The Name of Two Million Faces

Scene 1

A sunny afternoon, 1972. The camp is overflowing with people. Every few minutes, a new group appears
from the woods— mothers carrying their crying children on their backs, fathers hauling what belongings they had
left. The clamor of the people drowns out the distant sound of bombs and fighter planes.
Patient 1: Help! Someone! / Anyone! Help, please!
Patient 2: Does anyone / have a spare bandage? Spare bandage?
Patient 3: I need a clean cloth for my daughter! She’s burned badly. There’s a— Àh!
NAMELESS DOCTOR pushes through the crowd, holding an indiscernible, bloody bundle with both
arms.
Patient 3: Àh! Look there! Doctor!
Patient 1: Thank the heavens! Kind sir! Please help me: my father—
Nameless Doctor: Everyone! Please move!— out of the way.
Patient 2: (moment of hesitation and slight confusion) But we need help!
Nameless Doctor: I said move out of the way!
He feels the blood dripping from the bundle, through his fingers, and onto his shirt, growing more and
more impatient.
Patient 3: Doctor! Please! Just a moment of your time! My daughter is—
Nameless Doctor: I. Don’t. Care! Mister, you and your daughter and just one in the hundreds of people that are
arriving in the next hour. If you’re really desperate, go to Saigon. Let me through.
The crowd murmurs angrily and parts. Nameless Doctor forces his way through towards the hospital. The
military personnel standing guard outside move to accommodate him, then quickly close the entrance to prevent the
desperate patients from dashing inside. The forlorn faces of Patients 1, 2, and 3 stare after Nameless Doctor’s back
as he vanishes into the building.

Scene 2

NAMELESS PHOTOGRAPHER grits his teeth as he continues pressing down the gas. His pickup truck,
reinforced with bulletproof glass and painted in camouflage, speeds through the narrow road through the dense
forest vegetation. ANOTHER NAMELESS PHOTOGRAPHER sits in the back of the trunk, one hand gripping
the side and the other holding priceless camera equipment. As the truck turns the bend, the road is suddenly cut off
by a damaged tank. Nameless Photographer slams the brakes, and the truck skids to a stop. Another Nameless
Photographer looks in alarm at NAMELESS GIRL curled up in the corner opposite of him, sobbing to herself in a
half-conscious state. She screams hysterically as the truck lurches forward.
Nameless Girl: It hurts! Help me! Please, it hurts!
Another Nameless Photographer: (hissing) Watch it!
Nameless Photographer: (cursing in Vietnamese) Địt mẹ!
Another Nameless Photographer: (sucking in a breath) Bad, this is bad… Maybe try squeezing through from the
right? / There might be enough room.
Nameless Photographer: I know! I know! How’s the girl?
Another Nameless Photographer: You have ears, listen for yourself.
Nameless Girl: (muttering) Someone! Ma… Help me! Am I dying?
Nameless Photographer: (shouting) Hang in there! Do you want some more water? (turning to Another
Nameless Photographer) What are you doing? Get her more water!
Another Nameless Photographer: I am! Focus on driving, goddamnit!
Nameless Photographer steers the car off the road and into the dense forest grasses. There is barely enough
room to squeeze by the tank.
Nameless Girl: (muttering, then screaming) I’m dying! I’m dying!
Another Nameless Photographer: Here, here.

He walks over the back of the trunk, offering a canteen of water. Nameless Girl takes it with trembling
hands and struggles to drink, so Another Nameless Photographer settles himself next to her and holds the canteen for
her. He watches her drink the last bit of water, readjusts the blankets to make sure she’s comfortable, and moves back
to the front of the trunk. Another Nameless Photographer watches Nameless Girl with dark eyes.
Another Nameless Photographer: (leaning over to the open driver’s window) Hey, you better get this vehicle to
the hospital quick. I don’t think she’ll last another hour.
Nameless Photographer’s face doesn’t change, but he presses harder on the gas, zooming through the dense
Vietnamese forest.

Scene 3

Nameless Doctor sorts through his bundle on the countertop in the equipment room on the second floor of
the hospital. A pile of bloody bandages lies to his left. NAMELESS NURSE walks in with a large plastic bag.
Nameless Nurse: May I take that?
Nameless Doctor: (absent-mindedly) Hm? Oh, that. Of course.
Nameless Nurse stuffs the bandages in the bag.
Nameless Doctor: I assume the new supplies have yet to / arrive?
Nameless Nurse: Ugh, that. News came in an hour ago, they lost it.
Nameless Doctor: They…? They lost it.
Nameless Nurse: Hmph yeah, the convoy was attacked by the Vietcong while on its way. And they—
Nameless Doctor: Took the supplies?
Nameless Nurse: Right. Took them for their own guerilla troops. They’ve been buzzing around here recently.
Nameless Doctor: (long, deep sigh) I see.
Nameless Doctor falls silent. Nameless Nurse, taking this as a sign of her dismissal, leaves the room.
Nameless Doctor stares at the rest of his dirty equipment: makeshift scalpels, scissors, empty bottles of medicine with
taped paper labels.

In the washroom, Nameless Nurse enters with the bag.
Nameless Nurse: Here, a new batch of bandages.
She hands it to NAMELESS WASHERWOMAN. She acknowledges it with a nod and a gesture for
Nameless Nurse to set the bundle on the floor.
Nameless Nurse: Try to wash these ones as fast as possible. There was another napalm attack about seven, eight
miles…? I don’t know. But we’re expecting about a hundred more patients coming in during the evening.
Nameless Washerwoman nods again. Her hands never stop, moving rhythmically at a blazing pace.
Nameless Nurse: (taking a bundle of clean, folded cloth) Alright, well, I’ll come in to collect some more in about
half an hour.
She leaves the washing room, picking her way through the makeshift hospital beds. A couple patients
whimper as she passes by; most stare with dull eyes. Nameless Nurse strides down the hallways— also crowded with
patient beds and dawdling family members.
Nameless Old Man: (croaking) Nurse?
He reaches a feeble arm to her. Nameless Nurse halts and looks at him. Half his face is covered in
bandages, but whoever wrapped them didn’t do it very carefully, and cracks of burnt skin show through.
Nameless Old Man: Would you please give me some water? I haven’t had any since this morning.
Nameless Nurse: (swallowing, throat suddenly dry) Ah, of course. I’ll get you some right away.
Nameless Nurse retraces her steps down the hallway. Along the way, she passes by NAMELESS
ATTENDANT who was hurrying in the opposite direction, balancing a pile of papers and bottles of medicine in
her arms. Her eyes light up at seeing Nameless Nurse.
Nameless Attendant: Oh thank goodness! One of the doctors delegated me to inform the hospital director that
everything is full— even the makeshift beds. There’s not even any more materials to make the makeshift beds.
But I’ve got so many other tasks and I don’t have time, could you help me pass along the message?
Nameless Nurse: Of course. I’ll do that right away after I finish giving water to the patients.
Nameless Attendant: Thank you so much.

Nameless Nurse enters a small room with a tiny stove area and a window. She swats at a buzzing
mosquito, then fills the pot with water from the local well and sets it on the stove to boil. While waiting, Nameless
Nurse looks out the window at the small camp in front of the hospital. She sees more people streaming in from the
road in the distance.

Scene 4

A loud honk rings throughout the camp. Dreary-eyed families stare at the military pick up truck. Nameless
Photographer opens the door and hops out. Another Nameless Photographer bundles Nameless Girl up in the blanket
and carefully drops her over the side of the truck, down into Nameless Photographer’s arms. Carrying her, he makes
his way into the crowd.
Nameless Photographer: Move aside, move aside. I have a dying child here. It’s an emergency.
Woman: You have to wait.
Nameless Photographer: I said it’s an emergency.
Woman: Not my words. The hospital isn’t letting anyone in. They’re full to the brim.
Nameless Photographer: So you’re all just… sitting here? How long? / Where will you spend the night?
Woman: Here, in this camp of course. We’ll wait until they either let us in or our wounded ones die.
Nameless Photographer: What? You’ll just—
Woman: What are we supposed to do? We have no medicine, no medical expertise, nothing! We can only wait.
Nameless Photographer: No, no that can’t— I don’t have time, I can’t afford to wait. (pause) I’m going.
Nameless Photographer continues shoving through the crowd.
Woman: (shouting after him) I told you! It’s useless. You have to wait!
Nameless Photographer ignores her and persists until he reaches the hospital.
Guard 1: Sir, are you part of the military?

Nameless Photographer: No, but / I am part of the…
Guard 1: Then I’m sorry, but we’ll have to stop you here. The hospital is full.
Nameless Photographer: I know that! But I need to, or this girl will die. She got hit by napalm and needs
treatment / right away.
Guard 1: And so does everyone else, I’m truly sorry but the hospital cannot admit any more patients right now.
All our staff are overworked and our supplies are stretched to the limit.
Nameless Photographer: There has to be something! Even just a little bit of medicine will suffice. You don’t even
have a little?
Guard 1: (growing impatient) Sir, I told you. You / can’t go in.
Another Nameless Photographer: Hey, what’s the hold up?
Nameless Photographer: Hospital’s full. They won’t take her.
Another Nameless Photographer: What? What’s that supposed to mean? You two, what’s this?
Guard 2: Maybe you could try driving to Saigon? / You will have better chances there.
Nameless Photographer: What? / But that’s so far away!
Another Nameless Photographer: Two hour drive? / The girl will die in the next half hour!
Nameless Photographer: She won’t make it!
Guard 1: I’m sorry but we just—
Nameless Photographer: Hold on! Stop. Alright, how ‘bout this.
Nameless Photographer pulls out his media badge and shows it to the two guards.
Nameless Photographer: I’m a photojournalist working with the US army. Before coming here, I snapped a
photo of this girl running from the napalm. It’s going to be in the global headlines tomorrow. If she doesn’t
make it, you’re all in big, big trouble.

Guard 1 reaches forward to take the badge. He confirms Nameless Photographer 1’s identity.
Guard 1: I see, this is nice and all but—
Guard 2: (pulling Guard 1 to the side) I think we should at least let the higher-ups know.
Guard 1: Hm? Why? There’s almost no chance the guy is telling the truth.
Guard 2: We don’t exactly want journalists coming around here and making the place more busy—
Guard 1: Right, but—
Guard 2: Yeah, listen. Listen, if it’s true, if the guy is really telling the truth, it’ll be a big hassle, and the two of us
will be in pretty hot waters. At least if we let the higher-ups know, and they turn them away, the blame won’t be
on us.
Guard 1: (nodding slowly) I see it. Alright then. (turning back to the photographers) You wait here.
Guard 1 disappears inside the building. The two photographers retreat to the side.
Another Nameless Photographer: (whispering) I didn’t know you were so good at bluffing.
Nameless Photographer: I wasn’t bluffing.
Another Nameless Photographer: Hm? Really? About that photo making global headlines, you weren’t?
Nameless Photographer: Why would I? The world should know about this.
Another Nameless Photographer: That doesn’t mean they will. It only means they should.
Nameless Photographer: (brief silence) They will.
Scene 5

Two men sit on opposite sides of a desk, bent over a binder. The office is crammed with papers, boxes, and
clothes— both professional attire and personal— and there’s barely any space for them to sit.
Nameless Director: You done reading?

Nameless Accountant: Yes… This is pretty bad.
Nameless Director: We won’t have supplies to last through winter. Mid-October is as far as I can stretch it under
normal conditions, but with the irregular flow of war victims… It’s not enough.
Nameless Accountant: Mhm… Sir, with all due respect, why am I here?
Nameless Director: Sorry?
Nameless Accountant: I’m an accountant. I count numbers, I don’t manage them.
Nameless Director: Oh, I know that. It’s just the person who used to manage our finances ran off when the pay
became too low and the work became too much. We can’t find another person, so you’re just our de-facto
financial officer.
Nameless Accountant: So, do I get a raise?
Nameless Director: You’re staring at a spreadsheet riddled with debt and asking me that question?
Nameless Accountant: It was a joke.
Nameless Director: Sure.
Nameless Doctor barges in.
Nameless Doctor: I’ve got good news and bad news.
Nameless Director: Bad news first.
Nameless Doctor: We’ve run out of anesthesia.
Nameless Director: Great. Now leave. Don’t come back again unless it’s to report a genie who magically
conjured up half a year’s worth of supplies.
Nameless Doctor: But what about the good news?
Nameless Director: Nope. Won’t be good enough news. Leave my office.
Guard 1: (knocking) May I come in?

Nameless Director: Is something the matter?
Guard 1: There’s a guy outside who’s working with US media.
Nameless Director: And? If he isn’t a soldier then he isn’t a priority.
Guard 1: He’s brought this girl with him. She looked pretty badly burned by napalm, and she’s probably going
to die in the next half hour—
Nameless Director: So what are you implying? You think I don’t see the massive camp of dying people out
there?
Guard 1: No, no of course you’re aware, sir. That’s not what I’m saying. The thing is, this photographer, he shot
a picture of the girl or something and he says that photo, along with the girl’s story, is going to be in the global
headlines tomorrow. If the girl dies, we’ll be in big trouble. Those were his exact words.
Nameless Director: (laughing) Is he threatening me?
Guard 1: I think he’s desperate, sir. He could be lying, but then again if he’s telling the truth and they’re really
broadcasting it tomorrow, we’ll be in trouble.
Nameless Director: We wouldn’t be able to offer her a bed even if we wanted. One of the nurses updated me just
a little while ago. There’s absolutely no room left.
Nameless Accountant: Yeah, our supplies are stretched so thin…
Nameless Doctor: Er, that’s the good news.
Nameless Director: What? The fact that we have no more / room or supplies is—
Nameless Doctor: No, I meant that I’ve just discharged a couple patients. Two wards. It’s the batch from a week
ago. I just looked them over and they’ve healed up pretty well so I let them go.
Guard 1: So the girl…?
Nameless Director: (frowning) You verified the photographer’s identity.
Guard 1: I… yes. I did.

Nameless Director: Have you personally seen the photo?
Guard 1: No.
Nameless Director: So there’s no proof they actually took a photo.
Guard 1: No, but I can request for them to show it?
Nameless Director: That would make too much of a scene. If we took in the girl, the rest of them would revolt.
(Sighing) Very well. Bring them around to the back door. Be discreet about it.
Guard 1: Yes sir.
He leaves.
Nameless Director: And you.
Nameless Doctor: What?
Nameless Director: Sit.
He sits, albeit begrudgingly.
Nameless Director: Alright now, you two. Any ideas how to make our budget last for another six months?

Scene 6
Nameless Photographer: How long are they going to make us wait?
Another Nameless Photographer: Calm down. Those two guys seemed to believe you. Maybe.
They look at Nameless Girl, who has fallen unconscious and leans against Another Nameless
Photographer’s leg. Guard 1 appears behind them.
Guard 1: Hand me the girl.
Another Nameless Photographer: You’re taking her in? That’s—

Nameless Photographer: Oh good! Good, / good, good.
Another Nameless Photographer: (bending down) Good. / This is good.
Nameless Photographer: Yeah, it’s good. (Exchanging looks with Another Nameless Photographer) Great.
Awesome.
Guard 1: Yeah, some patients just got discharged so… just hand her over, will you?
Another Nameless Photographer: Right.
Another Nameless Photographer picks Nameless Girl up, and hands her over to Guard 1. He nods and
begins to leave. Nameless Photographer moves to follow him but is stopped.
Guard 1: What are you doing? Stay here.
Nameless Photographer: What do you mean? We’re going with you.
Another Nameless Photographer: (putting his hand on Nameless Photographer’s shoulder) We can’t—
Guard 1: Are you wounded?
Nameless Photographer: (Ignoring Another Nameless Photographer) No.
Guard 1: Are you sick?
Nameless Photographer: No.
Guard 1: Then you can’t come in—
Nameless Photographer: —But we have to make sure—
Guard 1: She will live.
Nameless Photographer: How can you be—
Guard 1: She will live.
The two men stare at each other. Another Nameless Photographer breaks the deadlock.

Another Nameless Photographer: Come on. We’re done here.
With his hand still on Nameless Photographer’s shoulder, he turns him away from the guard and begins
walking back the direction they came. Guard 1 watches them for a brief moment and turns away, carrying
Nameless Girl into the hospital. Nameless Photographer glances back at him, but the urging of his friend forces him
to turn back.
Nameless Photographer: But what if she doesn’t make it?
Another Nameless Photographer: She’s being tended to by health professionals. What can the two of us do? /
Our job is done.
Nameless Photographer: We can do so much! We can still pressure the doctors, make them pay more attention
to—
Another Nameless Photographer: Neither of us knows what’s best for her.
Nameless Photographer: But—
Another Nameless Photographer: Our job here is done. Come on, now. Let’s go home.

The End