Навіщо. What For

Dramatis personae:

Theseus, 35, a Kyivite. computer programmer, wastes a lot of time in social networks, avoids taking actual part in the war but follows its developments closely.

Laurel, 29, an ironic dreamer born in a small village in Poltava oblast,’ has only held odd jobs, was on the Maidan, and sees the war as a logical continuation of the struggle for changes in the country.

Veles (Dmytro), 37, a policeman from Horlivka, his ex-wife and daughter still live there, who left police work two years before the war began. When the town was taken over by the enemy he joined a volunteer battalion.

The Poet, 50, a Kiyvite, served in the Afghanistan with the Sovirt Army, worked for a weekly newspaper until it closed, then earned a living as a translator, writes poetry.

Slon (The Elephant), 46, an American citizen, son of immigrants who had left Odessa, professional soldier, served with the US Forces in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Somalia.

Strilka, 23, completed a philosophy degree a year ago, but never got a job in her field, volunteered in the medical services during the Maidan, joined the volunteer battalion as a medic.

Tetyana, 37, a Horlivka resident, former classmate of Veles (Dmytro), married to Chervonets (Ponchyk), housewife.

Chervonets (Ponchyk), 37, a Horlivka resident, worked as a dispatcher in a mine, joined the military because ‘everyone was doing it,’ Tetyana’s husband, her and Veles' former classmate.

Martynov, 46, a Russian Army officer who comes from a military dynasty, holds the rank of Major, lived in Blahovieshchens’k, come and commands a local militia unit in Ukraine.

Nastya, 27, knows Laurel from the Maidan, she gets Theseus to help the fighters, doesn’t appear on stage.

Scene 1

Theseus (sitting in front of his computer screen)

— August 24th. The main headlines. “Roofer-extremist Hryhoriy, known as Mustang, painted part of Moscow University’s roof blue and yellow to say Happy Ukrainian Independence Day.” Hope he made it to Kyiv. They’ve been searching for him in Moscow for 2 days. The star he painted was very high up. There’s a military parade on the Khreshchatyk. Petro Poroshenko says, “These latest events will be called the Great Patriotic War of 2014…” Well, he didn’t call it the Great Patriotic War [Soviet term used instead of World War II, refers to 1941-45 only, ignoring the years of the Nazi-Soviet Pact]. I guess that means that he thinks it’s a small war… And it will end by New Year’s Eve… Let’s hope that happens… “The military hardware will go straight to the front after the parade, to the Anti-Terrorist Operation.” This is all a big show… Who needs this, we’re all getting sick of it… Yes, some unwelcome guests have come to our Independence Day Party. “On the morning of the 24th Russian tanks attacked Starobeshevo. Fighting between Starobeshevo and Kuteinikovo. Dozens killed, many wounded in the battle in Yelenivka…” Hey, look, there’s a regatta on the Kyiv Sea… Except that all our seas are being taken from us, and no one is batting an eyelash… Oh no… “Ukrainian Prisoners-of-war were paraded on Donets’k’s main street, Artema St. Then they brought out street cleaning machines to wash down the pavement. So that it would look exactly like Moscow in 1945…” These people are really sick. And who were those locals who watched, and cursed our fighters? Have they really always lived among us, on our land? “Donbass” press service cancels invitation to journalists to celebrate Independence Day with the fighters near Kurakhovo. The Battalion is in mourning. Some of their comrades were killed while withdrawing from Ilovais’k… They seem to be holding out well: “The volunteers control half of the city, the half that they liberated from the enemy. The city is divided by in half by a set of train tracks. They have taken up a strategically advantageous position in a school…”

Scene 2

A classroom in an Ilovais’k school. Headquarters of the volunteer battalion’s intelligence service. Tables, manuals, a globe, a blackboard. Veles walks up to the blackboard and writes: “24 August. Assignment.” Then he steps back and admires what he wrote. Laurel climbs up on a desk and hangs a Ukrainian flag above the blackboard, but yellow side on top. He jumps down, also picks up a piece of chalk, and writes “Happy Independence Day.”

Veles (looks at the flag)

— Turn it right side up!

Laurel

— It is right side up!

Veles

— What are you talking about?

Laurel

— The sun is on top and the sea is underneath it. This is the way the flag should be hung. I turned the flags right side up like this on the Christmas tree on the Maidan.

Veles

— Didn’t you have anything better to do?

Laurel

— What do you mean nothing better to do? By the way, why didn’t I see you on the Maidan?

Veles

— I had things to do in Donbas.

Laurel

— Sure! And now we all have the things to do here. OK, now do your assignment.

He walks up to the board and writes, in capital letters, "HOW I SPENT MY SUMMER."

Strilka

— Hey, guys, don’t argue. All Laurel did was climb up on a Christmas tree. Today someone climbed up a high-rise in Moscow and painted its star yellow and blue.

Laurel

— Amazing! Give me time and I’ll leave my mark on the the Kremlin...

Slon

— Back home, we always go to a barbeque on Independence Day.

Laurel

— Is that like going to pick up girls, Slon?

Slon

— No, it’s like a a kind of picnic.

Veles

— We call that a it ‘shashlyk’, Slon. Shash-lyk. Is that where you fry your turkeys?

Slon

— No, we do that on Thanksgiving Day.

Laurel

— What sort of holiday is that?

Slon

— Well, you help the poor, or whoever needs help, and they’re thankful to you for that.

Laurel

— I get it! Volunteer’s Day!

Everybody laughs.

Slon

— We also have this competition on Independence Day where everyone tries to eat as many hotdogs as they can.

Laurel

— I could eat three dozen right about now… Veles, let’s go see if we can catch some pigeons for our holiday meal. Elf tried some yesterday, he said they were better than chicken…

Veles

— OK, let’s go. Don’t forget your helmet. There’s a lot more than pigeons flying around there because of the holiday. You know, I was just thinking, I’ve never celebrated Independence Day before, didn’t see the point…

The Poet

— This is what I’ll record for the history books: ‘Fighters of the Volunteer Battalion plan to eat a bird that symbolizes peace during their special military assignment on Ukrainian Independence Day.’

Veles (to the Poet)

— Oh, by any chance, do you…

The Poet turns around. His bullet proof vest says, “I have no cigarettes.” And underneath that, it says, “I mean it.”

Everybody laughs. Encouraged, the poet continues to play the crowd and reads a poem he’s just written. Everybody listens.

The Poet

— Cigarettes are over. Smoking makes a life shorter and anticipates the death. If I were you, I would give up this bad habit... Strilka, better give that smokers some vitamins...

Strilka

— All vitamins have been already eaten up. They are locusts, not volunteers

Veles

— Ears are bloating..Oh, tell us a poem, huh?

The Poet

— For bloated ears to wither?

Laurel

— Just read, the Poet. I saw you have been painiting something in your book all morning..

The Poet

— I drew from nature..Well.. Listen then.

“When it comes time to rest,

fighters go into schools.

they go into classrooms, shift desks,

lay down their sleeping bags near blackboards,

lay down their guns on teacher’s desks,

and smile when they see Grade 8 Physics,

as if it was an old friend they met by chance.

and then wrinkle their foreheads in concentration,

for the task is too complicated.

where is that schoolgirl with her excellent knowledge

that will give a hint?—

she’s sitting in the basement

without light, food or a phone,

frantically raising money for

a plastic prosthetic hand

for one who teased her in class and fought,

and now has lost his own hand in battle.

or maybe she is just sitting in the kitchen

and keeps dialing

a subscriber who’s already in heaven,

but it hasn’t been reported yet,

because when it comes to arithmetic, our government

is scoring a failing grade

so who is next? and who is absent?

is there any good reason why

the place is empty?!

these are their universities,

this is the school of life and death,

a peculiar concept of the fragility of happiness

that you won’t find in manuals.

and whoever returns with an A,

will be different from all those who remain,

for he’s seen so much

there isn’t a desk big enough to scratch that story on.

Veles claps his hands. Laurel is smiling.

Laurel

— Well, actually, I was flipping through a Math book, not a Physics book, and it was grade three not grade eight…

The Poet smiles a conspiratorial smile, reaches into a pocket inside the bullet proof vest, pulls out a small flask, unscrews the cap, which turns into a shot glass, and pours for everyone.

The Poet

— Well, here’s to our independence. We got it without spilling a drop of blood 23 years ago. Now we’re paying the price.

Everyone is nodding, getting more serious and drinking.

The Poet

— You know, when they were withdrawing us from Afghanistan,

I told the guys, this is the end of the sovok [pejorative slang for Soviet],

Ukraine’s going to be independent.

And they all said, well, how is that possible,

it can only happen if there’s bloodshed,

who needs that. We didn’t want blood back then.

And managed without it.

But it caught up to us now…

Scene 3

Another school in Ilovais’k where Russian soldiers are located.

Martynov (picks up a Russian Literature textbook from the floor)

— You wanna say that the banderovtsi taught Pushkin?

Chervonets

— Sure. And Lermontov.

Martynov (begins reciting)

— Two days we were in a firing.

What is a sense in such unaffair?

We did waited the third day.

Everywhere the speeches became audible:

It is time to reach a case-shot!

And here the night shade has fallen

In the field of the terrible fight…[2]

— We’ll also start at night. We’ll feed them with their independence… their damn holiday!.. They’ll crawl like warms if survive. We’ll cover them with fireworks. How do you like it, the fireworks?

Chervonets

— Sure thing! Our folks would blast the whole thing till the early morning, the car would scream, dogs would bark... Well, it was like that before. Now everyone is used to another reality…

Martynov

— Well, at least got used to it. Today ears will be plugged (checks whether the grenade launcher is loaded). Since you feel hurt, buddy, you complain, and yet we have only a skirmish. For you, brother, I arrived here from Blagoveshchensk to offer my life and you’re complaining that you’re either hungry or not well enough armed.

Chervonets

— We wanted it like the Crimea—chpok!—and we’re in Russia, and have all of those wages, pensions.

Martynov

— If Ukraine was about to pay, would you celebrate its independence, ha? You’re a slave, Chervonets, a true slave. That’s because you’re not a Cossack. Here I am—a nobleman from mother’s side and a Don Cossack from father’s. Blood is a powerful thing! You know what the present means for me? The Black Day! I saw the Great State to fall. After the breakup of the Soviet Union I served in Central Asia and saw with my own eyes how much blood was spilled on the peripheries of Russia. Our forefathers brought the Caucasus, they brought Siberia. To save them from decay! We’ll save the Donbas and Ukraine! I do not fight here for your money, Chervonets! I've been fighting against the West, for them Russia is a thorn in the side.

Chervonets

— No objections, man! But tell me why the Crimean folks pig out in peace while we’re starving here between the bullets? They would rob tourists like boobs, while I was grubbing. I wasn’t just a miner, though, I was a dispatcher. Nonetheless, I worked like a dog!

Martynov

— Let’s go elbow-bending, you dispatcher!

Chervonets

— I have nothing to offer you, man.

Martynov

— Ask your wife.

Chervonets

— She kicked me out…

Tetyana (comes in)

— Now you got it! Swilled my perfumes yesterday!.. You cuckoo! Now consider this day your own independence day. You’re independent from me and Tiomka. Turn yourself loose! Don’t like the Ukrainian holiday, have your personal!

Chervonets

— Everybody drinks. Each and everybody. The war is around.

Tetyana

— We lived like descent people! Payed out for our car— look at it now!—with a roof sawn off and a machine gun sticking out of it. You were calling this war, you were begging for it from your Raseyushka! Eat it now, drink unless you burst, watch it unless your eyes jump out from their sockets!

Martynov

— Dear, I-don’t-know-what-is-your-name-and-patronymic…

Tetyana

— Tetyana. No patronymic.

Martynov:

— "Tetyana was her name…" Could you bring us vodka?

Tetyana

— I kicked him out because of vodka!

Martynov

— That was the right decision. A drunk soldier serves the enemy. But this is a special occasion—we didn’t give up the town and today we’ll liberate it completely. And fair governors will come and establish order. Our brothers and sisters deserve a better life than they had under the banderovtsy.

Tetyana

— Are you mad? What are you talking about? These are the same people who are in charge. They started this to remain close to the trough and continue licking Putin’s ass, to keep robing millions from us and tour around Europe and America! Bloody helpers, go home!

Chervonets

— Tania, please, be quite and go away!

Martynov

— Who am I, you think, a beast? I don’t fight with dumb women. Bring us vodka and go to hell with God. By the way, why did you come? Spying, bitch?

Tetyana (to Chervonets)

— Give me the keys. I’ll bring the kid to the village. For now, it’s safe there. Yurka goes there with his family. He said there’s a place in his car.

Chervonets (looks for the keys in his pocket and gives them to her)

— Be careful. It might start now…

Martynov (clamps the bolt)

— Come on! Tell this dirty Ukrainian spy where it will start. You’ll get down just here. And I’ll erect a headstone for you with the inscription, ‘she lived happily and died on the same day.’ Your grandchildren will be jealous. If you ever have any.

Tetyana

— Shoot! Or one more poem?’ I write this to you—what more can be said? What more can I add to that one fact? For now I know it is in your power To punish me contemptuously for this act. But you, keeping for my unhappy lot Even one drop of sympathy Will not entirely abandon me*.

Martynov (puts down his gun)

— Get out of here, bitch, while I’m kind! You dispatcher, find us vodka! Get it out from the ground, miner!

Scene 4

Theseus (surfing on Facebook)

— Commander… Our men occupied half of Ilovaisk. There, right across the railroad (just on the other side of the train tracks?), is our enemy. They’re calling for reinforcements backup… Their Joint Staff is only giving them promises… The protest is, as it seems, today… Well… Like!.. Share… Well, they know better in the Joint Staff… And I’m not a friend with anyone from there.

…Money for the injured… At his classmate’s request. I could help… He looks like our Kolia. Hm… No, that’s not him. .. An orphanage, moved out of the Luhanks region: shoes and clothes are needed. Parents, that’s what those kids need! Who’s gonna take them after this, they panic and scream when a balloon pops …

…Let’s see. Gathering money for a sniper scope?! A balk of money! No, I won’t contribute. This is for murder. Killing naive people who are brainwashed by propaganda is a crime. Moreover, politicians just keep holding meetings and shaking hands. No, war should be the warriors’ business.

…Oh, Ilovaisk, again… It seems like the circle is closed. It contains eight thousands of our soldiers. That’s a lot. And everybody’s silent about it. In Kyiv, they will celebrate Independence Day. There will be fireworks. Or there won’t be… They say that shots frighten refugees from Donbas. No, there won’t be any. But how can they celebrate without fireworks?..

…A parade of vyshyvankas (Ukrainian embroidered shirts)… A sailing regatta… They paraded prisoners from our side through the streets of Donetsk. The path through hatred?… What would I feel? Perhaps, I’d simply think how not to stumble, lest the rest of the chain fall on me. I would twitch if there were fireworks, perhaps. And I would not raise my head.

Scene 5

The sound of explosion. The door in the class suddenly opens. Laurel drags Veles, who’s leg is injured. Strilka runs in with bandages and sponge with celox.

Strilka

— What’s there?

Laurel

— He’ll live.

Veles

— I will. But not for long.

Strilka cuts his trousers and bandages wounds that are not too deep.

Veles

— Now sew it back. I don’t have an extra uniform.

Strilka

— Everything was torn apart. If you started pulling it, there would be a blood flood.

Veles

— You’re too sloppy, Strilka. No one will marry you.

Slon

— For that purpose we have trousers with velcro.

Laurel

— If everything is the way it has to be in your army, why are you alone here? Why not all of it?

Slon

— I’m not the one to answer that question. My agenda is simple: I want to fight, that’s why I’m here.

Strilka

— Why not to marry someone instead? You can fight on the matrimonial battlefield.

Slon

— Who? You? I don’t mind. Let’s do it right now! Suspicious Laurel will be the witness; Poet will fix it for history. Leave a bit of bandage for your bridal veil…

Strilka

— No, as Veles say, I am sloppy. And I don’t know anything about you.

Slon

— A soldier by vocation, born in Odessa in a typical Jewish family. I played the violin, drew still lives—a pear and an apple, a pear without the apple, very sharp. My parents moved to Brighton where I attended school. When I was sixteen, they died in a car crash. I started washing dishes in a cafe in Queens, fought with the blacks and ended up in a hospital. When I got out with only five dollars in my pocket, I felt abandoned by the entire world. And then I saw a girl on the corner of the street I was passing by with leaflets: “Want attractive cloths, nutritious food, travel around the world? The US Army is waiting for you!” And I applied. After Iraq I built a house in New Jersey. I could stay there watching my wall size TV. But I had heard about Ukraine and decided to come along, believe me or not.

Poet

— We believe you. And I write it all down.

Laurel

— What a neat fairytale! Very much like something you’d hear from a Russian spy.

Slon

— I’ve followed Russians with my gunpoint in South Ossetia. So don’t be silly. My patience has limits.

Laurel (spins the sphere)

— Where is that Ossetia? Ah, here it is! Have you been to Australia?

Slon

— No. Why are you asking?

Laurel

— They have this lovely weapon called boomerang: what you give away is what you get back. I wish Russians used exactly the same. Then the war would be over.

Veles

— Don’t you have a feeling that we also use a sort of boomerang? It’s like ping pong, but more heavy. With launchers… There’s nothing left from my house in Horlivka but ruins. I’m glad that my family stayed in the basement when a shell heated the house. There were two shells: both from our side.

Poet

— How’s your family?

Veles

— Thanks God, all alive. My ex-wife works for DPR tax administration.

Poet

— Do you talk to each other?

Veles

— We have to. Because of our daughter. Not because of politics. My sister is in the local hospital. She’s an ophthalmologist, nurses militants so that they could see better and shoot accurately. Whenever I call, she yells at me calling a zombie and Nazis’s recruit. I was trying to explain her that this is the time when our nation is to be born, that this war is for the true independence. 23 years it was something else. I told her that we're of the same blood, and she would immediately respond, ”I don’t hear you, goodbye!” Tell me, Slon, how you fought for independence in America?!

Slon

— Oh, I don’t remember, it was a long time ago. 240 years or so. And the war lasted about eight years. I’m not sure who fought … Did the blacks and Indians?.. Ah, I’m not a fond of history. Even though my house looks like a castle— a fence with battlement and a tower on the second floor…

Strilka

— And there’s a heavyset American wife inside this tower who unceasingly chews her humbuggers and looks out through the window trying to reach you with her gaze that stretches out over the ocean.

Slon

— There’s no one there. Only a housemaid comes once a week. I discharged water in the swimming pool. Sometimes chipmunks come there from the forest close by and can’t get out…

Strilka

— Chipmunks… That’s too cute!.. I can barely hold back my tears…

Laurel

— I know them. They are like squirrels but with strips.

Veles

— You don’t give a damn that I’m injured!

Poet

— Consider we don’t. The commander told that there won’t be any transport for injured any more. Who was brought out, is a survivor. Covered our Cauldron.

Strilka (whistling)

— So it goes… with chipmunks.

Scene 1

Theseus (from the news feed)

— Ten days without reinforcements, and here it is. Press office of the “Donbass” battalion — columns have been formed and the route out of the encirclement has been defined and agreed upon. The Defence Minister of the DNR — a number of armed units of the Ukrainian army began to move to get out of the encirclement, these actions have nothing to do with the humanitarian corridor, it is a military operation to break out of the encirclement. It looks like our guys have a problem. They have been without food and water for a day, with their wounded. The Green Corridor is a bluff..

As the result of the shelling of the humanitarian corridor that terrorists were supposed to provide for the withdrawal of Ukrainian servicemen from Ilovaysk, Donetsk region, ATO forces suffered huge losses. Hundreds of Ukrainian soldiers have been killed; hundreds have been captured, — reported eyewitnesses. The situation around the situation of the Ukrainian military by Ilovaisk has been deliberately escalated by Russian Secret Services to discredit the military leadership of Ukraine. Ilovaysk is being used to escalate tensions — at the briefing the Advisor to the Minister of Defence told the reporters.

— Oh... Father of the fighter, call sign Poltava, what he told him by phone?

In the open field the column has been shelled by artillery and tanks.

No corridor, volunteers have been betrayed and failed, stupid shot.

An Armoured Division on one side, an Airborne Regiment on the other. They were waiting for us, they had prepared. All armoured military trucks — with one shot ... he saw the car, which broke through with several soldiers on top, raced closer to Zelenka (the cover of trees) on the move picking the unmounted, which managed to grab the metal... and on their corpses, on the trees, through the ravines, under fire as in the shooting range… Hell lowered to the ground?

— … And what’s with him? .. Father writes that now they have to decide whether to surrender.. And think if there is any other way ...

Scene 2

Martynov and Chervonets are at the maps.

Martynov

— Go out at Krasnoselskoe and wait for the column. They will be said to go out along the green corridor. There's the open field. We’ll fertilize the field for winter.

Chervonets

— Understand.

Martynov

— I do not understand, and Yes, sir, Comrade Major.

Chervonets

— Understand

Martynov

— Hasn’t a trolley fallen on your head in that mine?

Chervonets (raises the automatic gun from the desk, looks at the trigger, checks with his finger, then puts the automatic gun in place, Martynov is closely monitoring his actions — his machine gun is away)

— Not yet

Martynov (reconciling)

— Actually, No, Comrade Major, but oh well. Your ex is Ukrainian, that’s why she is so evil?

Chervonets

— No, Comrade Major, Russian. I am Ukrainian.

Martynov

— I do not understand this thing ...

Chervonets

— Yes, Comrade Major, you do not understand. Let's go!

Scene 3

The field, remains of burned cars. Soldiers come one by one.

Slon

— The Artist said to go into captivity. Russian officer gave his word that he will not kill. Major has already collected his belongings. Kuzma is going, Seven, Sam, a lot of ours.

There is already a mountain composed of machineguns. The wounded are taken. — There was one who approached to me, asked to bandage his head with the blood — I’ll go as the wounded, if they find out — they’ll kill me. I, he said, was the hero of the Maidan.

Veles

— And what about you?

Slon

— I bandaged. He is bullshit, but not a hero. How are you?

Veles — I'll be going out. I can’t go to captivity. If they find out — they’ll kill me. I used to be a filed police officer, retired for two years. My godfathers are half of insurgents.

Laurel

— All mine were in fire brigade station. I did not have time to get to them, some seconds, even was offended, that they had gone. The tank and two ATGM. All, all of them perished... Eighth, Red, Bani, Achim ...

Slon

— Let’s go together. I cannot be captured too. And even Captain Rybnikov may talk in his sleep in his native Japanese...

Poet

— And I wanted to ask, where did you study Russian language and literature? Parents?

Slon

— Yes, Brighton. There's no one who spoke English. They arrived in a foreign country, but were confident that everyone understands them in Russian. When in Rome… That's how I realized what happened here in the Donbass — the same Russian resettlement, confident that they are at home. Are you going or staying?

Poet

— My grandfather, father’s dad, he came to Berlin, said that captivity was worse than death. Even as I was to Afghanistan, said it on the home-leaving party. A maternal grandfather fought in the UPA. He died at 90.

He knew that this war would happen. Waited for it. Died a year before. He would not go into captivity, would sooner explode himself with a grenade.

By the way, has anybody got a grenade? Well, extra ...

Laurel

— Here, hold.

Poet

— Will you stay here?

Laurel

— I ‘ll go out. I’ll hurry because my beloved is waiting. And I have three grenades, well, now two. I have enough.

Poet

— What have you invented?

Laurel

— What are you talking about?

Poet

— About grenades. I see in the eyes.

Laurel

— Well, I'll throw a grenade — a ring remains. Well, check. And so I’ll do twice.

Poet

— So what?

Laurel

— I’ll do wedding-rings for us. After the war.

Poet (shakes his head, well, well)

— Then gather food, water. While it’s quiet, we’ll go straight across the field.

Strilka (comes closer)

— I'm with you

Poet

— We have Veles lame. Ask Guy, they will go faster. They’re all commandos, Marines.

Strilka

— They’ve already left. I asked to, and they as if didn’t hear...

Maybe they really did not hear. There were just two contused, they have buzzing in the head...

Laurel

— So you seemed to have ridden by “hazelka”(jeep/van)?..

Strilka

— There is no “hazelka” any more. No one survived ... Do not ask for I can’t keep myself.

Slon

— Let’s go already. Marry — no, but simply so — yes.

Strilka

— So I'd better marry. Just not so scary.

Scene 1

Field. Martynov and Chervonets with binoculars.

Martynov We’ll give out the injured tomorrow. A few already have died. And we can make the captives march through the town.

Chervonets

— But recently there has been such parade.

Martynov

— Well, people liked it. A spectacle! You can make them march almost every day. And each day a new group. It’s a pity, my grandfather did not live till now, he fought the Nazis. My mother has the sewing machine from Berlin since then. They are fascists, fascists herd, nurtured by America. Make them trample their blue and yellow cloth, make them shout “Glory to Russia”. Look in the bushes, a lot of vipers escaped while we were packing, they will crawl out.

Chervonets

— Not far from here Tetyana with the son… in a small village. God forbid her to be exposed to punishers.

Martynov

— What’s wrong? We’ll find you a young patriot to marry, such that a cup of vodka stands on her tits.

Chervonets

— So come on, you first.

Martynov

— Donna Rosa, I am an old soldier, and I do not know the words of love

Scene 2

Night. Field of pumpkins. The whole group sleeps, having closely gathered in one nest. Someone holds that who’s next in the dream, someone holds an unripe pumpkin.

Veles

— In my former life I was a woman for sure .

Laurel (sleepily)

— Beautiful?

Veles

— Exactly!

Laurel

— What were you doing?

Veles

— Didn’t fight for sure . Probably, was growing up orchids. Do you like orchids? White orchids?

Laurel

— No, if white flowers, then strawberry.

And if to search, then somewhere near the flower there will be a berry ... The best taste in the world. You’d better sleep.

Veles

— Yes. The stars are shining so bright…That it’s impossible to sleep.

Laurel

— It's not the stars, it’s a tracer

Veles

— Oh to the deuce with you. Only imagine, there near the star there is the same planet, the same people. But, for example, everybody exactly knows how much he lives. As one-day insect knows. And they too. And all of them have the same life.

Laurel

— So I have my hundred years and everybody has hundred too? As you want you’ll divide?

Veles

— That’s it. I would not marry for thirty years, I’d travel around the entire planet, all countries, all seas ... Then for ten years I’d be sitting in the house in the woods, remember... Well, not lonely, of course ...

Laurel

How could you become a policeman, such a romantic?

Veles

— I am surprised myself.

Poet

— Is anybody going to sleep? During the day he is calling so that we all could be detected, shouting that he’s alive, that he loves, comes soon, as if he is one stop away, and at night…

Laurel

— Well, I did not shout, I quietly ... She is just the best in the world and she’s waiting for me.

Poet

— Exactly so. Do you know this parable? When a man died and asked the God about the sense of his life. The God told him: “You were going on a business trip in your youth, remember? No, he says, but there was something like that. — So you went to the dining car, and there was a woman at the next table who asked for salt, and you gave it. Remember? — Well, I remember something ... — So that’s it”

Veles

— We are now between heaven and hell. Both pulls ...

Slon

— Now I will draw you that much you’d feel! The sky is becoming lighter? Let’s get up and go. One by one — to the fence of that hut. The first one gets, gives a sign, what’s there: food-water-map , we take binoculars and watch. Check the submachine gun and that’s all.

Veles

— And who’s the first?

Slon

The one who asks goes.

Veles

— But I’ve a problem with my leg ...

Slon

— So, you won’t hurry.

Scene 3

Tetyana, Veles

Tetyana leaves the house to the garden, goes to the wooden lavatory, opens the door.

Tetyana

— Dima ?!

Veles

— Tanya... why the hell are you here?

Tetyana

— And you what?! You went to the punishers ... That's my grandmother’s hut, and our house in the town was shelled from Grad, well, not our apartment, but it became dangerous.

Veles

— Is Ponchyk in the house?

Tetyana

— No more Ponchyk.

Veles

— Killed?! ..

Tetyana

— Pip your tongue, I kicked him. Fights somewhere with such as you. He is now Chervonets, not Ponchyk . My little son is sleeping in the hut. Let me go, where I went, I’ll cope with you.

Veles

— Go. I'll be in the hut.

Scene 4

Teseus is near the newsfeed

— “Cauldron appeared after the direct invasion of the Russian army. It looks like it came, as artillery bombardment in June at the border, a surprise for Ukrainian generals. The timely order for retreat didn’t come. Therefore the Ukrainian soldiers, as if by the consent of Russia’s president Volodymyr Putin, were promised to be given an open corridor and let go out, saving their lives. Russians gave “the word of a Russian officer”, that they wouldn’t shoot. But when the Ukrainian soldiers approached the “Putin’s corridor”, they started shelling from all types of weapons. The Ukrainian military men and volunteers had to break through in small groups by storm and with heavy casualties.

— I know all of it already, I know…What about these groups?...Oho…

"The local citizens have been ordered by the militia to deliver up the punishers under the threat of military tribunal"…

Scene 5

The basement of Tetyana’s house. The entire group has assembled. Tetyana opens up some very old canning jars, dismisses something, treats the fighters with something.

Tetyana

— And there’s nothing to give you for a trip. Neighbours will go for food to the town only tomorrow.

Slon

— Such is the fate. I cannot meet classmates by any means and Velez — as if on purpose.

Tetyana

— So he is Veles ... beautiful. Dmitry, why Veles?

Veles

— There was such God. He sang songs to all who fight, to get fraternized. I'll soon sing myself... Strelka, hey Strelka, look, what’s wrong with my foot.

Strilka comes, raises trousers to the knee, opens the wound.

Strilka

— Do you have some medications? It is festered, so much...

Tetyana comes, looks too.

Veles

— Tanya, get away, you make me shy — I am naked

Tetyana

— You're a fool, Dima, as you always were, how I hate you!

Veles

— You love me, Tanya, but got married to Chervonets.

Tetyana

— Leave him here, guys, leave this wounded idiot on my hands, it could really be destiny.

Poet

— It's actually very dangerous, I think we are being searched, maybe with dogs ... Both you and your son could get into trouble.

Slon

— Well, where do they get the dogs — who knew that we could get away? A large basement is here, he’ll recover a bit, we have connection, when we get out, we’ll send for him.

Laurel

— Veles, how are you? Do you agree? ..

Veles

— There’s no escape from fate.

Poet

— Well, then let’s go quickly until neighbours are still asleep. For who knows who they are…

Tetyana

— That's right, now no son responsible for father, neither sister responsible for brother, nor for their neighbours. Wait, here's some water, food, and for you, girl, I’ve found a gown, — not much clothes here, — We’ ve got what on us, in fact.

Strilka

— Oh, no, don’t do it, what for…

Tetyana

You’ll change your clothes and look like a local girl

Scene 6

Field of sunflowers. All sit squatting. Explosions.

Slon

— Vasylek (cornflower)...

Laurel

— Cornflower ...

Strilka

— My favorite flowers. As a child I gathered them in colza.

Poet

— I do not know what you are talking about, but they shoot us from “Hyacinth”.

Laurel

— Also beautiful. As a child I smoked sunflowers.

Slon

— Oh, what about the details?

Laurel

— Poet, give me one piece of paper from your pocket notebook.

Poet

— Wait, I’ve got inspiration and the poem appeared.

Laurel

— Then give me a piece of paper and read.

Laurel finds dry leaves of sunflowers, grinds, Slon monitors this celebration, then, after rolling cigarettes, both smoke with great pleasure.

Slon

— So that’s what happiness is!

Laurel

— Yes, well, I imagined it in different way ...

Poet

— Well, listen then ...

He who came out of hell, holding gun in his hands.

Goes through sunflowers, millions of them around,

And between them calmly, and then where — no one knows,

For the lakes are red and the sun is black near Krasnosel'ske.

Heads of sunflowers bowed to fate now

Under the weight of thoughts in solid black shell.

Too long, fatally long they’ve been obedient to the sun,

Turned only to him, obeyed destiny.

You're right, enemies turned out to be everywhere,

Those that’re just inside, break into pieces your chest,

Those who hear whether one will complain,

Hold radars on the horizon.

Strilka

— Great… Scary … And what’s then?

Poet

— And nothing more .

Strilka

— Will there be anything else?

Poet

— There won’t be

Scene 7

Chervonets and Martynov before the sunflower field with binoculars, fully armed — machineguns, grenade launchers.

Martynov

— Two have touched off the stretch — managed to go 30 kilometres. Another one stole a motorcycle from a local, but was shot at the checkpoint, hasn’t got anywhere. But they escape, they escape...

Chervonets

— Maybe to hell with them? After this, they will not fight any more.

Martynov

— The ones who have been mobilized, will not go. But volunteers are reckless, those Right Sector fighters will climb without arms and legs, they must be burned. Oh, and isn’t there a smoke in the field?..

Chervonets

— I don’t see.

Martynov

— But I see. Look, there. Shoots. Shoots again. Lets burst of machinegun fire.

Chervonets

— No, there is nothing.

Martynov (looks attentively)

— Maybe not. Not anymore. Come on, let's see.

Chervonets (looking at the opposite side of the field)

— And there, can you see there, the stems move? Maybe, a dog?

Martynov (begins to shoot the direction shown by Chervonets)

— Fascist dog, do not take it alive.

Chervonets

— Yes, where are the fascist dogs? Every dog is local. My Akbar fled when Grad shells hit the neighbour’s house, and is still missing.

Martynov

— What breed?

Chervonets

— German Shepherd.

Martynov

— Well, fascist. I do not like dogs. Come check there, where the smoke fled.

Chervonets

— Would you like some hooch?

Martynov

— Pour, brake. He asks. Bloody interviewer!

Chervonets pulls out a jar, turns off the lid, pours.

Martynov

— For Mother Russia! For its prodigal sons!

Scene 8

In the field of sunflowers Slon, Laurel and Strilka are lying, not moving. Next to them is Poet, he has been killed. Strilka is seeking his pulse on his neck, shows with gestures that there is no pulse.

Slon with gestures also says that by his command everyone should crawl to the edge of the field as soon as possible and hide in the bushes, he would go last, covering.

Laurel gets a notebook with poems from Poet’s ankle boot, hiding it in his breast pocket, showing others that he has done it, they nod. Laurel and Strilka are crawling on their stomachs, Slon behind them.

Scene 9

Martynov and Chervonets are going across the field, pushing aside the stems and talking.

Martynov

— Take to the left.

Chervonets

— Yes, we have already passed this place.

Martynov

— We have not.

Stops near the body of killed Poet.

Martynov

— Here is our banderovets. He won’t see his Carpathian mountains and bandits’ hiding places any more.

Searches the body, gets documents. Opens passport.

Martynov

— Strange ...

Chervonets

— What’s there?

Martynov

— Homonym…

Chervonets

— Whose?

Martynov

— Mine…

Examines a piece of paper, enclosed to passport. Gives it to Chervonets.

Martynov

— Read!

Chervonets

— Why… There’s a kind of poem…

Martynov

— Well, you studied Ukrainian, read then.

Chervonets (reads slowly, sometimes stumbling on words, but on the whole quite dramatically)

— Bullets planted abundantly ploughed the land

Whether they passed through the body, or just omitted

So metallic, the choice of weapons’ seeds

Apparently, bloody they germinate faster

Deeply stuck grains won’t be destroyed by frost

slender wire will sprout from them in spring

And buds will swell with sharp colours

Next the dust will pollinate strange field

And get ovary machine guns and grenades

Only with weeding they must be very careful

Too sensitive is this land and that’s why fertile

Best bouquet cannot be invented for the beloved,

But it’s hard to cut iron stems

It will be a brilliant harvest,

Filled exactly with this calibre bullets

Simply collect these seeds and loudly crack them...

And in the fall they’ll blight during rains,

As no one comes to collect them

Chervonets

— Well, enough, Martynov.

Martynov? Let’s bury him.

Martynov

— Come on, let’s bring him out of here, and then

There are people to deal with funeral.

They’ll call relatives, they will pay what’s necessary,

To the budget of the republic. Well, or he’ll be thrown into a pit.

And what is the verse about?

I just realized that it’s about the land.

Chervonets

— Well, with bullets to plough, to pour with blood, and it’ll grow…

Martynov

— Potatoes?

Chervonets

— The war will grow, what else. People will shoot each other and there will be no one left.

Martynov

— Have you seen people here lately? There are not any.

Chervonets did not accept the joke, looking at Martynov with surprise.

Martynov

— Scared?! Yes, I'm kidding, just kidding. See, again they’ll say, that Martynov killed the poet. I’ll get into history. Why I'm here — to create the history. For Russian state could restore its former power. But you're here for money, Chervonets, you trembling creature. And I have to give my life for Russia. But first, I’ll take away the lives of others as many as possible. Splash me your magic drink. Not to toast in vain.

Scene 10

Teseus in front of the computer

— Poems in the newsfeed. There’s something in them …

Reading slowly.

This night I’m sitting on the windowsill,

Eyes are blinded by blood-red lights,

It is on you the blood of shot battalions

TV Tower of Syrets, my Tower of Babel...

Strange avatar. The Ukrainian girl

She does not sleep — writes about Ilovaysk.

It looks like she has someone, who’s going out.

— Well, girl, now you have wishful thinking...

I take you out from this death trap

In light path of the Moon in the river

In the words of clairvoyant,

The dotted line on the map,

Asterisk from the sky.

You cannot get lost here anymore You must not.

She asks who has accurate maps and information, which settlements are under control of the Ukrainian army... Well, let's suppose I have it all, I know how to search... I’m able to obtain information ... But do I have the right to influence the natural selection? War — it is a cataclysm, it will still take its harvest ... What am I doing?.. I am ready to try. Is there any connection with someone who goes out? Give me his cell-phone number and tell to accurately follow the instructions ... No connection? .. Disappears? .. Hasn’t called for 5 hours? .. Where was he the last time? Well, a field of sunflowers is not a landmark, there are fields everywhere. After the pumpkins field? .. Already looking ... we will try together.

Scene 11

Strilka, Laurel and Slon are near a stream in the forest plantation. They are drinking for a long time, they cannot drink enough.

Laurel

— I would drink, drink and drink. And then sleep. And then drink and drink and drink.

Strilka

— I would live here in the woods. On a tree. I’d gather nuts Poet called me a little squirrel, he would ask whether tassels grew in my ears ... (eyes filled with tears, gulps down sobs).

Laurel

— You shouldn’t cry, Poet is already there and met all, with Samol’ot, Schultz, Vosmy, Bani, Red… We are just here ... It is not known where.

Strilka (to Slon)

— Hug me. I am very scared.

Elephant (ignores the request)

— Communication appeared at night, I called the commanders. No effect. They don’t answer. The commander of battalion was unwilling to talk. Who knows what is going on. Only Actor answered. He said that they were thirty with “300th”, asked me to send aid quickly. So I should go faster.

Strilka

— We’ll all go together

Slon

— By myself I'll go out faster, find the car, and our pick ours and you up. If communication appears, I’ll call you immediately.

Laurel

— You lie.

Slon

— In your dream you cried so loud it could be heard beyond the forest. I wanted to strangle you. I’d rather go away. Well, I came here to fight, not to nurse. It is war, you are two, there are thirty, the soldier chooses where he is more necessary.

Slon rises, takes his weapon, Strilka bewildered looks at him.

Strilka

— Well, and I? You wanted to marry me ...

Slon

— What a husband of me? I’m married to war, I’m seeking it all over the world ..

Silently walks quickly.

Strilka

— Why is he?

Laurel

— Wants to live .

Strilka

— I want too .

Laurel (clicks on the phone the call, listens a definitely disappointing answer, hides the apparatus)

— That’s it

Scene 12

Tetyana and Veles in the basement, on a bed of a mattress and a blanket.

Tetyana

— I want a beautiful white dress with a train on our wedding. When we married with Ponchyk, I had to wear the school-leaving party dress — He became Chervonets in militia to please everyone ... except me ...

Veles

— What a husband of me? Where will I take you away? I would better leave myself now...

Tetyana

— Stay here. I’ll feed you somehow.

Veles

— No, it's not life to hide in the basement. The leg will heal and I’ll go.

Hatch of the cellar opens, machine-gun shooting.

Chervonets

— Go out one by one .

Tetyana

— Found, bitch ?!

Chervonets

— You are the bitch, got a boy-friend when the son is around. Go away, I will kill you.

Veles takes his dress on, Tetyana too. They leave the basement without watching each other.

Chervonets

— Dimka?!

Veles

— Kill me, Ponchyk (Donuts), don’t be shy

Chervonets

— Take your hands behind head

Veles

— And why not to talk?

Chervonets

— I have nothing to tell you. I know everything. They are no formers cops. You went to fight for America, to extract shale gas here, to poison ground here. And at school graduating party you had a speech how much you loved your native city, and you told you could give your life for it. What the hell did you leave here, fascist?! Now you are to remember that it is not your city and Tetyana is not your wife, and then I will cut your balls out and live you alive.

Тetiana

— Did you come alone? Leave Dimka, let him go away, otherwise you will never see me, nor our son.

Chervonets

— No, I am not the only one here.

Martynov

— I listen here your performance, Shakespeare is taking silence now. Do it, Otello, capture the punisher, let him reconstruct the city, and take your wife and tamp her on the street. She has to know how it is to make love with the punishers. As for cutting balls, it was lovely, I am ready to observe the process by myself.

Veles

— Decide equally, who which is to cut.

Martynov

— Usually we start by a tongue... He beats Veles with machine gun and pushes him out.

Scene 13

Theseus is near the computer

Theseus (speaks by phone with Laurel)

— You can sleep at a refuse heap, on a crushed stone. Two kilometers from you to the west. Then — strictly west side. And do not step on the road. There are armored vehicles on the road, and relocation. Switch off, you can return on line in the morning, you will get SMS with further information. Yes, I will tell Nastya.

He tapes the handset from the ear and makes another call.

— Yes, the table has been booked. Mojito, lobster, and we will remember Goa and say goodbye to the summer. I kiss you, I am busy at the moment, wait for a carriage.

— Nastya, is it you? Yes, I just called him, I was talking to him, I asked him to switch off the phone, he sends you his regards. Everything is ok. There are 2 of them, may be. They were 5? I don’t know, he did not tell me. He has cheerful voice. Oh yes, he also said: “We have weapons should something be wrong, we will take the battle”. Nastya, you know, you have very good poems, may be, you will send me something via messenger? For a connoisseur…

He puts the handset, opens the page in internet and starts to read slowly

— He carried his sub machine gun without a belt,

Clutching it to his chest,

As if it were a first-born.

He breathed in its smell

Of molten metal and a week-long battle.

He went with no way,

Just not to captivity or to heaven.

He ate dry sunflowers' seeds, stuffed his mouth,

He could not swallow them

As he drank only once from a puddle.

And so three days

To go hiding,

Spend nights on waste hill tops,

Make his way

Between the lines of a poem,

Looking for rhymes,

And they are not there.

And he rescued his weapon

And gave it to a newcomer,

The one whose eyes are still bright

For he had not yet seen

How the fire engine burnt

In which his brothers-in-arms from the reconnaissance

battalion of "Donbas"

Were leaving Ilovaysk along the green — red — black corridor.

Details later,

When the last one comes out,

And he is still going...

All the awards had been handed out,

And he is still going.

Those who came out had a good sleep in their homes,

And he is still going.

The wounded who waited for too long have their arms and legs

Cut off,

And he is still going.

Victory proclaimed, and truce ignored,

And he is still going.

They're burying dead in the alleys of heroes,

And he is still going.

The battalion commander has new grandiose plans

With no account for the one who's still going,

And he is still going.

And again, I wait until morning.

Deals the phone.

— Nastya, thank you, it empowers very much, I mean what you write. Excuse me, could you tell me more about Laurel? I think, he is just a common, simple guy. For how long do you know each other? Yes, I will wait for a phone call.

Scene 14

Strilka and Laurel are on the heap. They lie there and watch the stars at the sky.

Strilka

— Tell me about your Nastya. Ae you long with her?

Laurel

— I don’t want.

Strilka

— Why? Probably, it is the last night in our life, it is better to tell about everything

Laurel

— And if not the last? What after it?

Strilka

— Why do not you hug me?

Laurel

— Because.

Strilka

— What does your Nastya have which I do not?

Laurel

— You have everything. But Nastya is just mine as I am hers. I did feel it when saw her for the first time. And stop here, let’s sleep. I will hug you as my military comrade, because I am daze, too.

Both are silent, both are preparing to sleep.

Strilka

— Are you sleeping?

Laurel

— No. By the way, you wanted to talk, so start, the tales make me sleep better.

Strilka

— OK. There was a girl, living in a town of Korosten. It is where the Princess Olga once let sparrows take small firing branches and to burn the town. She revenged the death of her husband. I suddenly remember about it, analyzing all my life. I went to war, following my or not my boyfriend, I did not understand it. I thought this war would make it clear, but it killed him. I mourned and continued to fight together with his comrades, but not a long, just about one week.

Laurel

— Are you talking about Dovbush?

Strilka

— Did someone notice? I told nobody, he too…

Laurel

— We are reconnaissance. Everybody knew. You, girls, you are so predictable.

Strilka

— Up to you. So, the girl graduated from school and then she studied philosophy at the university, because she liked a lot to discuss with the boys the meaning of live — like to become popular, to benefit and to glorify the country. I mean, to discuss not only with the boys, but it is more interesting with them…

Laurel

— So, what is the meaning of life?

Strilka

— I do not know now, really. Let us sleep.

Laurel

— We stood on Maidan for our country, for our land, for justice. And separatists say the same when we question them. So it looks like their land is our land. Or the land belongs to no one, it accepts us like plants, insects, birds, animals …

He shuts up and sleeps.

Strilka

— It is a drone. It is the drone above us. We are seen. The artillery will strike us now.

She shakes Laurel, he does not react and continues to sleep..

Scene 15

Central street. It is Veles, beaten to blood, tied to a column, with a plate “Chastener, who killed our children” on his neck. Tetyana stays near him.

Tetyana

— I will go to Russia, I will start a new life, I will forget all of you. Did we live bad? What did you want? All cops work and make affairs, your former partners are bosses now, but not you, you wanted to be clean and white. Why are you silent, did they cut your tongue?

She asks the question and becomes afraid, watching Veles.

Veles (spit blood from his mouth)

— Why are you so angry? Spit on me, beat me here, on my leg, you know where it hurts. Anyway, the whole class was here, like in Mausoleum, to look on a known person.

Tetyana

— Did they beat you?

Veles

— Just Shvabra (Mop), I took him under arrest for 15 days about 5 years ago, when he put a bruise to Natashka, being drunk. By the way, Natashka brought me water and fed with a cake, not like you.

Chervonets comes

— Romeo and Juliette of the Donetsk Province, fuck you. She will go far away right now, and you are to be questioned, long time on fresh air, and free massage. You will tell on camera how you returned home with American gun, how you killed and looted and how sorry you are to local people …

He untied Veles and moved him at gunpoint.

Scene 16

Theseus answers the long phone call

— Nastya? No, I am not at home. No, no more communication. Yes, to Volnovakha. Just at the morning. Not everything which written is true. I will try to get by my own sources. If it is true, they have no way to go. No, nights are warm now. A man should stay about two weeks without food. As for water … Nastya, things are not so bad, trust me, there are several groups going out from there, volunteers observe their move and the pro Ukrainian local folks are to take them by cars. Nastya, stop, please. Try to sleep. Nothing depends on you at present. All right, it depends … Excuse me, second line.

… Yes, ask for a bill, I am coming soon.

… Nastya, it is his way, try to understand it, he went to this war as a volunteer and he has to move till the end. It is like in a game, he is moving and I correct his road and he has lives in stock. Do you understand me? No, no thanks, for now…

Scene 17

Elephant (Slon) jumps into a trench and meets Martynov with the gun.

Slon

— Fuck, I have to take this loony with myself.

Martynov

— Kill me here.

Slon

— As they say in my native Odessa, no bargaining here. And what I see is not a young recruit, but a serious Russian Capt. or Major. Probably he has something interesting and new in his memory. Let us go, go, it is not far from here. It is a headquarters in Volnovakha, so I will pass you to people there, I’ll take a car and take my guys. Because they think, I am fucking gay. By the way, why did you come so far from your positions? OK, keep silent, you will tell everything later.

He takes Martynov out the trench and they move.

Martynov

— It is my Grandfathers golden watch, real commander’s watch; I took it with me for good luck. Take it and kill me. Well, kill, and then take it. Anyway, the watch will be the gift.

Slon

— You are talking strange things. What is your point? I do not see it.

Martynov

— I will be disjoint for organs in captivity. Your doctors rehabilitate your wounded by the pieces of ours. The blood is the same, the Russian blood. You have to understand me, it is better to die…

Slon

— By the way, I am an American Jew from Odessa, I am real Ortodox Zhydobanderovets and I owed nothing to you. And the brain transplantation would be useful for you, oh yes. Let us thing a marching song, it makes the road fun.

He starts to sing. He twists the gun on Martynov’s back as a conductor. Martynov at first helps to remember words and corrects inaccuracies and then starts to sign, and the both sing together like a choir.

One of our planes was missing

Two hours overdue,

One of our planes was missing

With all it's gallant crew,

The radio sets were humming,

They waited for a word,

Then a voice broke through the humming

And this is what they heard:

«Comin' in on a wing and a prayer,

Comin' in on a wing and a prayer,

Though there's one motor gone

We can still carry on,

Comin' in on a wing and a prayer.

What a show! What a fight!

Yes, we really hit our target for tonight!

How we sing as we limp through the air, Look below, there's our field over there,

With our full crew aboard

And our trust in the Lord

We're comin' in on a wing and a prayer».

There are shoots around, both men fall, both in blood, wounded in legs.

Martynov

— Are you alive?

Slon (after a pause, examine himself)

— You can’t wait!

Scene 18

Laurel and Strilka. Morning. The heap. Laurel tries to call Tessay and Natya. No answer. He calls his commanders, the same situation.

Strilka

— I want to drink very much. I cannot wait longer..

Laurel

— We can drink urine. Take a thermos and pour. Or I will do it, it is easier for me.

Strilka

— Do not joke, please.

Laurel

— No jokes here. Cosmonauts drink. I wanted to be a cosmonaut as a child and tried to drink my urine. Nothing terrible.

Strilka

— I wanted to be a model. I walked in our apartment in a very short bathrobe and Mom’s shoes. Stop, wait a second!

She takes a gown from the pocket on trousers, given by Tetyana. She takes her dress off till underwear and wears the gown, moving close to Laurel.

Laurel

— No shoes, pity. You can’t do it barefoot on gravel.

Strilka

— Give me a flask, I will go to a well to het water.

Laurel

— If you see a truck, lie but go to our guys to Volnovakha, and I will go alone.

Strilka

— It is not a time to pick up girls. The cars / trucks are running very fast on the road and just once in three hours.

Laurel

— I will watch you with binoculars. How a model is to name situation when she has to go from a heap to road?

Strilka

— It is defile. The latest trend of the season “Summer2014”. The latest scream…

She turns and goes away.

Scene 19

Laurel is watching where Strilka is with his binoculars.

Theseus is calling.

— Hello to you, too, how are you? … Why are you asking just about me? I am alone here, Strilka went to get water.

(takes a closer look)

— Vow, she is getting into a car, may be, someone is to take her up. I asked her to move on to Volnovakha as you said. And what direction have I to go from here? Yes… All right, I will leave on sunrise. So, it is seven-eight. I can, get it. It’s a lake in the village, with crayfish there, I was diving for them. You say there is no other way, is it? Good. It is always difficult for me to make a choice. How is Nastya? Good, if she is OK. I see… Have you ever seen her? All right, goodbye than, I will go and sink in a deep river. Vow, it is a song about the deep river. Everybody knows it. And where did you come from, so strange?

Theseus with a telephone in his hand

— Strange guy... He has to survive, to get out of trouble, death is around him, and he is jealous. It is curious. But indeed it is time I should meet such incredible girl. A girl with an exquisite nature — that is something unusual in our time. She became confused when I asked her about what they have in common. She did not answer. But there is something more than “I like strong nice military men”… Probably it is a plot about a romantic educated lady and a man, whose ancient Kozak blood woke up. He is like those, whom my Grandfather named — “he kisses a sabre before a woman”.

Scene 20

Strilka is on the road, the “gazik” car approaches, the girl wants to skip it and stops. The car stops, too.

Chervonets

— Where are you going, beauty?

Strilka

— I try to find water.

Chervonets

— Let me drive you.

Strilka

— I will go by myself, it is not far from here.

Chervonets

— It is interesting where? And whose shoes are on your legs?

Strilka

— My husband’s.

Chervonets

— Is your husband a Lilliput (small)?

Strilka

— Why do you think so?

Chervonets

— Just because your high boots are of 35 size. Get into the car, bitch of Ukrops. Now you will demonstrate how’d you give to the punishers.

Scene 21

Laurel is on the river bank. He takes his shoes off, ties the high boots to his gun machine, planning to swim with them. He takes the mobile phone.

— Nastya? How are you? You know, I saw you last night in my dream — first time after very long. I wanted to see you before, but nothing happened. But at last you came. In that raincoat which covered us from rain. Probably because I was alone and it was cold. No, let them fix, I don’t care, I want to talk, I miss you so much. Very, very, very much. Once Portos told me that you are too beautiful to become mine. And now you are mine, but he never will know about it. Are you mine? Don’t keep silent. You are my native, my lovely, my sweet girl. I ate brier on my way here, it is sweet, but cuts tongue and now it is painful to talk. I don’t know what else to tell you, but promise me that you will happy whatever happens. Do you promise? I will always be with you, I will never lie to you, I will never betray you, I will never leave you …

Laurel stops and watches his phone. The line is disconnected, but he continues to speak. Then he dials the number again.

Laurel

— A subscriber is out of reach.

Laurel tries to find a package to put the mobile phone inside, bur fails. He puts the phone into his high boots, puts the flag there, and enters the river, taking the gun and the shoes on high level. Slowly moves into deeper place. Stops and starts to sing, softly at first and then aloud.

Laurel (singing the anthem of Ukraine)

— Glorious spirit of Ukraine shines and lives forever. Blessed by Fortune brotherhood will stand up together. Like the dew before the sun enemies will fade, We will further rule and prosper in our promised land. We will lay our soul and body for the cherished freedom. Cossack blood will raise the nation of the joyous people… Laurel breathes deeply, starts to swim, pushing his things, a sudden explosion makes a strong wave and closes Laurel by head.

Scene 22

Theseus

— Nastya, good afternoon. Yes, no connection, I dial him from time to time. I call on another occasion — I propose to meet. Yes, today — no sense tomorrow. Oh no, stop it, I did not mean it at all. I tell you he is alive, everything is ok with him. He will be online very soon. It is our territory on that bank of the river, there are our troops, everything is ok, he is exited… That’s because — everything will come to an end soon. Or it finishes any way if he does not exit. I will not, I understand.

Scene 23

Laurel lies on the river bank, outed there by explosive wave. There are his things close to him. He starts to talk softly like in delirium, but then aloud and definitely.

— Brothers, where are you? Bani, Akhim, Eighth? I will be with you here, you know. Samolet (Airplane), give me your hand, I will stand up and hug you. How to be born again here? I will wait in line. I would like Nastya to bear me, new and clean. She is the only one to do it. He lies quietly, may be crying. Suddenly a phone calls from his things. Laurel stands up slowly, takes a look around and sits on the sand, but does not pick up the phone.

Scene 1

Theseus

I’ve played many games over the past year. I haven’t saved anyone else. And really, it was Nastya who saved them. My cards only played a very small part. Actually, there are no cards that show which houses and apartments have people in them who want to live in a European country, and which ones choose Russia. Although that’s not what this war is about. It’s about independence. I’ve been chasing that concept all my life, as if it was some kind of mythical bird. I don’t do drugs, I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, I never wanted to get addicted. I never borrowed money from my parents when I was a teenager, I didn’t marry the first girl I fell in love with (even though she had an apartment and I did-n’t…). But that was all before The Cauldron. I wasn’t there, but it really got to me. Changed everything inside. I split up with my fiancé. She was totally uninterested in the war. But that not why we split. One evening we were sitting on a terrace and a drunk soldier came up to us. He asked me why I wasn’t at the front. I started answering him but she started hollering for the waiter. She demanded that security remove the soldier, looking down on him as if he was inferior, human garbage. I’m still so embarrassed. I keep looking for him, so that I can apologize. The war? Me taking part? Fighting? It’s not my thing. I think wars should be fought by professional soldiers. Everyone else should join when the enemy is at the gates. But I’ve set up my own war tax. I give half of my salary to volunteers who are directly assisting the war effort. One night I stayed up past midnight arguing with a friend, should I go fight or should I leave it to the professionals. Should volunteers be fighting? Nobody has been held accountable for Ilovais’k, nobody has been punished, hundreds are still missing, those who have remained forever in those sunflower fields, in the forests, in village basements… The next morning I went to sign up. They told me that so far they didn’t need guys like me, who had no experience and always avoided the army. But they would keep me in mind if they needed me. Well, they’re still thinking about it. Those who have been to the front have something I don’t have. I’m still looking for that in myself. Or maybe it’s more simple? Am I just a coward? A couch potato warrior, who fearlessly destroys enemies with one keyboard stroke, so that they stop annoying me in social networks? A coward…

Tetyana

I took the first bus to Russia. Grabbed the kid and went. My former husband disgusted me. Can’t believe he became friends with that Russian riff-raff. I hated Dimka. He could have told me that he loved me back in grade ten, not in a basement twenty years later. And I hated myself. Because I couldn’t understand why this was all happening to me. Because we all wanted a tougher government and higher salaries? We’re living in a dormitory in the Kursk oblast. The roof leaks and the walls are covered in mould. I don’t let my son go alone anywhere. There are tons of drunks around. And nobody likes us refugees. I’ve become friends with a neighbour. She’s armenian and she's a refugee. There’s a war going on where she comes from too. She’s been here for a quarter of a century, but is still an outsider, and everything is foreign for her. It’s the same for us. At school everything’s different. The kid’s already done the physics and math that they’re just teaching them here. He spends all day on-line, chatting with his friends who were displaced to Kyiv, to Dnipropetrovs’k. No one else came to Russia. But how can a wife of a separatist go to Ukraine? How could I convince anyone that I’m his ex-wife? I can’t find a job here. So I take Belarussian underwear and sell it at the local market. Panties, socks, bras…

Chervonets

They sent me to a sanatorium in Russia because I brought in the wounded Veles. That was Dimka’s nom du guerre. Turns out he was a scout for the ‘enforcers’. They were well fed and had lots to drink. Thanks goodness I’m alive and in one piece. Others have lost arms and legs. One guy was telling me that the ‘enforcers,’ tortured him, chopped off his fingers. I thought about it and decided there was no point in going back. I won’t be able to find a job, might lose my head. Went to a village in Kursk oblast’, to try and make up with Tetyana, to see my son. They’re living in a filthy room. The old Tetyana would never live like that, now it’s as if she doesn’t see anything around her. We talked about nothing. She told me to come back when I’m sober then we’d talk about the divorce, about the kid. Well, I did have a few drinks before going to see her, why ever not? I left and saw the train station. A train had just arrived from Donetsk. It takes two days. Hung out with my countrymates, and when I finally sobered up, realized I was with a bunch of Cossacks from Taman. They’re heading to the Donbass as volunteers, to liberate it from the fascists. Everybody knows that the ‘enforcers’ are rapists, that they crucify children, they pull out Russian birch trees with their roots… I don’t argue with them. I really don’t want to argue with them. I’ll just have another drink. When I’m drunk all I think about is where is my place in the world? Where can I live? And realize that I destroyed it.

Martynov

They brought us out together. We were both wounded. Both shot in the leg. Although mine wasn’t as bad as the American’s. My bones were intact. Being on native land helps! At first they put us in the same hospital room. Then I got transferred to an SBU cell (Ukraine’s Secret Service). The Chekists [reference to Bolshevik era secret police] interrogated me. They wanted to know who I was, where I was from, why I had come. They even suggested that I record a video appeal they could broadcast to tell other Russians not to come to Ukraine. I refused. Although, to be honest, there’s not much point in our coming here. These alcoholic miners aren’t fighters. They don’t have the real Russian military spirit, the imperial vision. They put me on trial. Charged me with terrorism and sentenced to 10 years in prison. Russia demanded that I be sent back, but Ukraine refused. My unit back home quietly dismissed me, I had come as a volunteer. They found my mother, and asked her to publicly admit that I’m a Russian officer. But my mother, being a daughter of an officer, refused. Don’t know what they paid her, but I paid with my blood, sweat, and … A Russian Consul visited me in the hospital. He brought me some juice, and shaving toiletries. When he left, I asked them to throw everything out. There could be poison in anything. And right now my homeland sees me as a downed pilot, a liability. If I think about it, as an officer I should really shoot myself. But somehow I can’t. Something’s holding me back. Well, I have time to think about it. By the way, the prison library is full of Russian language books. I’ll have enough reading material to last me till I get out. Maybe these banderite-fascists are not what they appear… But I really did see an American. He’s definitely from the States, because we’d say ‘bliad’ but he kept saying ‘fuck.’ Although…

Strilka

They raped me for a long time. I don’t know how long. One hour. Two hours. They kept asking me where I was from, who I’d been with. I tried to tell them something. I swore that I was a local, from Kramatorsk. That all I did was make food for the Ukrainians, the soldiers, not the volunteers. They hate the volunteers. They really hate them. That I went through the green corridor with the column but then I got scared and spent two days hiding in the bushes. Then I started trying to find my way home. I think they believed me. They dumped me on the side of the road, like a piece of garbage. A local woman found me and helped me, using some sort of herbs. I couldn’t sleep. Then the Red Cross came to the village. And the woman somehow discretely managed to get them to take me. They brought me to Kyiv. Took me to a hospital. They kept talking to me, but I just kept crying. All I could see was the column being executed. I’m in the car and Dzyga’s head lands on the windshield. He was small, only nineteen years old. He used to come and ask me for vitamins, he liked the sweet ones… A doctor takes my hand, and says, ‘tell me more.’ That reminds me of when I was trying to find The Poet’s pulse. Dovbush’s mother came, and said I’d now be her daughter. The doctor keeps telling me that I’m young, everything will pass, and it’ll just remain in your dreams. And suggests that I might want to become a psychologist. Because philosophy is too ephemeral. And after the war there will be a need for psychologists to deal with all the Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I have the full range of its symptoms. Nightmares. It’s like can’t make it out of that military encirclement. Sometimes I feel like I see the enemy everywhere… I went to buy some chocolates and scared a poor saleswoman. Suddenly I just dropped to the floor and tried to hide behind the counter… One day I was wearing a cute green dress… And I bumped into some of the guys… We went for a drink and I started to cry… But they’re not the same anymore. They used to say, ‘we’re not here for the money.’ And now all they talk about is who owes them, what sort of perks they should be getting, where they can get a piece of land, some cheap loans… They’re not all like that. Or maybe they’re right, that they should be demanding what the state owes them. Maybe I’m too young to understand…

Slon

The jerk who shot me in the legs later visited me in the hospital. Every day. He brought me food, and tried to take care of me. So I forgave him for shooting me, and called him ‘brother.’ As soon as they released me from the hospital I went back to the States. But I was a cripple. The doctors back home took a look at me, broke my legs again, and put in some kind of prosthetics, some kind of artificial bones or something. I can’t run, but I’m no longer limping. I got married. It just happened out of the blue. She’s one of us. She’s a psychiatrist working on the Vietnam syndrome. It’s become the Africa syndrome. And now it’s the Donbass syndrome. I’m material for her dissertation since I’m more than happy to talk about it. None of her other patients have flashbacks as good as mine. Imagine this dream. We’re in a trench, under attack. Lavr, the Poet, and Martynov are with me. We’re all wounded. I can only try and save one of them, so I grab the Poet. I’m pulling and pulling, finally dragged him out, saved him. Then I look, and it’s not the Poet but Martynov. And he’s dead. My wife is racking her brains to try and figure out what the dream means. She came up with this theory that I miss that Russian guy, that we were meant to live through something together, and now we never will. God forbid! Whatever I still need to live through I’ll do with my fellow Americans, thank you very much. No more chipmunks will be trapped in swimming pools. Wonder what happened to them in the forest. I voted Republican for the first time this election. They at least tried to convince Congress to send military equipment to Ukraine. The Americans are such a bunch of cowards. If they only knew how Ukrainians used to look up to them. Until they realized…

Veles

I was held prisoner for a hundred days. Then the big prisoner exchange happened and ‘everyone’ was supposed to be released. I was. Until then they forced me to work repairing buildings that had been bombed. They treated us like slaves, slave labour. They gave us porridge once a day. When they made us work in the fields they put something in the food, some kind of mild sleeping pills that made us drowsy, so that we wouldn’t escape. It made me feel like a zombie. One day some guy just started pounding me. His son had been captured and killed. Finally someone dragged him off me. I ended up in hospital with my head practically smashed in. Now I can barely see out of my left eye, and can hardly hear out of my left ear. But I volunteered to fight again, this time with another battalion. They take guys like me even if we’re half blind and half deaf, because we know this war better than anyone. I have no other choice right now. Whatever I do, I’m drawn to the front. That’s where my home is, it’s controlled by the enemy. That’s where my fallen comrades are. Some never got a proper burial. Friends keep trying to set me up with women, they want me to get married. But I can’t. Maybe I just haven’t met my soul mate? I’m not going to get married just to get married. That would be dishonest. I’ve already spent too much time being dishonest with myself. I wanted to be a pilot but became a policeman. I loved Tanya but married Valentyna. I was honest with the state, and for my efforts ended up with no apartment. Oh well, any way you slice it, I’m alive. And that means I might still be useful for something. I want a son. ‘Samolot’ used to say that volunteers should collect and freeze their sperm before going to the front. That way, even if they get killed, their wives or sweethearts could still have their children. Or any women who wanted to have brave and handsome children. They’ll be needed once the war ends…

Laurel

I’m the only one who made it out in one piece. Or, actually, picked up by a guy driving by who took me to safety. He saw me on the river bank. I’d crawled out and was just laying there. Watching the clouds drift by. One of them looked like an airplane. And I remember thinking, ‘that’s Samolot sending me a message.’ This guy was driving past and saw me. He took one look at the insignia on my fatigues, and without saying a word, he picked me up. And drove me through all the checkpoints, explaining that I was a volunteer who’d made it out of the Ilovais’k Cauldron. I was in no shape to talk. This guy drove me all the way to Dnipropetrovs’k, to the military section where I was supposed to surrender my machine gun. I was just carrying it, it didn’t have a strap anymore. I asked them to pry my fingers away from it, they seemed to have fused with it. Taking off my uniform was equally hard. It was stiff with blood, from when I was lying next to the Poet. Even the river hadn’t washed away that blood. And then Nastya appeared. She looked to bright, so happy. I took her hand, pulled her towards me. Then I thought, wait, she’s so clean and here I am reeking of war, death, horror. Something’s wrong here. Or, maybe, it’s finally right? I wanted to find that guy who guided us out of the Cauldron, Theseus. I called to thank him, but he seemed a bit icy on the phone, so I didn’t push it. Strange guy… It’s like he felt for us, but maybe not… This past year seems like one long movie. Like a big hallucination. Some of our guys went into politics, ran for office in the election. We all stuck together. Demanded prisoner exchanges so that the rest of our guys would be released. Asked that the bodies of those killed would be found and given a proper burial. We kept saying, ‘One for all, and all for one.’ And for a while it was true. Then people started finding jobs, getting married, having children. Others began drinking... It’s so important that they didn’t die in vain. That we do transform our country. We have everything we need to make that happen. Everything… Yet fewer and fewer people are talking about this now. The establishment, the government, seems to have gone completely silent on this. All they do is hand out little medals and some money to families of those heroes. It’s like they’re paying them off for the betrayal at Ilovais’k, for the memory of the volunteers that they can’t seem to shake off. Me and Nastya… Nope, I won’t say anything. We’ll see what fate has in store for us. We’re not together. And we’re not apart. One day when a dark cloud was hanging over me I asked her why she saved me. Maybe I’d be better off with the guys who didn’t make it, Bani, Red, Samolot.. Maybe it should have been me not the Poet. I’d be turning flags right side up in the sky. So that the yellow remains above the blue… You know, things usually work out for me, but not in the way things happen for others. No matter how many people say that Nastya and I are just too different, I know that we come from the same place. I just need to sail solo for a bit longer. I know everything will turn out OK. That the war will end. And that someday, Nastya and I will have kids together. We’ll have three, two boys and a girl. The boys will have dark hair like their mother, and the little girl will be blonde. Or maybe, the other way around. Either way, it doesn’t matter. We’ll have a house by the river, I’ll build it myself, out of wood, with a real fireplace. I’ll sit and stare into the fire… Fire. Water. The meaning of life. What Strilka never understood…

The Poet

There’s a legend, or a story, that before World War II someone scribbled, “If I was a real poet, I’d know how to stop the war,” somewhere on a wall. The wall was in Italy. Or was it in Germany? If I was a real poet, and not just called that by my army buddies, I’d know the magic word that would make the killing stop. I’d be saying it over and over. Believe me. When I was still alive, that is. Although it seems that officially my life seems to be continuing. The enemy dumped whatever was left of my body into a common grave near Chervonosil’sk, along with the remains of my army buddies. Maybe someday, someone will come looking for the spot where my last remains ended up. But my parents refuse to give a DNA sample to check for my remains. They’re holding onto the news that I’m missing in action, and taking comfort in that. They keep telling themselves, ‘maybe he’s in Chechnya, a prisoner. Maybe he’s become a servant in a rich family. Being well fed, respected. He’d phone if he could… Or maybe he crossed the border, picked up the documents and took on the identity of some dead soldier… And as soon as the war is over he’ll come back’… My mother and father keep inventing stories for themselves. What can I do, the old folks need stories. If I was a real poet… but I don’t have the talent. I could never concoct a story like the one I lived through. Being surrounded on all sides. Betrayal. Hatred. This cauldron. So many different people thrown into it. None of us could have imagined it… . And can you believe it? The year after I was killed, my poetry was published! My friends made it happen. They published all the poems that I wrote while fighting. And after it appeared, some newspaper got a letter from a prison inmate, with one of my poems. A Russian officer sent it in. My killer saved my poem. In his letter to the newspaper he wrote, “This is the Poet’s last written piece of work. By chance, I happen to have it.” But it was by chance that he killed me. And that wasn’t my last poem. Just one that I happened to jot down. Here’s the last one.

The Poet begins to recite. The other fighters join in, and each one recites a few lines.

The Poet

War is a reflection of peace in a crooked mirror.

If you look at it for a long time, it's funny at first.

Veles

Then it's painful, and then, strange and scary,

Scary in a long and loud way, and scarier and scarier,

For the war won't vanish anywhere, ever.

Slon

And every shot from a cannon

Only brings more and more shards of the mirror,

Laurel

And these hundreds of thousands of small fragments

Hit the hearts of those who are in combat

And make them colder, though you don't seem to notice it.

Theseus

And the fighters remain alive

Composing the word “eternity” with shards of ice.

Strilka

And when they wake up at night in a frenzy

They look around: “Where are you, my soul sister?

Are you bringing me your lifesaving love?”