Johnny Got His Gun Page #4

proves that

it really is a dream.

Yes, yes.

I--

That doesn't work.

Even if the rat was real,

I couldn't knock it off

because I haven't

got any arms.

No arms.

I haven't got anything.

I'm just like a piece of meat

that keeps on living.

Since your real life--

is a greater nightmare

than your dreams,

it would be cruel

to pretend that anyone

could help you.

What you need is a miracle.

No, not a miracle.

Just tell me

that the rat is real.

And the way I am now

is a dream.

Perhaps it would be

better for you

to go away now.

You're a very

unlucky young man,

and sometimes

it rubs off.

I'll go, but first

tell me just one thing.

Are you and I

really here together?

Or is this

a dream, too?

It's a dream.

How do you know?

Because I'm a dream.

I don't believe you.

Nobody does.

That's why I'm as unreal

as every other dream

that didn't come true.

I don't know whether

I'm alive and dreaming

or dead and remembering.

Am I getting old?

Is my hair turning gray?

Will anybody ever

come to visit me?

I hope not.

I really wouldn't

want anybody

to see me like this.

I do get homesick, though.

Oh, but they wouldn't

have shipped me that long way home.

Not with all these

tubes and things in me.

No, I'm probably in

some frog hospital,

or maybe limey.

At least my teeth

don't ache.

Wait a minute.

What's this?

There are two

vibrations,

and one of them

is heavy.

It's a man.

Why are the shutters

closed?

They always have been.

At least, as long

as I've been here.

It's on the order sheet.

Well, it's crazy.

Well,

what are you doing?

Hello? Have I

got visitors?

What happened then?

As long as I'm

head nurse of this ward,

the shutters are open

and they will stay open.

Let him have

a little sunshine.

They said it was

to keep people

from peeking

in at him.

It would take a man

to peek through that window.

Oh, and another thing.

I want sheets

on this bed.

He's walking.

No more blankets.

He can't really

tell the difference, you know.

Now he's stopped.

I can.

Well.

How did the triage officer

ever overlook this one?

He's looking at me.

Poor baby.

No, it's a woman.

Those hands, a fat woman.

That's why I could feel

her footsteps so plain.

Poor-- Poor baby.

Come on.

That was funny.

What were they doing?

What has happened?

What's different?

Think, Joe.

Think. Use your head.

Feel.

Feel with your scalp

and the skin

on your forehead.

Something has changed.

It was cooler before

she came in than it is now.

What I feel is--

is warmth.

But where does it come from?

Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

Of course.

Oh, my God. I see it now.

It-- It's the sun.

The sun, the sun, the sun.

I found the sun.

Thank you, God.

Thank you. Thank you.

If I never have

anything else,

I'll always have God

and the morning sunlight.

It's night.

If a man can

tell the difference

between day and night,

he's beginning to tell time.

It's warm again.

It's morning,

and she's changing

my sheets.

Now it's night.

Morning again.

She's bathing me.

One morning she changes me,

the next morning,

she bathes me.

Night, night.

Day. Night.

How will I keep track?

I know.

Put a big blackboard up in your mind.

And right here

in the middle,

put a mark for each day.

Four, six, seven days.

Now, put a mark up

in this corner for the weeks.

Erase the days.

Start over again.

Three, four weeks.

That's right!

Erase the weeks

and mark down

a month over here.

5, 9, 11, 12 months.

Now that isn't a year,

not yet.

Four twelves is only 48.

Okay, check off

four more weeks,

very carefully.

And then put Roman

numeral number 1

right down here. One year!

I'm ringing bells!

Hey, I'm blowing horns

and shooting off

firecrackers.

Everybody's singing

"Should old acquaintance

be forgot."

And I'm saying--

I'm saying,

"Happy New Year, Kareen."

And I'm kissing her.

But it isn't

New Year's Day out there.

Sure, I've counted a year,

but a year from when?

I don't even know

how old I am.

All I know is

I'm 20 years old,

plus X years since

I got blown up,

plus the year I just counted.

But when did

those X years begin?

Think, Joe. Think back.

We were next to

an English regiment.

And we went out

on night patrol and scattered.

And then I hooked up

with that little

limey corporal

and his outfit, and--

Yes, I remember now.

I was writing a letter

to you, Kareen.

Corporal Timlon?

Yes, sir?

What is that damnable odor?

Out there, sir.

This fat Hun came

stumbling through the fog.

Some bloke lost his head

and popped him off.

The stink ain't half so bad

when they're close

to the ground, sir,

but he's got himself

hung up on the wire.

Bad for morale.

Extremely bad.

He's a Bavarian, sir.

They always smell worse.

Yes, they do,

don't they?

Not so bad as Hindu is,

though. Or Welshmen.

While it's nice and quiet,

sir, we keep on trying

to shoot him down,

but he hangs on pretty good.

Well, take a detail

out tonight, Corporal.

And bury him.

Well, but it's kind of

busy out there, sir. Even at night.

And don't forget,

Corporal.

Death has a dignity

all its own.

And you will say

a few words of prayer over the remains.

Yes.

Oh, Jesus!

Just for that,

I'll take volunteers.

You. You. You.

You two.

You in the back there.

And to almighty God,

we commend the soul of

our brother departed,

and we commit his body

to the ground.

Earth to earth,

ashes to ashes,

dust to dust.

Who's got the dust?

It's kinda wet, but--

I have--

Well, throw the bloody

stuff in. Go on.

Ashes to ashes.

Dust to dust.

God have mercy on his soul!

The bloody bastards

have shot me in the ass!

Take cover, men.

If it's prayers he wants,

he can make up his own.

Oh, Jesus.

I shouldn't have

been there at all.

Or that poor

Bavarian, either.

For all I know,

we might have been friends.

Instead of him dead,

out there in the mud.

And me, lying here like...

like some freak

in a carnival show.

Remember that time

in Los Angeles,

when we all went

to the circus,

and took Kareen

with us, too?

And when we got home, the old man began

imitating those

sideshow barkers?

And the rest of us

joined in, too?

He was a funny man!

Just think what he

could have done with me,

the way I am now.

I eat...through a tube!

He breathes through a tube.

And whatever goes in a tube

has to come out

through a tube.

He is the armless,

legless wonder

of the 20th century!

And yet, by God,

he's just as alive

as you and me!

He was a good boy.

He was always forgetting things!

And it's this

fellow right here!

But he don't worry

about no shoes.

'Cause he don't

need no shoes!

He'd forget his overshoes.

No shoes! No shirt!

No socks!

No gloves! No hat!

He would forget his cap.

No necktie!

No collar buttons!

No vest! No coat!

No nothing!

And now...

he's forgotten...

just everything.

All you gotta do

is drop a love offering

of 15 cents or more

in this little lady's thunder mug.

And I'll you

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