Richie is normal.

When Richie returns, hostile, Carlyle apologizes, indicates that he is simply looking for friendship, and saunters out. Billy is furious, more so when Richie asks whether his story about Frankie was really about himself. Roger enters and asks for a loan to join Carlyle to go drinking. He invites Richie, who declines; Roger then encourages Billy to go with him, quieting Billy’s fears about Carlyle. They leave Richie alone.

Scene 2 finds all four men lying about after taps. Richie tells of seeing his father walk out on the family when Richie was only six years old; Carlyle says that his father lived nearby but refused to acknowledge him. Richie flirts with Carlyle to annoy Billy, who refuses to leave the room or turn away, as Roger suggests, so that Richie can have sex with Carlyle. Aroused and angered, Carlyle orders Richie to perform sexual acts with him. Roger, now convinced of Richie’s homosexuality, says that Richie wants a black man as an “animal,” then walks out. Carlyle turns out the light. Billy turns it on again to see Richie kneeling before Carlyle, who sits on Richie’s bed. Billy hurls his sneaker at them.

Challenged, Carlyle pulls a knife and orders the frightened Billy to hold out his hand, cuts him, then, anguished, explains that he did not want to hurt anyone. Out of control, Billy admits how ridiculous his sudden fury, his racial hatred, his impulse to strike back are. He nevertheless advances on the cringing Richie and verbally attacks him; then he turns on the weary Carlyle, calling him “SAMBO!” Carlyle instinctively stabs Billy in the stomach.

At first Richie does not notice the stabbing; then he becomes hysterical. Covering his wound, Billy denies that it is serious. Terrified, on the floor, he tries to cover himself with a blanket. Roger runs for help. Carlyle mutters that Billy’s crazed talk of razors and revenge unsettled him. Like a frightened little boy, Billy pats Carlyle’s hand, apologizes and begs not to be stabbed again.

Sergeant Rooney staggers in looking for Sergeant Cokes. Alternatingly attempting to calm and threaten Carlyle, Rooney futilely brandishes his bottle as a weapon. Carlyle lunges at him and stabs Rooney repeatedly. Rooney calls out, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WAIT! WAIT!” then “No fair. No fair!” Then he whimpers, crawls along the floor, stops under Billy’s bed, and dies.

Carlyle runs out. Roger cradles the dying Billy, who is deliriously begging Carlyle not to stab him anymore and threatening to get his dog after him, when an officious military police lieutenant comes running in, leveling his gun at Roger. Richie rushes in with another military policeman, explaining that Roger was not the attacker. A third policeman shoves Carlyle into the room. He rants about being innocently covered with chicken blood. The military policemen quickly ascertain what happened, remove both dead bodies, give Roger and Richie forms to fill out, and leave. Weeping, Roger mops the floor.

Roger accuses Richie of causing the tragedy by not being honest about his homosexuality. Sergeant Cokes, grinning and waving a wine bottle, comes in with affectionate ramblings about his day with Rooney. They were playing hide-and-seek, and he lost Rooney downtown. Roger tells Richie not to tell Cokes about Rooney. Disgustedly, he explains that Richie is crying because he is “queer.” The hardened old combat veteran gently questions Richie about being homosexual and explains that there are worse things, such as leukemia.

Cokes is haunted by the vision of the Korean he trapped in a hole with a grenade and says that now he would release him. His sad, gentle manner quiets the less experienced, tormented young soldiers. In the dim light Roger asks Cokes whether he thought that Korean “was singin’ it.” Cokes says that he was; then, at first mockingly, finally very quietly, he sings an imitation of Korean-language sounds to the tune of “Beautiful Dreamer” (the same tune to which the song about the “beautiful streamer” was sung). It becomes, the playscript says, “a dream, a lullaby, a farewell, a lament.” Then there is silence. The play ends in dim light and a calm atmosphere after Cokes “makes the soft, whispering sound of a child imitating an explosion, and his entwined fingers come apart.”

A theatrical tour de force, Streamers eventually erupts into almost unbearable stage violence, but just when it threatens to become melodrama, it is saved by an unexpectedly touching view of humanity on the part of a formerly ridiculous minor character. Theatrically, the two minor roles of Sergeant Rooney and especially of Sergeant Cokes eventually steal the play. Their transformation from buffoonlike stereotypes into vulnerable, empathetic characters in the last scene is so unexpected that the roles loom larger in final effect than they are in proportion.

The play keeps shifting the audience’s center of attention. For most of the first act, Billy seems the central hero—decent, likable, educated but unassuming, virile, seemingly an ideal average boy. Richie’s mockery, even when directed at himself, and his game-playing refusal to admit or deny his homosexuality seem to relegate him to a tangential point of view. Roger does not have enough to do to seem central. Carlyle’s role seems to be solely that of the antagonist. In act 2, however, their interactions flesh out the characters, creating an ensemble piece in which one can see flaws and values in all roles. The ending, in which the two clownlike intruders provide ultimate horror and a kind of resolution, respectively, pulls Streamers together into a piece that emerges as an evocative slice of life.

The setting is deliberately claustrophobic; one feels as trapped in this one room as the soldiers are in their situation. As the characters behave naturally there, a sense of authenticity is established. The script’s requirement that the young men continually dress and undress and lie about on their own and one another’s bunks reinforces the homoerotic overtones of the play. When the three comrades—Billy, Richie, and Roger—sit on one another’s beds, put a foot on another’s footlocker, or move another’s possessions, that action reinforces their intimacy. When Rooney or Cokes, or, most important, Carlyle, does any such thing, it seems an intrusion. That invasion of property thus precedes the invasion of personal rights, and it is a characterizing device as well as a foreshadowing one. The set is used naturalistically to reflect what such an environment looks like. The dimming of lights at the end of each scene is justified realistically by oncoming night, but it also functions traditionally to bring down the emotional level and indicate an ending.

The play Streamers made its debut on stage in 1976, yet its roots stretch back to 1969, a time when the Vietnam War raged on. This era mirrors Rabe’s own military service from 1965 to 1967—a period marked by a nation splintered over the moral and strategic merits of the conflict. In those days, Lyndon Johnson occupied the Oval Office, stepping into leadership after the assassination of John F. Kennedy on November 22, 1963.

Social Upheaval and Counterculture

The 1960s unfolded as a whirlwind of vibrant upheaval and transformation, occasionally shadowed by violence. Johnson, in collaboration with a cooperative Congress, pushed forward civil rights advancements, building on the foundations laid by Kennedy, crafting what came to be known as the Great Society. In tandem, the Counter Culture emerged, guided by visionaries like Timothy Leary, who encouraged the youth to explore the boundaries of consciousness through drugs such as LSD, urging them to "turn on, tune in, and drop out." This movement also embraced ecological activism, antiwar sentiments, and ideals challenging the 1950s vision of the American Dream, which prized sameness and stability.

Violence and Tragedy

The 1960s bore witness to a surge of violent eruptions—assassinations, racial unrest, and heinous crimes painted the decade’s backdrop. Notable figures like President Kennedy, his brother Senator Robert Kennedy, civil rights icon Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and militant leader Malcolm X were all silenced by bullets. Racial tensions flared, especially in the South, as the federal government enforced desegregation policies, igniting riots like the infamous one in Birmingham, Alabama, in 1963. Northern cities, too, experienced turmoil, especially after Dr. King's assassination, with the Watts riots in Los Angeles in 1965 standing as a particularly intense episode. Meanwhile, the chilling Polanski-Tate murders, orchestrated by Charles Manson and his "family" in 1969, presented a different, sinister face of violence.

The Rise of the Baby Boomers

As the 1960s dawned, the "Baby Boomers," a generation born from the prosperous post-World War II era, began to mature. By 1960, four million of these youths were stepping onto college campuses across America. While some succumbed to Leary’s call, flocking to the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco or similar havens of counterculture, the majority aligned with the values of their predecessors, albeit with introspective contemplation fueled by the Vietnam War and domestic civil rights struggles. Others rode the waves of revolutionary shifts, from the cultural revolution heralded by the Beatles to groundbreaking technological achievements like the moon landing in 1969, less than a decade after John Glenn's historic orbit of Earth. The era also saw inventions like the time-sharing computer, the introduction of the oral contraceptive pill, and the launch of communication satellites, which further connected an already shrinking globe.

Legal and Social Changes

Further transformations reshaped America, as the Supreme Court invalidated anti-abortion statutes, and the feminist movement’s fervor crescendoed with the dramatic bra-burning protests of 1968. These demonstrations targeted the Miss America pageant, critiquing its reduction of women to mere objects of beauty.

Cultural Revolution

The 1960s were a mosaic of thrilling yet unsettling experiences. It heralded a new era of freedom, encapsulated by the mantra "doing your own thing." Challenges to authority erupted not only over the Vietnam War but also in realms like student rights. In the arts, barriers crumbled as films such as Midnight Cowboy, Easy Rider, Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice, and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf boldly addressed topics previously deemed too controversial. By the time the "tribal love rock" musical Hair debuted in 1968 with its audacious nude scenes and provocative language, the public had become largely desensitized. The decade left a legacy of rapid, profound change, the repercussions of which continue to be examined today.

Anti-hero
An anti-hero stands as a stark contrast to the traditional hero, turning the very notion of heroism on its head. This character type is a tool often wielded in realistic literature to challenge or dismantle the inflated, infallible myth of the hero. Much like many hyper-realistic modern narratives, Streamers reduces the heroic ideal to virtually nothing. The play's key figures are nothing more than ordinary people, grappling with confusion and turmoil. Sergeants Rooney and Cokes, both seasoned veterans, resemble more a pair of inebriated buffoons than wise mentors. One of Cokes's so-called "heroic" feats was simply trapping an enemy soldier in a hole and obliterating him with a grenade, a sordid incident born out of sheer luck rather than bravery or shrewdness. It is only through his stoic acceptance of his leukemia diagnosis that Cokes glimpses traditional nobility.

Meanwhile, some of the fragile, untested soldiers struggle to adapt to the Army's modest demands. Martin serves as a minor illustration, yet Carlyle stands as the principal example. His inability results in tragic outcomes: the senseless deaths of two men. Richie, too, embodies a form of anti-heroic clumsiness, seen in his failure to convince Roger of his homosexuality. Even for Billy and Roger, who appear more adaptable, the Army represents a futile cycle of monotonous tasks, a tedious routine of cleaning the cadre room and latrine. The distant war looms as a grotesquely comic menace, devoid of glory or honor.

Conflict

Streamers weaves a tapestry of conflict by intertwining the paths of men drawn from disparate worlds, each bearing their unique backgrounds and desires. These men epitomize civilian life from which the Army recruits and seeks to transform into soldiers, compliant and amenable to its demands.

The play unfolds a complex tableau. Carlyle and Richie, pivotal characters, hurtle towards a coarse sexual encounter, propelled by vastly different motivations. Richie’s true longing is for Billy, yet, spurned repeatedly by Billy’s rejection of his homosexual overtures, Richie attempts to incite jealousy by engaging Carlyle. Carlyle, eager to channel his bottled-up rage through sex, hints that his carnal exploitation of Richie is driven by a predatory urge to assert dominance over his perceived oppressor, a white man. His approach is less seduction and more a brutal invasion, akin to rape rather than mere desire. From this volatile situation, violence erupts, culminating in the tragic demise of both Billy and Sergeant Rooney.

Empathy

A relationship marred by Carlyle’s wrath is that of Roger and Billy. Despite their different upbringings and racial divides, they forge a bond of empathy, showcasing the Army’s potential to bridge such chasms. Working in harmony, they tread the path of friendship, only to have Carlyle shatter this budding alliance by taking Billy’s life.

Mood

The mood of Streamers is an erratic symphony, its tone marked by bursts of explosive intensity. This reflects the inner turmoil and discord among the men, especially Carlyle, whose temperament swings wildly from vindictive rage to child-like bewilderment and remorse, rendering him the most intricate character to unravel.

The distant specter of the Vietnam War casts a long, menacing shadow over the play, influencing its mood profoundly. Though the events transpire stateside, Vietnam’s ominous presence stirs anxiety, fear, and despair among the men. The looming conflict is a palpable threat to their existence, intensifying their emotional tumult.

Motif

Motifs play a pivotal role in Streamers. The paramount symbolic motif is the streamer—a parachute that fails to blossom, sending its user to a tragic end, symbolically rich in its implications. Equally significant is the nearly obsessive compulsion of Roger and Billy to maintain immaculate surroundings. These soldiers, the most well-adjusted among them, embody the Army’s core tenets: that order and discipline should govern a soldier’s habits until they become second nature. In stark contrast, Carlyle’s disheveled and stained fatigues boldly announce his dangerous inadequacy in adapting to Army life.

Naturalism

Though not a documentary in form, Streamers possesses a "slice of life" essence. It mirrors life without bending to a dominant theme, lacking the linear causality typical of a thesis play within the realist tradition. Its characters, predominantly anti-heroes, do not rally around a clear ethical stance. There is no single central figure, no unwavering protagonist. It’s challenging to pinpoint exactly whose story it is, though Carlyle serves as the closest thing to a central plot driver.

Naturalism dissects life with clinical precision, especially its basest forms, striving to replicate existence rather than merely mimic it. While Rabe’s play isn’t about society’s fringes, it does peel back the layers to reveal the unsavory traits in average individuals, like Carlyle’s primitive and crude desires. No "polite" barriers hinder its raw portrayal of character needs, however unsavory. Similarly, no restraint tempers their vulgarity.

Setting
The barracks cadre room, where every dramatic turn of Streamers unfolds, is a paradox—spacious yet stifling. Psychologically, it ensnares both characters and audience alike, weaving a tapestry of claustrophobia and conveying the inescapable "no exit" aura that permeates the play. This oppressive environment is particularly tormenting for those like Carlyle, who grapple with the rigid confines of Army life. The room serves as a poignant microcosm, echoing the turbulent American society of the era, rife with racial strife and the fervor of the anti-war movement.

Beyond the confines of the cadre room and the nameless Army base looms the specter of the Vietnam War—a place Roger and Billy sardonically dub "Disneyland." Within this grim fantasy land, Sergeant Rooney dons the role of "Mickey Mouse," highlighting the absurdity of their perilous situation. The war casts an ominous shadow over each character, a lurking beast ready to pounce. For Billy, the jungle setting is especially nightmarish, a haven for the snakes he dreads. To all, it stands as a relentless, encroaching menace, ever-present like a predator at the threshold.

Slang
One of the most striking aspects of Streamers is its raw, unfiltered language. The dialogue crackles with the energy of diverse voices, each resonating with the distinct legacies and personal histories of its speakers. The exchanges are riddled with expletives and chaotic outbursts, skirting the edge of coherence yet never losing the speaker's emotional essence.

The speech patterns starkly differentiate the soldiers. Richie speaks with a calm, measured tone, his words bookish and grammatically "correct," exuding a serene rationality. In contrast, Carlyle's voice is a whirlwind—erratic, brimming with "jive" slang, and unpredictable mood swings. His speech mirrors his turbulent mind, a symphony of anguish and fury barely tethered to reality.

Symbol
The symbolic weight of the titular reference in Streamers has been widely discussed. In a drunken display, Sergeants Rooney and Cokes stage a mock airborne exercise, mimicking a parachute jump while serenading with "Beautiful Streamer," an echo of Stephen Foster's "Beautiful Dreamer." A streamer refers to a parachute that fails to deploy, sending its bearer plummeting to doom. As the play concludes, Cokes revisits the song in a mock oriental lament, underscoring its thematic significance.

The parachutist becomes a metaphor for the human condition; if the chute unfurls, he survives his descent, yet if it fails, he meets a fatal end. This randomness underscores the soldiers' predicament, as they are "dropped" into a chaos beyond their control. Whether they adapt and thrive or falter and fall is a fate dictated by forces outside their grasp, much like the whims of a perilous parachute drop.

1960s: The shadow of communism loomed just beyond the horizon as Fidel Castro's reign in Cuba served as a stark reminder to Americans that this ideology was merely "90 miles away." The world watched with bated breath as President Kennedy and Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev clashed over the missiles stationed in Cuba. Tensions nearly reached a boiling point until Khrushchev ordered the removal of the threatening arsenal from the island, narrowly averting catastrophe.

Today: While Castro's grip on power remains unyielding and U.S. sanctions endure, the dissolution of Russia's communist regime has marked the Cold War's end. Cuba no longer haunts American dreams as a looming threat.

1960s: In 1962, Rachel Carson unveiled The Silent Spring, a groundbreaking work igniting the environmental movement. In response, the federal government took its first cautious steps to shield the environment, with the Clean Air Act of 1963 serving as its initial milestone.

Today: Environmental issues have surged to the forefront since the 1960s. Current discourse revolves around global warming and the burgeoning population. Despite skeptics' attempts to downplay them, harrowing forecasts of dire events like mass starvation, ozone layer devastation, and resource exhaustion frequently capture headlines.

1960s: The rock festival at Woodstock, New York, in 1969, stands as arguably the quintessential "happening" that epitomized the 1960s' awakening. Amidst the celebration of the burgeoning counterculture and protests against civil injustice and the Vietnam War, throngs gathered for "three days of peace, love, and music."

Today: In 1999, promoters endeavored to rekindle nostalgia by staging a new Woodstock festival. However, this attempt is remembered not for its harmony but for the commercial disaster it became, culminating in minor riots when avaricious vendors exploited concertgoers, extracting exorbitant prices for necessities after banning outside supplies.

1960s: The United States tentatively stepped into the "Information Age," with computers being cumbersome and prohibitively expensive, designed for use by major organizations rather than individuals. By mid-decade, the launch of communication satellites and the advent of fiber optic cables vastly expanded communication capacities.

Today: In the post-industrial world, personal computers have become commonplace in homes. Connectivity spans the globe through computers and satellite links, while the Internet blossoms into a digital library, democratizing access to information by making it swift, affordable, and effortless.

In 1983, Rabe brought the gripping narrative of Streamers to the silver screen. Under the visionary direction of Robert Altman, the film showcases an ensemble cast including Matthew Modine as the earnest Billy, Michael Wright taking on the intense role of Carlyle, and Mitchell Lichtenstein portraying the complex Richie. Adding to this talented lineup are David Alan Grier as the steadfast Roger, Guy Boyd as the commanding Rooney, George Dzundza as the seasoned Cokes, and Albert Macklin as the introspective Martin. For those eager to experience this cinematic gem, it is available on videocassette.

Sources
Clurman, Harold. ‘‘Theatre’’ in the Nation, May 8, 1976, p. 574.

Hewes, Henry. ‘‘To ‘Disneyland’ and Back’’ in the Saturday Review, April 17, 1976, p. 48.

Kauffmann, Stanley. ‘‘Molehills’’ in the New Republic, June 12, 1976, p. 20.

Kroll, Jack. ‘‘Three Cuts to the Quick’’ in Newsweek, February 23, 1976, p. 89.

Rabe, David. ‘‘Afterword: 1992’’ in The Vietnam Plays, Grove Press, 1993, p. 181.

Further Reading
Asahina, Robert. ‘‘The Basic Training of American Playwrights: Theatre and the Vietnam War’’ in Theatre, Vol. 9, Spring, 1978, pp. 30-37. Asahina argues that Rabe, despite his flaws, is the only dramatist focusing on the Vietnam conflict ‘‘concerned with the art of the theater.’’ He considers Streamers Rabe’s best work and separates characters into those who, like parachutists, ‘‘will float’’ and those who ‘‘will plunge’’ to their fate.

Beidler, Phillip D. American Literature and the Experience of Vietnam, University of Georgia Press, 1982. Beidler credits Rabe with producing the most important Vietnam War plays in the 1970s. Streamers is discussed as a play dealing with the brutal influence on soldiers who have yet to go to Southeast Asia, and argues that the character of Carlyle evokes ‘‘the dark latencies’’ in the other major characters.

Hertzbach, Janet S. ‘‘The Plays of David Rabe: A World of Streamers’’ in Essays on Contemporary American Drama, edited by Hedwig Bock and Albert Wertheim, Hueber, 1981, pp. 173-86. Hertzbach examines the metaphors, basic themes, and topical allusions in Rabe’s plays and concludes that Streamers is the most direct, structurally coherent, and ‘‘persuasive’’ of the playwright’s works.

Hurrell, Barbara. ‘‘American Self-Image in David Rabe’s Vietnam Trilogy’’ in Journal of American Culture, Vol. 4, 1981, pp. 95-107. Hurrell discusses the deleterious effect of the Vietnam War on the conscience of America as seen in Rabe’s ‘‘trilogy,’’ which depicts struggles between conflicting and ‘‘incompatible’’ images of one’s self and those of antagonistic forces, including, in Streamers, fellow soldiers with diverse backgrounds.

Kolin, Philip C. ‘‘David Rabe’s Streamers’’ in the Explicator, Vol. 45, Fall, 1986, pp. 63-64. Kolin discusses the archetypical rite of passage theme evoked in Rabe’s play and the important role of the ‘‘destructive father figures’’ whose crimes against the young soldiers lead to the barracks violence.

Kolin, Philip C. David Rabe: A Stage History and a Primary and Secondary Bibliography, Garland, 1988. A major research tool for further Rabe study, Kolin’s book includes an exhaustive bibliography through the 1980s and a thorough stage history of Rabe’s plays, including Streamers.

Marrance, Bonnie. ‘‘David Rabe’s Viet Nam Trilogy’’ in Canadian Theatre Review, Vol. 14, Spring, 1977, pp. 86-92. Marrance argues that Rabe’s so-called ‘‘trilogy’’ is not anti-war per se but is rather concerned with the effects of Vietnam conflict on his ordinary characters. The author claims that Streamers, a modern ‘‘wellmade play,’’ chronicles those effects with ‘‘documentary realism.’’

Rosen, Carol Cynthia. Plays of Impasse: Contemporary Drama Set in Confining Institutions, Princeton University Press, 1983. On pages 236-250 of her study, Rosen identifies both The Basic Training of Pavlo Hummel and Streamers as ‘‘impasse’’ plays. Streamers presents a ‘‘no-exit situation’’ that, in ‘‘entropic’’ fashion, deteriorates into violence, the only possible response in a ‘‘system which promises nothing.’’

Werner, Craig. ‘‘Primal Screams and Nonsense Rhymes: David Rabe’s Revolt’’ in Educational Theatre Journal, Vol. 30, December, 1978, pp. 517-29. Werner argues that language problems lie the heart of Rabe’s war plays. In Streamers it is the ‘‘collapse of metaphor’’ that leads to an inescapable ‘‘concrete reality’’ resulting in death.