Darkness. GINO MERLI sits in a chair. He is sleeping. All of a sudden, a scream. He’s having a nightmare. The theater is filled with the terrible sounds of war......

(staring ahead) I see you. You’re alive too. We’re both alive….don’t move. I won’t if you won’t. The moon is giving both of us away…

(frantic now…movement back and forth. In a sort of fog)

Mary! Mary! He’s back. Come quick! Can you see him? Can you? I can’t explain it anymore. I just can’t. You have to…….you have to see him. Mary….wake up! Wake up! I won’t shoot anymore. There’s no one left. They’re all gone Mary. It’s just me….and him. Me….and him….

Everybody else is….is….gone.

(wakes up….breathing heavy. disoriented. puts his head in his hands. weeps silently for a moment. then composes himself and calls offstage to his wife)

Mary? Is he here yet? Tell him to come out here. No…it’s not too hot. It’s nice in the shade under the tree. He’s here? Ok…send him out. 

(tenderly) I’m fine Mary. Really. Yes…I took my pills.

(waits for his visitor….then stretches out a hand to shake an invisible hand)

Mr. Buckland…..thanks for coming. Ok….Joseph. Gino Merli. It’s nice to finally meet you. You mind that we’re out here? Can I get you something cold to drink?

Any trouble finding the place? Yea…well….Gino Merli Drive. I’ll never forget where I live…right? (laughs)

I’m flattered about the book…really.

So how do you want to do this? Sure. No no, I’m good. I feel good today. Good days and bad days you know? 

(……quiet……waiting for the questions to begin)

Oh…you want to go back that far? (smiles)

When I was 18 there were times I didn’t think I’d live another hour. I figured I’d die about as far from home as a kid could get.

Isn’t this a peaceful spot?

I just fell asleep out here. Right before you came. 

(long pause)

Everybody wants to talk. I never did….but … maybe it’s time. You probably hope so in any case (laughs)

I don’t know really…..for 60 years I’ve never really felt comfortable talking about myself. Even when I pray I get squeamish with the details. 

 (silent….)

You want to talk about war?

Of all the animals on the ark…..we’re the only ones that deal in the atrocity of war. Even the animals know better. That can’t make God feel all that proud.

But that’s only if He blames himself I guess….

(pause again….maybe he went too far…..)

But he doesn’t fire the gun. We do. 

Yea….you’re right. 

He didn’t invent it either.

They say it’s therapeutic to talk. I always thought the best therapy was to stay good and quiet. But…that’s a generational thing I guess.

The greatest generation is what Tom Brokaw called us. He’s my friend.

(lets this sink in. touched that a man of Brokaw’s stature would consider him a friend.)

(Gino now yells in towards the house to Mary..)

We’re fine Mary. (slight irritation at the nagging) I took my pills. I told you that before. We’re fine out here.

(back to Buckland….and they share a sort of “you know how that is” moment in regards to the nagging wife)

Let me tell you about staying quiet. My wife Mary….…well…...we met when we were so young. I don’t know that her family trusted me too much back then. Her brother used to come on dates with us…..and her Mom didn’t say much to me. 

Made me nervous some but kids today?. Today….you get nervous and you start talking and talking, trying to calm the nerves.

We’d do the opposite. Get nervous? Stay quiet. Like they used to say…” It's better to keep your mouth shut and give the impression that you're stupid than to open it and remove all doubt..”

Mary got to be May Queen one year. Told me to meet her back at her house, but she got caught up in the congratulations and such and there I was sitting there at her house alone for 2 hours at least. I never said a word. Just waited. Everybody kinda looking at me not sure what to say. But they knew on that day that they weren’t gonna get rid of me. I never had to verbalize it. I guess I never had to verbalize anything. 

Good soldiers never really do.

(Pause…as this is the end of a thought. Then quiet as he waits for the next question…)

Oh…the nightmares? Everybody so interested in other people’s dreams. (laughs)

Everybody has ‘em. But when you wake up you can’t remember most. Difference is I remember everything.

Sometimes you see things like there’s a photograph behind your eye. You know…like a picture hanging on your wall. Sometimes you notice it, and sometimes you don’t. But it’s always there. And when I notice it…the dreams come back.

And he’s always there….my German. He’s still looking for me. Wonder what he’d do if he found me? After all these years…..I wonder what he’d do? 

Oh…we’ll get to him.

But first things first….Ok?

(long pause)

When I came home the dreams would come often. And I thought I’d pushed them away for good but when the Parkinson’s took over…….shoot…..don’t know why but that seemed to trigger them all over again.

Today I’m pretty good though…see? (puts out his hand to show that his Parkinson’s tremor is only slight……at least to him)

You know….that night in Sars la Bruyere…..I think about this sometimes. But I had to lie there completely still. If I moved or twitched…..I’d be dead. And now most of the time…I  can’t stop moving or twitching even if I wanted to. Even if my very life depended on it. And you know what? I think this is God’s way of saying that what I did was OK. I can move all the time now. Because I wonder about that still. Is it ever Ok to kill? He said it himself….”Thou Shall Not Kill”. But I broke His commandment. Many times over I broke it. And yet I still feel close to Him. 

How do we reconcile that?

I don’t expect you to answer that. You’ve got enough to worry about…writing a book about me. (laughs)

(long pause)

I signed up. You don’t think about the killing when you’re going to war. You think about it being the right thing to do. And you don’t say to yourself….”these are things worth killing for”….no no….what you say is “these are things worth dying for.” See? There’s no honor in being willing to kill. The honor comes from being willing to die….for the right things. We always used to say….”if the country is good enough to live in, it’s good enough to fight for.”

And so I went down to Wilkes-Barre to enlist. I was still in high school. Went down there and they told me I was 4F. Said I had flat feet and my blood pressure was too high. I was madder than a hornet so I called ‘em and told ‘em I wanted a second opinion and the guy told me to just make sure I got myself in a different line the next time I went. Got a different Doc the second time and he missed the flat feet so maybe they got rounder. 
Never knew I had flat feet before they told me. To this day the army are the only folks I ever heard that got anything against flat feet. Never heard of anybody ‘round here being told you couldn’t go to work in the mines ‘cause you had flat feet. 

Filled out a bunch of forms….and they asked me if I had any scars or birthmarks. When I asked why they were asking me that….the guy says….”so they can identify you after you get your dog tags blown off.” (laughs uneasy) 

I kinda laughed but he didn’t (chuckles at this)

The army is not know for its sense of humor.

No scars. None then….and none now….

(silence…as Buckland mentions the obvious)

That’s very true Joseph. None that anybody can see. 

But none of us knew that to expect. It’s the same today. No matter how many wars we fight…..if you don’t see it up close….you don’t know. You can read every war book there is. If you don’t see the blood….smell the bodies….hear the screams. You just don’t know. And you take a bunch of high school kids…..well (trails off). We went for different reasons I guess. Some thought it was the right thing to do. Some did it because their buddies did it. Some did it for the girls. Oh, the girls loved the uniforms. (laughs) And some got drafted and didn’t have a choice. Didn’t matter really. You were all in the same boat once you got there. Trying to stay alive. Trying to get back home. We never knew how much we loved where we came from and what we had there. One thing war does to you. You never stop thinking about home.

(sheepish) Sounds so corny doesn’t it? That’s the kind of thing I’d say over and over. Sounds like something right out of a Hollywood movie doesn’t it? (laughs) When I came back from the war everybody wanted me to recite the pledge of allegiance for them. Dinners, boy scouts, meetings…..and I never said no. You do your bit. If you say no…..and the next guy says no….then what? You keep going down the line until it ends and the flag gets rolled up like a tablecloth the day after a holiday.

No…for what I got I owe somebody…..and I’m gonna give until I can’t give anymore. Used to complain sometimes….about my Parkinson’s mostly…how tired I’ve been getting. Friend of mind used to nudge me in the ribs….”Gino….the Pope’s got Parkinson’s and he’s running the church…..you telling me you can’t go to the VFW and say the pledge?” You need a kick in the pants sometimes. 

(reflective…a pause)

We all do…but only another vet could get away with saying that to me.

Joseph…..I’d be thinking about home all the time. Peckville Pennsylvania. What do you think of it?

This is my little corner of the world. We got our own internal clock around here. Our own movements. Our own smells. Kind of place where you feel like you get some privacy even though you know darn well everybody knows your business (laughs). Army buddies would go “Gino, where you from?” and I’d say “Peckville” and they’d say “Peckerville?….never heard of it”. And I’d go…”well, where you from?”…and they’d say “well I’m from Willacoochie Georgia” and I’d say (deliberate mispronunciation) “Willacootie?…never heard of it.” We were all from places nobody ever heard of it seemed like….mostly places not even on the map. I like that Peckville isn’t on the map. You can’t find it then, which is fine with me. But the army must have a map the size of a football field ‘cause Peckville is on that one. So’s Willacoochie. (laughs)

Army will find you anywhere.

Yea (laughs)…..biographers too.

Never really planned on leaving here….but I got to see the world I guess. Scotland. England. France. Germany. Belgium….even Dickson City. (laughs) 

And you know Joseph, when you strip the postcards away….the sun comes up and then the sun goes down in those places too. And when the moon shines a light on you in a Belgium trench it’s the same light it’s throwing back home. Maybe if the circumstances were different…I don’t know. I seen the worst of humankind in those places….but at the same time I think going there made me a better man. And I’ve been back a few times after the war….and I can still hear the echoes. And I know I’m stronger now….but still….

Them places never came up to home in my eyes.

(silent for a time)

I remember a buddy of mine saying how he couldn’t wait to get there. Even on the boats over to Normandy….we’re all throwing up over the sides……you half expected your own shoes to come out of your mouth….(laughs)……and in between gulps of air he’s still saying it. “Gino…..I can’t wait to get there and get my hands on ‘em”…you know…that kind of talk. Dying wasn’t even a possibility. That happened to somebody else all the time. We were gonna live forever.

And we’re getting close to the beach and the shells are landing all around us. Sounded like what you’d expect hell to sound like. And he turns to me and says….”well, I’ve seen enough……wanna go home now.” (laughs) There was no shame in being afraid. We was all afraid. It’s worse being afraid when you’re alone. When you got your buddies with you, and you’re sharing the fear it’s better. There’s plenty to go around for everybody. “Many hands make light work” my Dad used to say.

What scared me the most?

I’ll tell you straight out….the only way I know how. What scares you the most is that you’ll get so scared you’ll run and desert your buddies. That’s worse than dying. Once you’re dead….you’re dead. Once you run…..you gotta live with it the rest of your life. 

D-Day?

Well….we came in at low tide….and the obstacles the Germans had put up to stop the landings….you can see them. They looked like giant spiders on the beach. We were all seasick. And next to us a battleship was firing into the cliffs, and every time that big 14 inch gun went off, our little boat would get swamped by the kickback wave…and we’d get wetter and sicker.

And you couldn’t see the Germans. There were just shells and bullets coming from every direction. And guys were wearing heavy packs on their backs….and we threw ourselves over the sides of the boats to get out of there….and lots of ‘em were dragged under by their own weight and drowned. You see a guy drowning, you save him right? You go under and you bring him back up. But normal had a new meaning now. Perverted. So you left him.

But we did what we trained to do. We kept moving forward.  If you stayed in one place you’d die. The snap and the thud of a bullet…that’s the sound a bullet makes….a snap. The artillery is what whines. And the mortar shells….they whisper almost. You see war in the movies…..and they get it wrong. 

But it could be the bullet…or the artillery…or the mortar shells…what came next was the  beginning of a scream….and then the scream would be torn from the throat when the fella hit the water. Dead. 

I remember a Sergeant saying to me once……after one of our guys got picked off by a sniper. He says…”Merli….that must be something.” And I said….”what’s that Sarge?”. And he said….”dying”.

(pause…remembering)

We were to keep moving, then crouch and fire. Trouble was there didn’t seem to be anything to fire at. I saw some tracers coming from a concrete emplacement and I don’t think I’d ever seen anything that big before. Rifle felt like a pea shooter. And as I got to the beach I’m thinking…”I gotta make it home to Peckville….I gotta make it home.”

Funny how home does that to you. When fear crowded everything else out…..you still had home.

Lots of guys were vying for God’s attention that day (smiles softly). 

On both sides I bet.

(pause)

We made it to the beach…and we got to this hillside…near the bluffs. And a unit of sappers had gotten there before us….to find out where the mines were. And now a bunch of ‘em were lying along that hillside…with legs gone from the explosions when they tripped a mine. 

And these guys had shot themselves up with morphine and they were telling us where it was safe to step. They were about 25 yards apart. And they were like in a straight line…human markers….telling up how to get up that hill. And we made it up there, and a guy next to me says…”well, we’re gonna live at least one more day.” And I turned around to look…..and by buddy says to me….”don’t look back there Merli.” 

I seen so many dead. Lying everywhere. The beaches. The fields. The roads. Got so you hated the smell more than you did the sight. Most live their entire lives not seeing a dead body except ones laying in a coffin. Fixed up all nice….dressed nice. There’s no arms or legs or heads missing. There’s no hole where the organs used to be. You could look right through a man lying in a field and see the green grass under him.

(long pause again)

And you know we were just kids. High School kids mostly. But after we got off that beach we weren’t kids anymore. In a lot of ways I either never got past 19….or I went straight from 19 to being old. War ages you faster than time does.

Lots of folks always going on about how disappointed they are in the kids…..but they were saying the same thing about us too. You just don’t know what you’re capable of. 

Somebody once said that a kid is like a teabag. You never know what he’s made of until you put him in hot water.

And you can’t look at somebody from your window or whatever….and tell what’s going on inside them. I got no use for them that judge that way. If your choice is to live or to die….like it was on that beach on June 6th…..kids today would make the same choice we did. 

Wouldn’t they? I don’t want to put you on the spot (laughs)

Read a memoir of a guy who fought in the Pacific. He was feeling the same as all of us…wondering if he had what it took not only to fight….but to survive. And his sergeant says to him…”son, you’re gonna learn before you get out of here that one of the most brutal things in the world is your average 19 year old American boy.”

(long pause) 

(to interviewer) You’re trying to picture me as a 19 year old I can tell. (laughs)

Brutal? I don’t know. Maybe fighting for your life is. I can tell you one thing though. 

Looks is deceiving.

(long pause. Lets this sink in)

I get letters every week it seems. From all over. People ask me how it felt. That’s the hardest question in the world….”how did it feel”. It’s like trying to describe color to a blind man. You don’t feel anything other than fear really. Fear, and then revulsion. Because war forces you to do things that we’re not built for.

And it forced me to break one of the commandments…..because at the time I thought it was the best way I could keep holy the rest of them.

And if that’s not madness I don’t know what is. But how I felt then is still the way I feel right now. The smoke cleared and I still think I was on the right side. The Lord’s side.

(long pause…..)

It’s a wonder He didn’t give up on us all.

(head down….reflective)

But the letters….I answer every one. By hand until my hands shake so bad I can’t write anymore.

And they all want to know about that night…..but I never told ‘em that. Never told Mary. I never told anyone…..

But…..not much of a book if we leave it out….right?

Mary knows. She knows. When the thunder and lightning comes, she sees my back stiffen. She sees that it brings me back there…..

One night I picked her up in the middle of a storm, and just started driving. Not saying a word. Just driving further and further away from where we were supposed to be going. And I was gonna drive off the end of the earth if I had to….to make it stop. She knew. I didn’t have to tell her, and she didn’t have to ask. So she just let me drive….and the storm passed. And we found our way home again. And we never spoke of it. I know I scared her. And she knew that I scared myself. But Mary is a soldier too. She fought the war too. Just because you weren’t there doesn’t mean you were spared the fighting. She wakes up on the floor sometimes….thrown off the bed by my thrashing around. And she’ll put a wet cloth on my head….and hold me until the shaking stops. I’m not sure it’s fair putting her through that. Even now….the pain comes. And I’ll call her….and she’ll come. 

It’s our medal really….not just mine.

(lovingly) We share everything.

(shy smile…not used to giving away this much)

Why did I do it?

I was motivated by my dead buddies…..and my hatred of war.

That’s what I told them all….and that’s what I’ll tell you too.

That….plus I wanted to come home.

The night of September 4th, in Belgium somewhere, our company was ordered to stop the troops that were moving through Belgium and Germany….they were trying to get back home, the German soldiers were. ‘Cause that’s really what all soldiers are fighting for. And they were just kids too. That’s what soldiers are. Kids, growing older by the minute.

About 6 o’clock our company commander got notice saying that they needed a section of guns to set up a roadblock and 14 men to support it. They loaded up the 2 jeeps and we began marching towards the objective of the roadblock. We finally reached the town of Sars-la-Bruyere, and that’s where Sergeant Patanski said…”this is where we set up the roadblock.” When Patanski said something, that was it. 

So everybody got to work and then dug their foxholes, and we were prepared then to hold that roadblock at all costs. As we were digging our emplacement, the neighboring village citizens were coming over to the Sergeant and telling him that there were many many enemy soldiers along that cobblestone road we came down. “Beaucoup Boches” is what they kept saying. 

This is about 7:30 in the evening. Sergeant Patinski then sent a patrol out in front of the guns to see where the enemy was. They returned half an hour later and reported at least 100 German soldiers marching down the road. Sounded like “Beaucoup Boches” to me. Patinski got the 2 guns ready for an all-out stand to hold that roadblock.

When we opened fire in the first volley, the enemy soldiers coming down that road were like ants. We couldn’t believe our eyes when we saw the silhouette…..they were ahead of us, behind us, inside of us…lots more than the 100 spotted by the patrol. It was like they were coming out of the sky, or up from the ground. Heaven and hell.

We were holding the roadblock, by this time there were 2 of us that were killed. My friend Hendricks was dead. Four injured, and many of the remaining had been taken prisoner. We were fighting under the cover of darkness. They came down 4 times to try to knock us off. The last time they came around 4am and found the lifeless bodies. My assistant gunner and myself were in our foxhole. He was lying on top of me…..dead. I remember feeling his breath on my face for a moment….and then it was gone.He was brand new….a replacement just come over from the states a few days before. 

He  was just a kid like me but he looked twelve years old. I felt like an old man by now…and looked like one too. But I never learned his name. And he died literally in my arms. I would have gone to his family, his sweetheart…to tell them what he did….how he stood and fought. How he didn’t die in vain. But he was a stranger. Just like the men we were fighting against.

He has a story too….just like me. But he doesn’t get a book…..right?

(perhaps a bit more bitter than usual) Those are the rules.

(pause)

The Germans jabbed the bodies….to make sure they were dead. Stuck a bayonet into my lower back….and I didn’t move. It was then I knew that God was in there with me. I remember thinking about that spear in Jesus’ side….and I didn’t move. And so they were convinced I was dead….and fell back.

As soon as they turned around I jumped to my gun and opened fire. I killed them. I sprayed them all and they fell. They said later there were 19 in front of the gun. Seemed like 1000 to me. And they fell without a sound. They stopped moving before the echo of the shots had even died down. That’s how quick things can happen in war. That’s why nerves are never the same if you live through it. 

You know too much…...

I was all by myself now….and finally remembered that I had a rosary in my pocket. So it seemed like a good time for it. The ramifications of what I’d just done didn’t hit me. My only thought now was staying alive…..getting back home. What would happen to me if I got captured? What would they do to me? 

I clutched the rosary so hard my hand bled….

(quiet for a minute)

We sure shared some secrets that night though….me and Him.

(another pause)

Another group came down later. They said something in German. I assume it was that nobody was there…that everybody was dead. 

So when they moved on, I opened fire again….by myself….from my foxhole. More men fell. I felt like the only American left in the whole world. I could not keep getting away with this. That’s what I thought. I could not keep getting away with this…..game.

I figured if I kept shooting, they couldn’t take me alive. They couldn’t take me alive  and they’d have to kill me. 

And then nothing moved. The moon shone down like a searchlight…..it was like a tracer really…..and I could just see what looked like mounds of earth. The only sound was a dog barking……a long way off it had to be. 

The only American left in the world?

Now I felt like the only person left in the world. Everyone else was dead. The madness was all consuming, and we’d annihilated each other….down to the last man.

Me.

But what is war with no enemy?

And sure enough ….I realized that there was this one German solider left, out 20 yards in front of my gun. The earth moved….just a bit….like a small mine subsidence back home.

And I thought…..I can still remember the thought all these years later……it was just for a second, but I thought that as soon as one of us was killed……the war would be over.

He was wounded, but he knew I was there. I could hear him moving, calling to his comrades that he was wounded…..but nobody came. I still remember his voice. Just a boy. A high pitched voice. Scared. Alone.

He sounded just like me….

He was moving and now I was moving. We each knew the other was there. So from 4am to 6am he knew I was alive and I knew he was alive. He was watching because there was a bright moonlight that night and you could see an outline of a human being….I had forgotten that the lights weren’t there only for me. The moon shone for both of us. It didn’t take sides.…..but I was hoping somebody did.….that even God couldn’t be neutral in war.

(quiet for a time)

So he was watching for me…watching for my silhouette. He tried to shoot once…but that was all. The rest of the time he just watched me….watched me watching him And I could have killed him…I could have sprayed the dirt with my machine gun and taken him out…but it was almost like we had an understanding. Enough had already died. Live and let live, and lets see how far we can take this. I was tired of killing. I just didn’t want to do it anymore. At least not on this night.

Then before daybreak…..our trance was broken……

This medic came to help him, and he tried to convince his own medic that there was someone still alive at my position. But the medic didn’t believe his own soldier. He must have said, “we don’t have time to worry about one man, we don’t have time”….I can vividly remember now every move. You had to stay awake if you wanted to survive. And the medic carried him out of there. Back down the road. And I thought…..I’ll never see him again.

But I was wrong. 

I see him when I close my eyes….when you’re not supposed to see anything. 

(pause)

Finally, Americans appeared with the sun. 

And they looked at me like I was supposed to be dead….almost like I was Lazarus who had just risen. And nobody said anything at first…..they just kinda stepped back a bit. And then I told them I was hungry… and then they knew I was real.

They took me to the chow house and there was breakfast. And I asked Sergeant Patinski if he wouldn’t mind if I went and prayed for the dead….our dead and their dead. No matter how bitter you were against the enemy, you still had the heart to pray for him. 

They all had families…some of ‘em had kids. They all had mothers who would get the news that their son died in combat. And I was responsible for that. But I didn’t have hatred in my heart for enemy soldiers. Maybe if I did…..what I did that day wouldn’t still keep me up nights.

We went to the small church nearby and sat down and said some prayers. I walked in the door and put my finger in the holy water to bless myself….and that’s when I realized that my finger was all burned from the machine gun.

(pause……let this sink in)

The Sergeant came with me, and one or two of the others of the squad came too. We prayed in silence…I’d say for a good 15 minutes. 

And Hendricks. Nobody remembers him today. He should have got a medal. I lived for my country….but he died for his. (tears now welling up) 

Where is his medal?

He was the brave man.

But who remembers? I want you to mention him. Make sure…Ok?

(composing himself now)

This isn’t like me you know.

Ask anybody.

I’ve gotten positively verbose since you arrived. Must be the pills. (laughs)

Faith? Well I have a question for you Joseph.

How is it that a man can seemingly lose everything except faith?

I’ve never lost faith in God.

I mean….look around you. Faith is usually the first thing to go.

So what makes me so……different….right? 

Different to some. Weird to others. Answer that and you’ll get your Pulitzer. (laughs)

You know…..if I sat down and thought about what I did that night, maybe I would have lost faith. But war leaves little time for reflection.

I killed. How many? 20? 50? Does it matter? Is killing 100 worse than killing 1? The Lord says “thou shall not kill”..period. Nothing comes after that. It doesn’t say “except in war”….or…..”unless they are Nazis”. Are we supposed to think He left something out?

He loved the men I killed. He created them. He was their God too. Do I have the right to take away something that He created? Should we suffer down here as He did….and wait to be rewarded in heaven? Or should we fight to keep ourselves out of man’s own hell? Who’s hell is worse?

Questions. Always the questions. I’d have thought they would have stopped by now. But no.

And you thought you were coming here to ask me some (laughs)

You want more?

I wanted to fight. We don’t say it but we have to realize that that means we want to kill as well. You can’t be good at one and not good at the other. Makes no sense. I can read. I know what war is. War is killing. And I wanted in. Maybe I’m not what everybody thinks I am.

But what does this make me? I wasn’t fighting against my will that night. I asked to be there. We had to think…..that killing Germans was somehow what God wanted us to do. But how can that be?

Maybe He never conceived of a Hitler…..that something like that could take hold in the world….to exist. To spread. It was evil in a form so pure that maybe sin was the only answer.

How could God know? Who would hold it against Him if He didn’t?

Is killing always evil?

But God was with me in that trench. I felt Him. He kept me still. He dried the beads of sweat on my head. He kept my eyes open. And He did not stop me from getting off those rounds.

So if He was with me, He could not have been with them. 

Do you remember what Lincoln said?

(recites)

In great contests each party claims to act in accordance with the will of God. Both may be, and one must be, wrong. God cannot be for and against the same thing at the same time. 

My memory is still pretty good. (smiles)

We’re all faced with decisions that could take us either way. I think it’s what you do without reflection that counts. Do you automatically do God’s will? When you see the flag, does your hand automatically raise up in a salute….or does it wait to see what others will do?

Listen to me will ya? I’m sounding all cocky again now! (laughs)

A congressional medal of honor can do that to you I guess.

Sure….lets talk about that.

You’re here because I earned one. But heck…..lots of guys earned one. Doesn’t mean they get it though. I was in the right place at the right time….and the right people heard about what I did. I fought with guys who did what I did 10 times over…and you don’t know their names. So in a lot of ways I treat it like it belongs to everybody else. 

Losing something that’s yours is bad enough…..but if it belongs to others and you lose it…well….you feel terrible. Just terrible.

But the medal of honor. That’s what people remember me for. 

(suddenly furious…reacting) Don’t say I “won” it!

A friend of mine said that to me casually one day…just like you just did…that I’d “won” the MOH and I nearly decked him. “Won” it? What is it…..up for auction? What was I? The highest damn bidder?!

You earn it. Not much gets me mad…….but that’ll get me every time.

(calming down now) No no…it’s ok. 

The medal. People don’t know what to say.

“You must have known somebody to get it”. 

I get that one a lot.

(collecting himself)

Anyway….sorry about that. I should be able to let things like that go but I can’t. 

Stubborn Peckville guinea (laughs)

But….no……it wasn’t like they put it around my neck the next morning or anything. These things take time. When you’re dealing with the army everything takes time. It takes about 6 months to get new boots. You can imagine how long before a medal of honor will come through.

So I had plenty of time to get into more scrapes. And at the Battle of the Bulge I took grenade fragments in my leg and wrist. It sounds so…..nonchalant doesn’t it? “Grenade fragments”. Like you cut yourself on a piece of glass or something. But no, like most things in war the words don’t do the deed justice….and the truth is it hurt like hell (pause)…sorry.

Wasn’t supposed to happen. The Nazis were on the run. Paris was liberated. What a place that was…Paris. What you had was the stars aligned like never before for a celebration that would be remembered long after the hangover faded. Notice I said “hangover” with no ‘S’. It was one long hangover because guys got drunk and stayed that way for as long as possible. Not me of course….I’m just saying like. (blesses himself and laughs)

And I saw this face there…she must have been no more than 20..maybe even younger. And she had some sort of funny thing in her hair that made it stick up like she was wearing a crown or something….and darnit if it didn’t make her look like the Statue of Liberty. But if you ever got a good look at the Statue of Liberty…well, the lady is kind of homely looking. But here was the face that should have been on it…and the more I looked at her the more I thought that everything we had been through to get to this point was worth it somehow. And it made me think of Mary. And it wasn’t gonna be long until I could see her again. 

We thought the war was over.

But it wasn’t. The Germans attacked in the Ardennes……when we were all looking towards home. And they pulled a fast one. My buddy kept saying….”hey Gino, where the hell is the sonofabitch getting the troops?”

The German 88’s were the worst. They’d make a certain sound the chilled you no matter how many times you heard it. And if you’re laying in some foxholes and there’s 88’s coming at you, there’s not much you and your rifle can do except hug the ground and pray. 

It was hell all around us….there was no front or rear….it was like fighting a war from inside a circle…..and with the snow…..there would be no darkness to cover things. Here…everything would be illuminated….like war in Valley View stadium on a fall Friday night

So when I took the fragments it just stung at first….there were too many other things to worry about really. Just like a pinch….in the leg and wrist. But our hole was filling up with blood. My buddy pointed out to me that it was my blood. 

Right then…..that little pinch. The war was over. Wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I got weaker. In and out I guess. My buddies got me out of there. Somehow.

I’ve seen the movies too ya know. The ones where the soldier get killed….all dramatic like. Clutching a picture of his sweetheart to his chest while his buddy holds his head up for one last sip from his canteen….and he breathes real hard and calls for his mother….and the music comes up louder and louder…and then his eyes close and he shrivels up like he was a balloon and somebody let the air out of him. And then there he is. Laying there. Nice and clean, and dead. Not a mark on him

Well…it’s hard to clutch a picture of your sweetheart to your chest when you don’t have any arms left. Or maybe there’s a hole where your chest used to be. And I can honestly say that I never heard a G.I. with his head blown clean off cry for his Mamma. 

But I was lucky. You can’t tell me God is neutral. You can’t. Somehow He got me out of there. 

And before I know it I’m back in England…..I woke up on clean sheets and immediately thought it was heaven. But a pretty nurse said….”Not really…..but I’ll tell Churchill you said so …...” (laughs)

It was so quiet. Without the background noise…..the guns, the screams, the planes…the tanks….without all that….it was deafening in that hospital. 

So quiet that my ears hurt.

I couldn’t wait to get out of there….and eventually I got sent back to Jersey on a troop ship. I got a 10 day furlough, and on my first day 2 MPs picked me up. They didn’t tell me why at first, so I was trying to think why I’d be arrested. I just started my furlough, so I hadn’t done anything wrong….yet (laughs)

They finally told me that I was to report to the White House…..to receive the Congressional Medal of Honor.

This is not standard stuff for guys from Peckville. It’s like being told that you’re going to the North Pole to meet Santa Claus.

And it’s funny about the army. They move so slow…..and they lull you to sleep with all the paperwork. But when they finally decide to move you can be in one part of the world one day and on the moon the next. 

So the next day I’m standing in the White House with Harry Truman….and here’s a guy I can finally look in the eye ‘cause he’s as short as me. I’d seen pictures of him…with those glasses that made him look like a History Teacher at Jessup High School or something….but he seemed a lot older in person than what I remembered seeing. And then I guess it dawned on me that I didn’t much look like a 19 year old anymore..so why should the president look his age? The war business ages everybody. 

Anyway…you expect the President to look …I don’t know…..FDR just sorta looked like a President….right down to that cigarette holder. Truman looked like the guy standing next to you in the chow line. 

But behind those wire frames were eyes that had seen the same things as me…..and when he put the medal around me neck he leans over and says….”Kid…..I’d trade this job to be where you’re standing right now.”

I never considered trading places with him for a minute.

So the war was over. And I came home. Had a big parade for me…and pretty soon they put me up in front of 500 people and I told them that I’d rather be on a battlefield any day than make a speech. I was 21 years old by now…..and all I could think about was going back to school. High School. You finish what you start. Somebody mentioned that I was probably the only high school student that was a Congressional Medal of Honor winner. It was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done…..but I finished. There were times the kids would be staring at me like I was the Easter bunny or something….this old man in their class. 

But I did it. One of the things I’m most proud of..

And not long ago I was speaking to about the same amount of people. 500 or so. High School students. Telling them about the war. And it was a bad day and the Parkinson’s was making me shake…..made me shake so much that I couldn’t finish. So right from the start I never felt comfortable talking about myself….and now there’s some days that I couldn’t do it even if I wanted to.

You picked a good day.

Oh sure….I came home a hero…..that’s what everybody said…right?

(slightly sarcastic) And now I had the medal to prove it too so trying to deny it only made people sore. 

But other than Mary and the kids…..I could never quite make the connection I had made with my fellow soldiers. I got lots of acquaintances….but few friends. And up till now the only people I’d confide in were other soldiers. 

But it’s time. And you seem like a good boy.

(Sudden sound of an impatient car horn. Maybe a guy yelling…”cmon, hurry up willya!” Gino smiles slightly, referring to the sound with his next line)

Hear that? (shaking his head)

For years I reveled in things like clean socks….and warm food….a hot shower….sheets….the peculiar sensation of not worrying that somebody was shooting at you. And little things like that started to seem absurd. Folks blowing their horn….or complaining about the wait for a bus….or lukewarm coffee. It was like coming back to another world.

Can I quote a poem to you without you holding it against me? (laughs)

Joseph, we’ve all got a touch of the poet in us. Some just bury it deeper is all.

(laughs)

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by
Sneak home and pray you’ll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go

You like that one?

One of my favorites.

Being with Vets made me feel whole again. So I spent 45 years working for the VA. Doing my duty….the way a soldier is supposed to. It’s not only the fighting. It’s the healing too. 

And they even plan on naming a place for Vets after me. 

(lighthearted) Don’t you worry….I got my sources.

The Gino J. Merli Veterans Center. Bastards know I won’t put up with that so they’re  just waiting until I die to change the sign. (laughs)

It does have a nice ring to it too though (smiles)

Maybe working with the Vets….maybe that was my purgatory. Or maybe this is. I don’t know yet.

(long pause)

And each time the boys went off the fight….Korea, Viet Nam….another part of me starts to tremble…..from the inside it seemed like. It’s hard to forget that the men who send boys off the fight don’t do any actual fighting themselves…..but the boys do their duty. American boys always did…..and always will. And sometimes they’d come home whole, and sometimes in pieces that needed to be put back together. And if there was any way I could help…..then I would. They could tell me about what they’d seen…and not get a look of…what?….. incomprehension in return. Veterans coming home speak a different language….and you can’t learn it by reading books. You can’t learn it by getting degrees. You can only learn it by being in that hole….by watching the enemy move in silhouette. And by spilling somebody’s blood.

By being……a sinner.

(long pause…growing suddenly weary now……)

Can we call it a day now? My sister is gonna come by and take me to the store soon. We’ve got lots of time. You come back. Next week is fine. Same day. I got lots of letters and things in the cellar. We can go through that stuff. Ok?

I hope you are getting what you need. I’m trying like heck to be interesting. (smiles) 

(final thought occurs to him. Wants to get this out before Buckland leaves)

Some kid who wanted to write something about me…like you do…..he asked me one time…..he said “Gino….you had to lose faith….at least for a day….an hour….a minute….dammit for a few seconds…..you had too…” 

I never did.

There were lots of things I had to search for….but God was never one of them.

(lets this sink in)

Thanks again. See you next week (shaking invisible hand again……this time his hand is trembling much more noticeably than before)

(Gino is now alone. He sits down under the tree. He fans himself from the heat……and closes his eyes to keep the sweat out of his eyes. He yells inside..)

Mary? Tell (sister’s name?) that I’m back here. She should be here soon. No….I’m ok. Really. I’m just going to rest a while. Ok?

(a few long moments pass. lighting starts to get lower. Gino appears distressed now. Clutches his chest. Takes deep breaths….falls from the chair onto the ground….and then…darkness. He’s dead. Lights back up now. Eerie lighting representing another world. Gino stands. He reaches out his hand now……towards the sky)

It’s time isn’t it? Is he with you?

I’ve prayed for this moment since that night. But am I ready to face him? Does he want to face me?

Did he die that night?

(resignation) So I killed him?

How badly did he suffer? 

It was such a long night. I heard him calling out. Crying. He was calling for something…or maybe someone. It was in German. I couldn’t understand.

Well….it was him or me…right?

That should make me feel better…maybe it does.

Just give me a minute….OK?

(notices the audience now. Not sure who they are or what they represent. He takes a step towards them with an outstretched hand, as if to touch them, but stops short. Then he pulls his arm back and speaks)

No. It doesn’t matter.

The ugly American…..even keeping the Lord waiting (laughs)

Can pass this along to that writer for me?

I went back to Sars la Bruyere….found the very spot. I brought Mary with me….and no sooner had we gotten there than I got so ill I had to be put to bed. I was in bed for days….so sick I could hardly move. It was like somebody didn’t want me there. Somebody was reminding me that there was nothing hallowed about this piece of ground. It was ugly…bloody….contaminated maybe with the kind of blind hatred that only war can produce. And maybe I forgot that and needed to be reminded. So many nights I dreamt about the place…..the bodes stacked like wooden planks in front of my gun….and I thought that if I could only see if again…maybe the bodies would rise from the dead…..like I did. 

Maybe what I’d done could somehow be undone. The grass would have grown….the fields would have yet again borne fruit. The blood long ago washed away by 1000 rains.

But no. It’s the same place. Contaminated by war….and it made me sick.

(long pause)

God I’m tired.

(slumps wearily in a chair….rubbing his eyes. when he looks ahead….he seems startled at first…..but then a strange calmness comes over him as he addresses the spirit of “his” German.)

It’s you…..

I was just about to step over.

I’m glad you waited for me.

We’ve got time now you know. All the time in the world. We don’t have to do this now. We don’t have to push things.

You prayed for me?

I prayed for you too. Can you tell me what you were crying out that night? What were the words?

(long pause….lets the answer sink in)

(says the German softly, slowly, carefully) Ich will nach Hause gehen.

I wanted to go home too.

I still do.

Shall we go together?

(he stands to lead him away)

(Lights. End of Play)