  New townhouses wedge

between older remodels.  The neighborhood has been face-lifted and current residents breathe new life into the urban setting.  Tenants garden the curb medians so they fill with hollyhock, daisies, tomatoes, climbing peas and vegetable and flower assortments.  I’m told the neighborhood banded

together to create bee pathways.  An interesting urban concept encouraging the continuation of life.

Tanagas

Passage

Wisteria weeps walkway.


I immerse in its perfume,


fragrance of my loneliness.

There was little left to say.

Symphony for One

An elderly Chinese woman
wearing a great coat 
strolls past in Lincoln Park.  

Her head arches over music sheaves,

she carries in one hand. 

With the finger of the other, she etches air, 
silently conducting a symphony.

It’s a cool September morning, made cooler
by shadows on the high bluff.
An audience of red Madronas bends to listen.
Wind choruses through branches.
Beyond Puget Sound's sand and rocky shore  
the distant Olympics crest in harmony.
I pause in wait for the aria.

Empty Chair

Rich, Dale and I gather awaiting Roy.

We sun in window seats at Geraldine’s,

a favorite breakfast spot.

We share our old-man stories.

Speak of families, graduations

and children moving on.

We wander familiar political paths, 

wade and wind intrigues.

We tell travel stories about Arizona and Hawaii.

Little is said of sports, his specialty.

We fall silent. Roy cannot join us.  

His words:

They’re reviewing my cancer treatment.

“Go ahead without me.”

The FAYTs (Filipino American Young Turks) - Ben's Monologue

The following excerpt is from The FAYTs, my play about the ambitions of a group of young Seattle-area Filipinos and, in particular, Ben Adama as they seek political power.   The monologue in the form of a campaign speech is given by Ben at his kickoff for State Senate.  It was developed to explore his character...his wants...needs...strengths...weaknesses.

THE KICKOFF

(A crowd of supporters has gathered at campaign headquarters.  Cheerful music plays loudly in the background.  It lowers when John and Ben rise to the stage and stand in front of the podium.   He and John are dressed in sport coats.   Mara dresses sexily in a short, red dress and high heels.  She wears a pearl necklace. She stands off to the side.)

(The crowd itself dresses casually.  A small table with wine, cheese, crackers etc. Is available in the back.  People stand around eating and drinking.  There are a few members of the press.  Political signs dot the walls.  A welcome and sign-in-table around which a small line has formed  by the doorway.  The table is staffed by a few supporters. Ava is not present.  The music lowers.)

JOHN

Welcome to the Kickoff for our friend Ben Adama who’s running for State Senate.  You’ve known Ben as a friend, a neighbor...a tireless worker in our community.  He has an established recored for supporting equality, housing and employment.

Ben is one of us.  He brings a wealth of experience managing programs.  He decided to run for office.  When he wins, he’ll be the first Filipino to achieve this in the  State. 

(NOTE:  Audience is encouraged to join in for applause and chants in support of Ben during his speech.  Applause and noise from the audience.) 

Ben will tell us why he’s running and then take questions.  I give you the next Senator from this District...Ben Adama! (More applause, hooting.  Some noisemakers.)

BEN

Thanks, John!  Thanks everyone for coming out tonight.  Someone asked me why I was running. (Pause)  That’s easy...to win!  (Applause.)

Seriously, growing up, I had to guide my father Max ‘round the City.  He’d gone blind while boxing.  He was all but forgotten except for a few friends.

One day, we went into our favorite pool-hall.  Dad heard a someone bullying his friends.  He told me to take him over and stand him in front of the guy.  I did.   Dad asked the guy, “Why don’ you pick on someone who isn’t afraid of you?”

The man responded, “Who’s that?  You?  You’re an old blind man!”   Just as he finished, dad hit him with an upper cut.  Cold-cocked him.  Dad turned to me and said, “Ben, we got to get outta here.  Run!” 

We ran...Dad tapping with his cane.  Tap.  Tap. Tap.  Me scared shitless.  A few blocks away, cop yelled, “Max, stop.  There’s been some trouble at the pool-hall.  You see anything?  What’s up?”

Dad responded “Me no see nothin’.”

The cop let us go.  He knew dad...recognized and trusted him.

(Laughter from the crowd and lots of applause.)

This story reminds me where I’m from and what so many Filipinos experienced.  Dad was a fighter.

When his days in the fight ring ended, he didn’t have anything. He was poor...abandoned…unrecognized.  

I determined that I wouldn’t be forgotten.  That would not happen to me.  I would make my mark.

I wanted to make dad proud.  I wanted to show him I’m a fighter... show him that Filipinos could contribute and achieve in America...prove to him that I could win.   I had friends going to Catholic High School.  I thought this might be a way out.  I didn’t have money for tuition.  I got a job in a restaurant after school.  During summers, I worked in a gas station.  I earned money and paid the tuition.  I got into the school and graduated.

I joined the Marines. I served our country.  With the G.I. Bill, I completed community college.  I met my wife and started a family.  She’s home watching the kids so I could be here with you.  I made it my way.

I came back to our community...our neighborhood.  Loyalty is important to me.  I improve your housing.  Built a food bank. Organized a tutoring service for our schools.  I believe in giving back...in giving you and your children chances that weren’t available to me.   I want you to have a chance to improve your lives the way I improved mine.

I know you. And, you know me.  I’m running because you know I’ll do the job for you.  Join me.  I can’t go back.  Come forward with me.  Rise with me on the American ladder.  We can have success.  We can realize the American dream.  We can be part of America.

(Huge audience applause and chants: “Ben! Ben!”)

I grew up in Chinatown.  My father was poor.  We lived in a one room apartment filled with cockroaches.  He slept in the bed.  I slept on the floor.  The cockroaches never slept.

When dad died, I was raised in Rainier Valley by my Tito and Tiya...my Uncle and Aunt.   My wife and kids grew up here and go to school here.  I’ve known poverty and rose above it.  If I can do it, you can too.

You know me and you can trust my word!

(Audience applauds and chants.)

I can make a difference!  My opponent is part of the political establishment.  We’ve witnessed decay in our schools, fewer housing opportunities and businesses vanishing from our neighborhood.  (Crowd applauds at each pause.) 

We need more housing (Pause), small businesses (Pause), better schools (Pause) and jobs.

I’m not like her.  I’ll represent you.  I’ll represent your dreams.  I promise to make government listen.  I worked years in our neighborhood.  I’ll take my life lessons and experiences to the Senate.  I ask for your support.

(Audience cheers loudly.)

We can move forward and bring prosperity.  We can improve schools, reduce crime and strengthen our economy. (Crowd agrees more loudly.)

You ask:  Why am I running?  I’m running because I’m you.  I believe in loyalty.  We grew up together.  We walk these streets together.  I’m running because I represent your hunger and hopes.

I will succeed. You have my word.

(Crowd cheers loudly.)

I believe in you.   Believe in me. Walk with me. You can trust me.  Join me in my campaign.  Thank you.

(Crowd applauds and cheers wildly. Joyful music starts up. John rises and joins Ben on the Podium.)

JOHN

In celebration of your hopes and dreams Ben represents for us, we’re hanging this banner.

Give it up for the next Senator from this District: Ben Adama!

(Pedro and Paulo unfurl a very large banner that reads:  Adama for State Senate in bold letters.)

PEDRO AND PAULO

(Lead crowd in chant.) We know you and we trust your word! 

CROWD

(Chants.)

We know you and we trust your word!

JOHN

Behind you are sign-up tables.  We need volunteers.  We need your support.  Join Ben’s

campaign.

Join us.  Support Ben.  We have refreshments...food and drink. (Points to tables.)

AUDIENCE (CHANTS.)

Mabuhay, Adama!  Viva, Adama!  Mabuhay, Adama!  Ben! Ben! Ben!

(Music plays.  People head for tables.  Ben moves through the crowd shaking hands.  He receives pats an the back.  Then, Mara gives him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.)

Tanagas

Remnants

Only dead stamen remain

of flowers you left behind

in vases on the window.

Like petals, love dries in vain.

Waking

Water gurgles in the pot.

Dawn beckons me with light.

Bold coffee removes the night.

I open my newspaper.

SILK AND WAR

CHARACTERS

MAJOR COOK -   40 YEAR OLD BRITISH MAJOR, AN ATTACHE TO SIR WINSTON

PRIVATE ENFIELD -  20 YEAR OLD, BRITISH ARMY PRIVATE

SIR WINSTON CHURCHILL -  PRIME MINISTER, ENGLAND

SCENE I

(The scene takes place in 10 Downing Street, the office of Sir Winston Churchill.  The British are engaged in World War II and are on the eve of Dunkirk when Sir Winston is to speak to the nation.   Major Cook, his personal attache, paces the room waiting for Private Enfield to return with an important task he has ordered him to fulfill on behalf of the Prime Minister.)
                       
Major Cook:    (Pacing.)  Were is that laddie?   It’s been several hours.  Bloody.  If he’s forgotten.

(Enter Private Enfield. He salutes.)
                       
Private Enfield:   They’re boxed, Major!   As you requested.
                     
 Major Cook:  The right size, Private?
                       
Private Enfield:  I believe so, sir.
                       
Major Cook:  It’s important to the Prime Minister.  You certain?
                       
Private Enfield:  Wouldn’t let you down, sir.

Major Cook:  Yes. Yes.  But, it’s highly important.
                       
Private Enfield:  I don’t understand -
                       
Major Cook:   He’s addressing the nation.  He has to be comfortable.
                     
Private Enfield:  Dunkirk?
                       
Major Cook:  The Prime Minister is under a lot of pressure. Don’t want him screwing up now.  Do we laddie?
                   
Private Enfield:  Absolutely not, Major.
                       
Major Cook:   What about color?  Pink, I hope.
                       
Private Enfield:  White, sir.
                       
Major Cook:  Right, oh.  Nothing else?
                       
Private Enfield:   No choice, sir.  War shortages.  Pink dyes are being used for camouflage.  Mountbatten, sir. Royal Navy.
                       
Major Cook:  (Pause.)  Yes.  I see.   Correct.  We all have to make sacrifices, I suppose.   You covered everything?
                       
Private Enfield:  Everything you specified, Major.
                       
Major Cook:  Check.  Let’s see.  Size.  Color.  Comfort’s important.
                       
Private Enfield:   The P.M. will be fine.  He’s sure to rally the nation.
                       
Major Cook:   I wish I could see them.
                     
Private Enfield:  They’re boxed.  I didn’t want to unwrap them.
                     
Major Cook:  What style?
                     
Private Enfield:   Not sure, sir.  Probably boxers.
                     
Major Cook:  Right. Well, he can make do.
                     
Private Enfield:   If you say, sir.
                     
Major Cook:   More importantly. The materials?  If you didn’t get it right, the nation -

(Just then the door opens.  Sir Winston Churchill enters, cigar in hand.)
                     
Sir Winston:  You get them?   Important, you know, Major.
                     
Major Cook:  Private Enfield took charge.  I’m confident.
                     
Sir Winston:   (Opens box. Lifts up a pair of silk underwear. Studies them. Holds them next to his body.)
Almost perfect.  Fine silk.  Our boys...all Britain will be grateful. Where you get the silk?
                   
Private Enfield:  R.A.F., Mr. Prime Minister.
                   
Sir Winston:  R.A.F.?
                   
Private Enfield:  Yes, sir.  Leftover parachute.
                   
Sir Winston:   Bloody hell, parachute, you say!  Great silk.  How’d you know?
                   
Private Enfield:   Rumor, sir.  Just rumor. (Pause.) You proposed creating an airborne force in 1917.  Seemed fitting.
                   
Sir Winston:   Don’t like the color.  Thought I -
                   
Major Cook:  No choice, sir. Navy.
                   
Sir Winston:  I specifically told you I - (Pause.) You’re right. We all have to make sacrifices.
                   
Private Enfield:  Price of war, sir.  No pink.
                   
Sir Winston:  You astound me, Private.  Doesn’t go beyond 10 Downing.
                   
Major Cook:  Yes, Mr. Prime Minister. Got that Private Enfield. Not beyond Downing.
                   
Private Enfield:  Yes, sir. My lips are sealed, Major.

(Lights down.  The end.)

                        SCENE II

(Scene two takes place in the same office on 10 Downing Street.  Winston Churchill practices his speech to rally the British nation after Dunkirk.  Major Cook is present as is Private Enfield.)

Sir Winston:  How did it sound?

Major Cook:  Well spoken, Mr. Prime Minister.  Bully! Well spoken.

Private Enfield:  Bully, Mr. Prime Minister.  Inspiring, no doubt!  When you say:

"We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender..."

I am especially moved.  You’ll rouse the people, if I may say, sir.

Sir Winston:  Thank you.  Thank you both.  If it wasn’t for your service --

Major Cook:  Duty, sir.  Just our duty.

Sir Winston:  Still, without the comfort of silk, I --

Major Cook:  I suppose we should celebrate.

Sir Winston:  I owe you.

Major Cook:  The nation owes you.

Private Enfield:  I agree with Major Cook, sir.

Major Cook:  I have a thought.  Why not celebrate! I acquired some French  carmel candies.  My gift to you Mr. Prime Minister.

Sir Winston:  I’m at a loss for words, Major.  How did you get them?

Major Cook:   R.A.F., Sir.  Knew some fellows in Hornet Squadron. Served in Normandy.

Sir Winston:  (Pause.) Damn unfortunate men.  Wooden propellers on the planes. Blast! Made the Hun’s work easy.  Far too easy. (Pause) Thank you. (Takes box.)

Major Cook:  Have one in their honor, sir.

Private Enfield:  You have a dinner engagement sir.  Perhaps you should wait.

Major Cook:  Don’t interrupt, Private.  Let the Prime Minister celebrate --

Private Enfield:  It wouldn’t do to spoil his appetite.  After all this is with the Cabinet.

Major Cook:  I don’t see how eating a few -

Sir Winston:  There. There.  Perhaps the Private is right.  He was so helpful with the silk underwear.  (Pause.) Here Private, my gift to you in thanks.

Major Cook:  But...Sir Winston.  They were in honor of Hornet Squadron’s lost men.  You should eat them.

Sir Winston:  I cannot think of how honored they would be than by giving these carmels to an enlisted man...those that deserve our nation’s gratitude.

Private Enfield:  Why thank you, sir.  (Takes the box and opens it.) These look yummie!  Here, Major, have one.  If you hadn’t ordered me to find the silk underwear, Sir Winston wouldn’t be able to address the country.

Major Cook:  I appreciate that Private but I’ll pass.  Diet, you know. Barely fit the uniform.

Private Enfield:  Oh, come on, Major. I insist. One or two won’t hurt.  Besides, you went to all the trouble to get them from Hornet Squadron.

Major Cook: And, I fear I must decline, I’m afraid. (Pause.) My health.

Sir Winston:  Come. Come, Major.  I hear French carmel is the best.  You went to so much trouble getting these.  Have one.

Major Cook:  But, I got them for you and --

Sir Winston:  Now. Now.  I know the sacrifices that you men make.  After all, I served in the Boer War.  You deserve --

Major Cook:  My doctor --

Private Enfield:  Is German. Is he not?

Major Cook:  What!  Bloody hell. What are you implying? You -

Private Enfield:  Your real name is “Koch”.

Major Cook:   (Long pause.)  You know? How?

Private Enfield:  We intercepted a coded message: “Koch’s in the kitchen. Assassination as planned.”  In German, “Koch” translates to “Cook”. Does it not? Raised our suspicions.  A little investigation and --

Major Cook
Bloody.  You’re not an ordinary Private.  I should have guessed.

Private Enfield:  MI5.  Second Lieutenant Enfield, sir.

Major Cook:  I was to kill Sir Winston.  What now?

Sir Winston:  (Draws gun.)  You’re under arrest.  You’ll be in prison for the rest of your life. We’ll defeat Hitler.

Major Cook:  Damn you, Brits.  I think not. Heil, Hitler! (He bites on a pill and dies.  Private Enfield rushes over, kneels by his body and takes his pulse.)

Private Enfield:  Dead sir!  Poison.

Sir Winston:  Damn!  Should have seen that coming.  Now, we can’t interrogate or turn him.

Private Enfield:  He could have eaten the candy, sir. (He takes one and swallows it.)  They’re excellent.

Sir Winston:  What!  You said they were filled with poison.

Private Enfield:  I lied, sir.  These are quite sweet.  He would have enjoyed one.  (Pause.) MI5 replaced his with replicas in case you accidentally decided to eat one. (Pause.)  For your own protection, sir.  And, we didn’t want you to give away the store.

Sir Winston:  Give away the store!  I’ll have you know - (Pause. Chuckles.) Sandhurst, eh?  Absolute scoundrels!

Private Enfield:  Right, sir.  Class of ‘38.  We need you to rally the country, Mr. Prime Minister.

Sir Winston:  (Pause) Right. Right. Bully. I see your point (Pause), Lieutenant.

Private Enfield:   We must fight on sir.

(Lights down. End of play.)