Maitland What are you talking about?

Chichester The Celts! Ha! Very fashionable, the Celts, with the arty-crafty. Ley-lines. Druids. But show them the real thing – an Irishman with a gun, or under a blanket in an H-block and they run a mile.

If King Arthur walked out of those trees, now – know what he’d look like to us? One more fucking mick.

Maitland You’re a maverick, Tom Chichester. And a romantic and a bloody menace. God! I joined the Army for tanks. Where are my tanks? On the banks of the River Rhine. Where am I? Poking about on foot, in an Irish field.

This may be some kind of crusade for you. But for me – Irish, Celt, they’re all murdering bastards.

Chichester Look, old regimental chum. I out-rank you.

Maitland I thought that was coming. Sir. (Offering the pistol and the whisky flask.) You want these back?

Chichester Not in full view!

Maitland There’s no sign –

Chichester They’re here. They’re always here. This is their bloody country. If they saw you take them off me – you’ve done for me, old chum. Give me the whisky and drop the gun in the straw.

Maitland does so.

Now get me that Corporal.

Maitland Corporal!

Corporal Sir! (He approaches.)

Chichester Corporal. Why are Catholic tarts the best?

Corporal Er –

Maitland Answer Corporal. This is an officer.

Chichester Because they’ve got rhythm. Sir.

Corporal!

Corporal Sir?

Chichester Who was the hardest man who worked on the M1 Motorway?

Corporal An Irishman who got his cock stuck in the cement, Sir!

Chichester And Corporal –

Corporal Sir?

A short silence.

Chichester What does careless talk cost?

Corporal Lives Sir!

Chichester Your balls for sure. Tell every man in this field that.

Corporal Sir.

Chichester Now hit me again.

Corporal Sir?

Chichester I am an Irish labourer in a field, who gave you some lip.

So hit me hard.

Maitland Do it.

The Corporal hits Chichester in the stomach. Chichester doubles up.

Chichester (shouts in Northern Irish) Hey, Soldier. You know what your Queen is? A cunt wrapped up in a Union Jack.

The Corporal kicks Chichester, angrily.

Maitland All right thank you Corporal!

Corporal Sir!

Maitland Pack up here.

Corporal Sir. (To the Soldiers:) All right. That’s it. Back to the transport. (He moves away.)

Maitland You’re probably a brave man. But I think you’re off your head.

Chichester That may get me the first Victoria Cross in Ireland.

Maitland Only if we declare war.

Chichester Quite. Now stop endangering my life and limb and get out of here. Right away.

Maitland Right –

Chichester Bob, if I get bumped off ask my mother to throw my ashes on the Old Acre field.

Maitland I –

Chichester My mother is a stern old cow. Insist.

Maitland Are you serious?

Chichester Fuck off.

Maitland Yes. Goodbye.

Chichester Toodle-oo.

Maitland walks away quickly. The Soldiers go off at the back.

Chichester, alone. He sits. He covers his face with his hands. Then he drinks from the flask and lies down, curled up.