The Red Badge of Courage

by Stephen Crane


 


An Episode of the


American Civil War



 


 


 


 


CHAPTER I.



THE cold passed reluctantly from the earth,


and the retiring fogs revealed an army stretched


out on the hills, resting.  As the landscape


changed from brown to green, the army awak-


ened, and began to tremble with eagerness at the


noise of rumors.  It cast its eyes upon the roads,


which were growing from long troughs of liquid


mud to proper thoroughfares.  A river, amber-


tinted in the shadow of its banks, purled at the


army's feet; and at night, when the stream had


become of a sorrowful blackness, one could see


across it the red, eyelike gleam of hostile camp-


fires set in the low brows of distant hills.



Once a certain tall soldier developed virtues


and went resolutely to wash a shirt.  He came


flying back from a brook waving his garment


bannerlike.  He was swelled with a tale he had


heard from a reliable friend, who had heard it


from a truthful cavalryman, who had heard it


from his trustworthy brother, one of the order-


lies at division headquarters.  He adopted the


important air of a herald in red and gold.


"We're goin' t' move t' morrah--sure," he


said pompously to a group in the company


street.  "We're goin' 'way up the river, cut


across, an' come around in behint 'em."



To his attentive audience he drew a loud


and elaborate plan of a very brilliant campaign.


When he had finished, the blue-clothed men


scattered into small arguing groups between the


rows of squat brown huts.  A negro teamster who


had been dancing upon a cracker box with the


hilarious encouragement of twoscore soldiers


was deserted.  He sat mournfully down.  Smoke


drifted lazily from a multitude of quaint chim-


neys.



"It's a lie! that's all it is--a thunderin' lie!"


said another private loudly.  His smooth face was


flushed, and his hands were thrust sulkily into his


trousers' pockets.  He took the matter as an


affront to him.  "I don't believe the derned old


army's ever going to move.  We're set.  I've


got ready to move eight times in the last two


weeks, and we ain't moved yet."



The tall soldier felt called upon to defend


the truth of a rumor he himself had intro-


duced.  He and the loud one came near to fight-


ing over it.



A corporal began to swear before the assem-


blage.  He had just put a costly board floor in


his house, he said.  During the early spring he


had refrained from adding extensively to the


comfort of his environment because he had felt


that the army might start on the march at any


moment.  Of late, however, he had been im-


pressed that they were in a sort of eternal camp.



Many of the men engaged in a spirited debate.


One outlined in a peculiarly lucid manner all the


plans of the commanding general.  He was op-


posed by men who advocated that there were


other plans of campaign.  They clamored at each


other, numbers making futile bids for the pop-


ular attention.  Meanwhile, the soldier who had


fetched the rumor bustled about with much


importance.  He was continually assailed by


questions.



"What's up, Jim?"



"Th' army's goin' t' move."



"Ah, what yeh talkin' about?  How yeh know


it is?"



"Well, yeh kin b'lieve me er not, jest as yeh


like.  I don't care a hang."



There was much food for thought in the man-


ner in which he replied.  He came near to con-


vincing them by disdaining to produce proofs.


They grew excited over it.



There was a youthful private who listened


with eager ears to the words of the tall soldier


and to the varied comments of his comrades.


After receiving a fill of discussions concerning


marches and attacks, he went to his hut and


crawled through an intricate hole that served it


as a door.  He wished to be alone with some


new thoughts that had lately come to him.



He lay down on a wide bank that stretched


across the end of the room.  In the other end,


cracker boxes were made to serve as furniture.


They were grouped about the fireplace.  A pic-


ture from an illustrated weekly was upon the log


walls, and three rifles were paralleled on pegs.


Equipments hunt on handy projections, and some


tin dishes lay upon a small pile of firewood.  A


folded tent was serving as a roof.  The sunlight,


without, beating upon it, made it glow a light


yellow shade.  A small window shot an oblique


square of whiter light upon the cluttered floor.


The smoke from the fire at times neglected the


clay chimney and wreathed into the room, and


this flimsy chimney of clay and sticks made end-


less threats to set ablaze the whole establishment.



The youth was in a little trance of astonish-


ment.  So they were at last going to fight.  On


the morrow, perhaps, there would be a battle, and


he would be in it.  For a time he was obliged


to labor to make himself believe.  He could not


accept with assurance an omen that he was about


to mingle in one of those great affairs of the earth.



He had, of course, dreamed of battles all


his life--of vague and bloody conflicts that had


thrilled him with their sweep and fire.  In visions


he had seen himself in many struggles.  He had


imagined peoples secure in the shadow of his


eagle-eyed prowess.  But awake he had regarded


battles as crimson blotches on the pages of the


past.  He had put them as things of the bygone


with his thought-images of heavy crowns and


high castles.  There was a portion of the world's


history which he had regarded as the time of


wars, but it, he thought, had been long gone over


the horizon and had disappeared forever.



From his home his youthful eyes had looked


upon the war in his own country with distrust.


It must be some sort of a play affair.  He had


long despaired of witnessing a Greeklike struggle.


Such would be no more, he had said.  Men were


better, or more timid.  Secular and religious


education had effaced the throat-grappling in-


stinct, or else firm finance held in check the pas-


sions.



He had burned several times to enlist.  Tales


of great movements shook the land.  They might


not be distinctly Homeric, but there seemed to


be much glory in them.  He had read of marches,


sieges, conflicts, and he had longed to see it all.


His busy mind had drawn for him large pictures


extravagant in color, lurid with breathless deeds.



But his mother had discouraged him.  She


had affected to look with some contempt upon


the quality of his war ardor and patriotism.  She


could calmly seat herself and with no apparent


difficulty give him many hundreds of reasons


why he was of vastly more importance on the


farm than on the field of battle.  She had had


certain ways of expression that told him that her


statements on the subject came from a deep con-


viction.  Moreover, on her side, was his belief


that her ethical motive in the argument was


impregnable.



At last, however, he had made firm rebellion


against this yellow light thrown upon the color of


his ambitions.  The newspapers, the gossip of the


village, his own picturings had aroused him to


an uncheckable degree.  They were in truth


fighting finely down there.  Almost every day


the newspapers printed accounts of a decisive


victory.



One night, as he lay in bed, the winds had


carried to him the clangoring of the church bell


as some enthusiast jerked the rope frantically to


tell the twisted news of a great battle.  This


voice of the people rejoicing in the night had


made him shiver in a prolonged ecstasy of ex-


citement.  Later, he had gone down to his


mother's room and had spoken thus: "Ma, I'm


going to enlist."



"Henry, don't you be a fool," his mother had


replied.  She had then covered her face with the


quilt.  There was an end to the matter for that


night.



Nevertheless, the next morning he had gone


to a town that was near his mother's farm and


had enlisted in a company that was forming there.


When he had returned home his mother was


milking the brindle cow.  Four others stood


waiting.  "Ma, I've enlisted," he had said to her


diffidently.  There was a short silence.  "The


Lord's will be done, Henry," she had finally


replied, and had then continued to milk the


brindle cow.



When he had stood in the doorway with his


soldier's clothes on his back, and with the light of


excitement and expectancy in his eyes almost


defeating the glow of regret for the home bonds,


he had seen two tears leaving their trails on his


mother's scarred cheeks.



Still, she had disappointed him by saying


nothing whatever about returning with his shield


or on it.  He had privately primed himself for a


beautiful scene.  He had prepared certain sen-


tences which he thought could be used with


touching effect.  But her words destroyed his


plans.  She had doggedly peeled potatoes and


addressed him as follows: "You watch out,


Henry, an' take good care of yerself in this here


fighting business--you watch out, an' take good


care of yerself.  Don't go a-thinkin' you can


lick the hull rebel army at the start, because yeh


can't.  Yer jest one little feller amongst a hull lot


of others, and yeh've got to keep quiet an' do what


they tell yeh.  I know how you are, Henry.



"I've knet yeh eight pair of socks, Henry, and


I've put in all yer best shirts, because I want my


boy to be jest as warm and comf'able as anybody


in the army.  Whenever they get holes in 'em, I


want yeh to send 'em right-away back to me, so's


I kin dern 'em.



"An' allus be careful an' choose yer comp'ny.


There's lots of bad men in the army, Henry.


The army makes 'em wild, and they like nothing


better than the job of leading off a young feller


like you, as ain't never been away from home


much and has allus had a mother, an' a-learning


'em to drink and swear.  Keep clear of them


folks, Henry.  I don't want yeh to ever do any-


thing, Henry, that yeh would be 'shamed to let


me know about.  Jest think as if I was a-watchin'


yeh.  If yeh keep that in yer mind allus, I guess


yeh'll come out about right.



"Yeh must allus remember yer father, too,


child, an' remember he never drunk a drop of


licker in his life, and seldom swore a cross oath.



"I don't know what else to tell yeh, Henry,


excepting that yeh must never do no shirking,


child, on my account.  If so be a time comes when


yeh have to be kilt or do a mean thing, why,


Henry, don't think of anything 'cept what's right,


because there's many a woman has to bear up


'ginst sech things these times, and the Lord 'll


take keer of us all.



"Don't forgit about the socks and the shirts,


child; and I've put a cup of blackberry jam with


yer bundle, because I know yeh like it above all


things.  Good-by, Henry.  Watch out, and be a


good boy."



He had, of course, been impatient under the


ordeal of this speech.  It had not been quite what


he expected, and he had borne it with an air of


irritation.  He departed feeling vague relief.



Still, when he had looked back from the gate,


he had seen his mother kneeling among the po-


tato parings.  Her brown face, upraised, was


stained with tears, and her spare form was quiver-



 


10 RED BADGE OF COURAGE.



ing.  He bowed his head and went on, feeling


suddenly ashamed of his purposes.



From his home he had gone to the seminary


to bid adieu to many schoolmates.  They had


thronged about him with wonder and admiration.


He had felt the gulf now between them and had


swelled with calm pride.  He and some of his


fellows who had donned blue were quite over-


whelmed with privileges for all of one afternoon,


and it had been a very delicious thing.  They had


strutted.



A certain light-haired girl had made vivacious


fun at his martial spirit, but there was another and


darker girl whom he had gazed at steadfastly, and


he thought she grew demure and sad at sight of


his blue and brass.  As he had walked down the


path between the rows of oaks, he had turned his


head and detected her at a window watching his


departure.  As he perceived her, she had im-


mediately begun to stare up through the high


tree branches at the sky.  He had seen a good


deal of flurry and haste in her movement as she


changed her attitude.  He often thought of it.



On the way to Washington his spirit had


soared.  The regiment was fed and caressed at


station after station until the youth had believed


that he must be a hero.  There was a lavish ex-


penditure of bread and cold meats, coffee, and


pickles and cheese.  As he basked in the smiles


of the girls and was patted and complimented by


the old men, he had felt growing within him the


strength to do mighty deeds of arms.



After complicated journeyings with many


pauses, there had come months of monotonous


life in a camp.  He had had the belief that real


war was a series of death struggles with small


time in between for sleep and meals; but since his


regiment had come to the field the army had done


little but sit still and try to keep warm.



He was brought then gradually back to his old


ideas.  Greeklike struggles would be no more.


Men were better, or more timid.  Secular and


religious education had effaced the throat-grap-


pling instinct, or else firm finance held in check


the passions.



He had grown to regard himself merely as a


part of a vast blue demonstration.  His province


was to look out, as far as he could, for his per-


sonal comfort.  For recreation he could twiddle


his thumbs and speculate on the thoughts which


must agitate the minds of the generals.  Also, he


was drilled and drilled and reviewed, and drilled


and drilled and reviewed.



The only foes he had seen were some pickets


along the river bank.  They were a sun-tanned,


philosophical lot, who sometimes shot reflectively


at the blue pickets.  When reproached for this


afterward, they usually expressed sorrow, and


swore by their gods that the guns had exploded


without their permission.  The youth, on guard


duty one night, conversed across the stream with


one of them.  He was a slightly ragged man, who


spat skillfully between his shoes and possessed a


great fund of bland and infantile assurance.  The


youth liked him personally.



"Yank," the other had informed him, "yer a


right dum good feller."  This sentiment, floating


to him upon the still air, had made him tempo-


rarily regret war.



Various veterans had told him tales.  Some


talked of gray, bewhiskered hordes who were


advancing with relentless curses and chewing


tobacco with unspeakable valor; tremendous


bodies of fierce soldiery who were sweeping


along like the Huns.  Others spoke of tattered


and eternally hungry men who fired despondent


powders.  "They'll charge through hell's fire an'


brimstone t' git a holt on a haversack, an' sech


stomachs ain't a-lastin' long," he was told.  From


the stories, the youth imagined the red, live bones


sticking out through slits in the faded uniforms.



Still, he could not put a whole faith in veter-


ans' tales, for recruits were their prey.  They


talked much of smoke, fire, and blood, but he


could not tell how much might be lies.  They


persistently yelled "Fresh fish!" at him, and were


in no wise to be trusted.



However, he perceived now that it did not


greatly matter what kind of soldiers he was going


to fight, so long as they fought, which fact no one


disputed.  There was a more serious problem.  He


lay in his bunk pondering upon it.  He tried to


mathematically prove to himself that he would


not run from a battle.



Previously he had never felt obliged to wrestle


too seriously with this question.  In his life he had


taken certain things for granted, never challeng-


ing his belief in ultimate success, and bothering


little about means and roads.  But here he was


confronted with a thing of moment.  It had sud-


denly appeared to him that perhaps in a battle he


might run.  He was forced to admit that as far as


war was concerned he knew nothing of himself.



A sufficient time before he would have allowed


the problem to kick its heels at the outer portals


of his mind, but now he felt compelled to give


serious attention to it.



A little panic-fear grew in his mind.  As his


imagination went forward to a fight, he saw hide-


ous possibilities.  He contemplated the lurking


menaces of the future, and failed in an effort to


see himself standing stoutly in the midst of them.


He recalled his visions of broken-bladed glory,


but in the shadow of the impending tumult he


suspected them to be impossible pictures.



He sprang from the bunk and began to pace


nervously to and fro.  "Good Lord, what's th'


matter with me?" he said aloud.



He felt that in this crisis his laws of life were


useless.  Whatever he had learned of himself was


here of no avail.  He was an unknown quantity.


He saw that he would again be obliged to experi-


ment as he had in early youth.  He must accumu-


late information of himself, and meanwhile he re-


solved to remain close upon his guard lest those


qualities of which he knew nothing should ever-


lastingly disgrace him.  "Good Lord!" he re-


peated in dismay.



After a time the tall soldier slid dexterously


through the hole.  The loud private followed.


They were wrangling.



"That's all right," said the tall soldier as he


entered.  He waved his hand expressively.  "You


can believe me or not, jest as you like.  All you


got to do is to sit down and wait as quiet as you


can.  Then pretty soon you'll find out I was right."



His comrade grunted stubbornly.  For a mo-


ment he seemed to be searching for a formidable


reply.  Finally he said: "Well, you don't know


everything in the world, do you?"



"Didn't say I knew everything in the world,"


retorted the other sharply.  He began to stow


various articles snugly into his knapsack.



The youth, pausing in his nervous walk, looked


down at the busy figure.  "Going to be a battle,


sure, is there, Jim?" he asked.



"Of course there is," replied the tall soldier.


"Of course there is.  You jest wait 'til to-morrow,


and you'll see one of the biggest battles ever was.


You jest wait."



"Thunder!der!" said the youth.



"Oh, you'll see fighting this time, my boy,


what'll be regular out-and-out fighting," added


the tall soldier, with the air of a man who is


about to exhibit a battle for the benefit of his


friends.



"Huh!" said the loud one from a corner.



"Well," remarked the youth, "like as not this


story'll turn out jest like them others did."



"Not much it won't," replied the tall soldier,


exasperated.  "Not much it won't.  Didn't the


cavalry all start this morning?"  He glared about


him.  No one denied his statement.  "The cav-


alry started this morning," he continued.  "They


say there ain't hardly any cavalry left in camp.


They're going to Richmond, or some place, while


we fight all the Johnnies.  It's some dodge like


that.  The regiment's got orders, too.  A feller


what seen 'em go to headquarters told me a little


while ago.  And they're raising blazes all over


camp--anybody can see that."



"Shucks!" said the loud one.



The youth remained silent for a time.  At last


he spoke to the tall soldier.  "Jim!"



"What?"



"How do you think the reg'ment 'll do?"



"Oh, they'll fight all right, I guess, after they


once get into it," said the other with cold judg-


ment.  He made a fine use of the third person.


"There's been heaps of fun poked at 'em because


they're new, of course, and all that; but they'll


fight all right, I guess."



"Think any of the boys 'll run?" persisted the


youth.



"Oh, there may be a few of 'em run, but


there's them kind in every regiment, 'specially


when they first goes under fire," said the other


in a tolerant way.  "Of course it might happen


that the hull kit-and-boodle might start and run,


if some big fighting came first-off, and then again


they might stay and fight like fun.  But you can't


bet on nothing.  Of course they ain't never been


under fire yet, and it ain't likely they'll lick the


hull rebel army all-to-oncet the first time; but I


think they'll fight better than some, if worse than


others.  That's the way I figger.  They call the


reg'ment 'Fresh fish' and everything; but the


boys come of good stock, and most of 'em 'll fight


like sin after they oncet git shootin'," he added,


with a mighty emphasis on the last four words.



"Oh, you think you know--" began the loud


soldier with scorn.



The other turned savagely upon him.  They


had a rapid altercation, in which they fastened


upon each other various strange epithets.



The youth at last interrupted them.  "Did


you ever think you might run yourself, Jim?" he


asked.  On concluding the sentence he laughed


as if he had meant to aim a joke.  The loud sol-


dier also giggled.



The tall private waved his hand.  "Well," said


he profoundly, "I've thought it might get too hot


for Jim Conklin in some of them scrimmages, and


if a whole lot of boys started and run, why, I


s'pose I'd start and run.  And if I once started to


run, I'd run like the devil, and no mistake.  But


if everybody was a-standing and a-fighting, why,


I'd stand and fight.  Be jiminey, I would.  I'll


bet on it."



"Huh!" said the loud one.



The youth of this tale felt gratitude for these


words of his comrade.  He had feared that all of


the untried men possessed a great and correct


confidence.  He now was in a measure reassured.



 


 


 


CHAPTER II.



 


THE next morning the youth discovered that


his tall comrade had been the fast-flying messen-


ger of a mistake.  There was much scoffing at


the latter by those who had yesterday been firm


adherents of his views, and there was even a lit-


tle sneering by men who had never believed the


rumor.  The tall one fought with a man from


Chatfield Corners and beat him severely.



The youth felt, however, that his problem was


in no wise lifted from him.  There was, on the


contrary, an irritating prolongation.  The tale


had created in him a great concern for himself.


Now, with the newborn question in his mind, he


was compelled to sink back into his old place as


part of a blue demonstration.



For days he made ceaseless calculations, but


they were all wondrously unsatisfactory.  He


found that he could establish nothing.  He final-


ly concluded that the only way to prove himself


was to go into the blaze, and then figuratively to



18


watch his legs to discover their merits and faults.


He reluctantly admitted that he could not sit


still and with a mental slate and pencil derive an


answer.  To gain it, he must have blaze, blood,


and danger, even as a chemist requires this, that,


and the other.  So he fretted for an opportunity.



Meanwhile he continually tried to measure


himself by his comrades.  The tall soldier, for


one, gave him some assurance.  This man's se-


rene unconcern dealt him a measure of con-


fidence, for he had known him since childhood,


and from his intimate knowledge he did not see


how he could be capable of anything that was


beyond him, the youth.  Still, he thought that


his comrade might be mistaken about himself.


Or, on the other hand, he might be a man here-


tofore doomed to peace and obscurity, but, in


reality, made to shine in war.



The youth would have liked to have discov-


ered another who suspected himself.  A sympa-


thetic comparison of mental notes would have


been a joy to him.



He occasionally tried to fathom a comrade


with seductive sentences.  He looked about to


find men in the proper mood.  All attempts


failed to bring forth any statement which looked


in any way like a confession to those doubts


which he privately acknowledged in himself.


He was afraid to make an open declaration of


his concern, because he dreaded to place some


unscrupulous confidant upon the high plane of


the unconfessed from which elevation he could


be derided.



In regard to his companions his mind wa-


vered between two opinions, according to his


mood.  Sometimes he inclined to believing them


all heroes.  In fact, he usually admitted in secret


the superior development of the higher qualities


in others.  He could conceive of men going very


insignificantly about the world bearing a load of


courage unseen, and although he had known


many of his comrades through boyhood, he be-


gan to fear that his judgment of them had been


blind.  Then, in other moments, he flouted these


theories, and assured himself that his fellows


were all privately wondering and quaking.



His emotions made him feel strange in the


presence of men who talked excitedly of a pro-


spective battle as of a drama they were about to


witness, with nothing but eagerness and curiosity


apparent in their faces.  It was often that he sus-


pected them to be liars.



He did not pass such thoughts without severe


condemnation of himself.  He dinned reproaches


at times.  He was convicted by himself of many


shameful crimes against the gods of traditions.



In his great anxiety his heart was continually


clamoring at what he considered the intolerable


slowness of the generals.  They seemed content


to perch tranquilly on the river bank, and leave


him bowed down by the weight of a great prob-


lem.  He wanted it settled forthwith.  He could


not long bear such a load, he said.  Sometimes


his anger at the commanders reached an acute


stage, and he grumbled about the camp like a


veteran.



One morning, however, he found himself in


the ranks of his prepared regiment.  The men


were whispering speculations and recounting the


old rumors.  In the gloom before the break of


the day their uniforms glowed a deep purple


hue.  From across the river the red eyes were


still peering.  In the eastern sky there was a yel-


low patch like a rug laid for the feet of the com-


ing sun; and against it, black and patternlike,


loomed the gigantic figure of the colonel on a


gigantic horse.



From off in the darkness came the trampling


of feet.  The youth could occasionally see dark


shadows that moved like monsters.  The regi-


ment stood at rest for what seemed a long time.


The youth grew impatient.  It was unendurable


the way these affairs were managed.  He won-


dered how long they were to be kept waiting.



As he looked all about him and pondered


upon the mystic gloom, he began to believe that


at any moment the ominous distance might be


aflare, and the rolling crashes of an engagement


come to his ears.  Staring once at the red eyes


across the river, he conceived them to be grow-


ing larger, as the orbs of a row of dragons ad-


vancing.  He turned toward the colonel and saw


him lift his gigantic arm and calmly stroke his


mustache.



At last he heard from along the road at the


foot of the hill the clatter of a horse's galloping


hoofs.  It must be the coming of orders.  He


bent forward, scarce breathing.  The exciting


clickety-click, as it grew louder and louder,


seemed to be beating upon his soul.  Presently a


horseman with jangling equipment drew rein be-


fore the colonel of the regiment.  The two held


a short, sharp-worded conversation.  The men in


the foremost ranks craned their necks.



As the horseman wheeled his animal and gal-


loped away he turned to shout over his shoulder,


"Don't forget that box of cigars!"  The colonel


mumbled in reply.  The youth wondered what a


box of cigars had to do with war.



A moment later the regiment went swinging


off into the darkness.  It was now like one of


those moving monsters wending with many feet.


The air was heavy, and cold with dew.  A mass


of wet grass, marched upon, rustled like silk.



There was an occasional flash and glimmer


of steel from the backs of all these huge crawl-


ing reptiles.  From the road came creakings and


grumblings as some surly guns were dragged


away.



The men stumbled along still muttering specu-


lations.  There was a subdued debate.  Once a


man fell down, and as he reached for his rifle a


comrade, unseeing, trod upon his hand.  He of


the injured fingers swore bitterly and aloud.  A


low, tittering laugh went among his fellows.



Presently they passed into a roadway and


marched forward with easy strides.  A dark


regiment moved before them, and from behind


also came the tinkle of equipments on the bodies


of marching men.



The rushing yellow of the developing day


went on behind their backs.  When the sunrays


at last struck full and mellowingly upon the


earth, the youth saw that the landscape was


streaked with two long, thin, black columns


which disappeared on the brow of a hill in front


and rearward vanished in a wood.  They were


like two serpents crawling from the cavern of the


night.



The river was not in view.  The tall soldier


burst into praises of what he thought to be his


powers of perception.



Some of the tall one's companions cried with


emphasis that they, too, had evolved the same


thing, and they congratulated themselves upon


it.  But there were others who said that the tall


one's plan was not the true one at all.  They per-


sisted with other theories.  There was a vigorous


discussion.



The youth took no part in them.  As he


walked along in careless line he was engaged


with his own eternal debate.  He could not hin-


der himself from dwelling upon it.  He was de-


spondent and sullen, and threw shifting glances


about him.  He looked ahead, often expecting to


hear from the advance the rattle of firing.



But the long serpents crawled slowly from


hill to hill without bluster of smoke.  A dun-col-


ored cloud of dust floated away to the right.


The sky overhead was of a fairy blue.



The youth studied the faces of his compan-


ions, ever on the watch to detect kindred emo-


tions.  He suffered disappointment.  Some ardor


of the air which was causing the veteran com-


mands to move with glee--almost with song--


had infected the new regiment.  The men began


to speak of victory as of a thing they knew.


Also, the tall soldier received his vindication.


They were certainly going to come around in


behind the enemy.  They expressed commisera-


tion for that part of the army which had been


left upon the river bank, felicitating themselves


upon being a part of a blasting host.



The youth, considering himself as separated


from the others, was saddened by the blithe and


merry speeches that went from rank to rank.


The company wags all made their best endeav-


ors.  The regiment tramped to the tune of


laughter.



The blatant soldier often convulsed whole


files by his biting sarcasms aimed at the tall one.



And it was not long before all the men seemed


to forget their mission.  Whole brigades grinned


in unison, and regiments laughed.



A rather fat soldier attempted to pilfer a horse


from a dooryard.  He planned to load his knap-


sack upon it.  He was escaping with his prize


when a young girl rushed from the house and


grabbed the animal's mane.  There followed a


wrangle.  The young girl, with pink cheeks and


shining eyes, stood like a dauntless statue.



The observant regiment, standing at rest in


the roadway, whooped at once, and entered


whole-souled upon the side of the maiden.  The


men became so engrossed in this affair that they


entirely ceased to remember their own large war.


They jeered the piratical private, and called


attention to various defects in his personal ap-


pearance; and they were wildly enthusiastic in


support of the young girl.



To her, from some distance, came bold advice.


"Hit him with a stick."



There were crows and catcalls showered


upon him when he retreated without the horse.


The regiment rejoiced at his downfall.  Loud


and vociferous congratulations were showered


upon the maiden, who stood panting and regard-


ing the troops with defiance.



At nightfall the column broke into regimental


pieces, and the fragments went into the fields to


camp.  Tents sprang up like strange plants.


Camp fires, like red, peculiar blossoms, dotted


the night.



The youth kept from intercourse with his


companions as much as circumstances would


allow him.  In the evening he wandered a few


paces into the gloom.  From this little distance


the many fires, with the black forms of men pass-


ing to and fro before the crimson rays, made


weird and satanic effects.



He lay down in the grass.  The blades


pressed tenderly against his cheek.  The moon


had been lighted and was hung in a treetop.


The liquid stillness of the night enveloping him


made him feel vast pity for himself.  There was


a caress in the soft winds; and the whole mood


of the darkness, he thought, was one of sympathy


for himself in his distress.



He wished, without reserve, that he was at


home again making the endless rounds from the


house to the barn, from the barn to the fields,


from the fields to the barn, from the barn to the


house.  He remembered he had often cursed the


brindle cow and her mates, and had sometimes


flung milking stools.  But, from his present point


of view, there was a halo of happiness about each


of their heads, and he would have sacrificed all


the brass buttons on the continent to have been


enabled to return to them.  He told himself that


he was not formed for a soldier.  And he mused


seriously upon the radical differences between


himself and those men who were dodging imp-


like around the fires.



As he mused thus he heard the rustle of grass,


and, upon turning his head, discovered the loud


soldier.  He called out, "Oh, Wilson!"



The latter approached and looked down.


"Why, hello, Henry; is it you?  What you do-


ing here?"



"Oh, thinking," said the youth.



The other sat down and carefully lighted his


pipe.  "You're getting blue, my boy.  You're


looking thundering peeked.  What the dickens


is wrong with you?"



"Oh, nothing," said the youth.



The loud soldier launched then into the sub-


ject of the anticipated fight.  "Oh, we've got


'em now!"  As he spoke his boyish face was


wreathed in a gleeful smile, and his voice had


an exultant ring.  "We've got 'em now.  At


last, by the eternal thunders, we'll lick 'em


good!"



"If the truth was known," he added, more


soberly, "THEY'VE licked US about every clip up to


now; but this time--this time--we'll lick 'em


good!"



"I thought you was objecting to this march


a little while ago," said the youth coldly.



"Oh, it wasn't that," explained the other.  "I


don't mind marching, if there's going to be fight-


ing at the end of it.  What I hate is this getting


moved here and moved there, with no good com-


ing of it, as far as I can see, excepting sore feet


and damned short rations."



"Well, Jim Conklin says we'll get a plenty of


fighting this time."



"He's right for once, I guess, though I can't


see how it come.  This time we're in for a big


battle, and we've got the best end of it, certain


sure.  Gee rod! how we will thump 'em!"



He arose and began to pace to and fro excit-


edly.  The thrill of his enthusiasm made him


walk with an elastic step.  He was sprightly,


vigorous, fiery in his belief in success.  He


looked into the future with clear, proud eye, and


he swore with the air of an old soldier.



The youth watched him for a moment in


silence.  When he finally spoke his voice was as


bitter as dregs.  "Oh, you're going to do great


things, I s'pose!"



The loud soldier blew a thoughtful cloud of


smoke from his pipe.  "Oh, I don't know," he


remarked with dignity; "I don't know.  I s'pose


I'll do as well as the rest.  I'm going to try like


thunder."  He evidently complimented himself


upon the modesty of this statement.



"How do you know you won't run when the


time comes?" asked the youth.



"Run?" said the loud one; "run?--of course


not!"  He laughed.



"Well," continued the youth, "lots of good-


a-'nough men have thought they was going to do


great things before the fight, but when the time


come they skedaddled."



"Oh, that's all true, I s'pose," replied the


other; "but I'm not going to skedaddle.  The


man that bets on my running will lose his money,


that's all."  He nodded confidently.



"Oh, shucks!" said the youth.  "You ain't


the bravest man in the world, are you?"



"No, I ain't," exclaimed the loud soldier in-


dignantly; "and I didn't say I was the bravest


man in the world, neither.  I said I was going to


do my share of fighting--that's what I said.  And


I am, too.  Who are you, anyhow.  You talk as


if you thought you was Napoleon Bonaparte."


He glared at the youth for a moment, and then


strode away.



The youth called in a savage voice after his


comrade: "Well, you needn't git mad about it!"


But the other continued on his way and made no


reply.



He felt alone in space when his injured com-


rade had disappeared.  His failure to discover


any mite of resemblance in their view points


made him more miserable than before.  No one


seemed to be wrestling with such a terrific per-


sonal problem.  He was a mental outcast.



He went slowly to his tent and stretched him-


self on a blanket by the side of the snoring tall


soldier.  In the darkness he saw visions of a thou-


sand-tongued fear that would babble at his back


and cause him to flee, while others were going


coolly about their country's business.  He admit-


ted that he would not be able to cope with this


monster.  He felt that every nerve in his body


would be an ear to hear the voices, while other


men would remain stolid and deaf.



And as he sweated with the pain of these


thoughts, he could hear low, serene sentences.


"I'll bid five."  "Make it six."  "Seven."


"Seven goes."



He stared at the red, shivering reflection of


a fire on the white wall of his tent until, ex-


hausted and ill from the monotony of his suf-


fering, he fell asleep.



 


 


 


CHAPTER III.



 


WHEN another night came the columns,


changed to purple streaks, filed across two pon-


toon bridges.  A glaring fire wine-tinted the


waters of the river.  Its rays, shining upon the


moving masses of troops, brought forth here and


there sudden gleams of silver or gold.  Upon


the other shore a dark and mysterious range of


hills was curved against the sky.  The insect


voices of the night sang solemnly.



After this crossing the youth assured himself


that at any moment they might be suddenly and


fearfully assaulted from the caves of the lowering


woods.  He kept his eyes watchfully upon the


darkness.



But his regiment went unmolested to a camp-


ing place, and its soldiers slept the brave sleep


of wearied men.  In the morning they were


routed out with early energy, and hustled along


a narrow road that led deep into the forest.



It was during this rapid march that the regi-



32


ment lost many of the marks of a new com-


mand.



The men had begun to count the miles upon


their fingers, and they grew tired.  "Sore feet


an' damned short rations, that's all," said the


loud soldier.  There was perspiration and grum-


blings.  After a time they began to shed their


knapsacks.  Some tossed them unconcernedly


down; others hid them carefully, asserting their


plans to return for them at some convenient


time.  Men extricated themselves from thick


shirts.  Presently few carried anything but their


necessary clothing, blankets, haversacks, canteens,


and arms and ammunition.  "You can now eat


and shoot," said the tall soldier to the youth.


"That's all you want to do."



There was sudden change from the ponderous


infantry of theory to the light and speedy infantry


of practice.  The regiment, relieved of a burden,


received a new impetus.  But there was much


loss of valuable knapsacks, and, on the whole,


very good shirts.



But the regiment was not yet veteranlike in


appearance.  Veteran regiments in the army


were likely to be very small aggregations of men.


Once, when the command had first come to the


field, some perambulating veterans, noting the


length of their column, had accosted them thus:


"Hey, fellers, what brigade is that?"  And when


the men had replied that they formed a regiment


and not a brigade, the older soldiers had laughed,


and said, "O Gawd!"



Also, there was too great a similarity in the


hats.  The hats of a regiment should properly


represent the history of headgear for a period of


years.  And, moreover, there were no letters of


faded gold speaking from the colors.  They were


new and beautiful, and the color bearer habitu-


ally oiled the pole.



Presently the army again sat down to think.


The odor of the peaceful pines was in the men's


nostrils.  The sound of monotonous axe blows


rang through the forest, and the insects, nodding


upon their perches, crooned like old women.


The youth returned to his theory of a blue dem-


onstration.



One gray dawn, however, he was kicked in


the leg by the tall soldier, and then, before he


was entirely awake, he found himself running


down a wood road in the midst of men who were


panting from the first effects of speed.  His can-


teen banged rhythmically upon his thigh, and his


haversack bobbed softly.  His musket bounced


a trifle from his shoulder at each stride and made


his cap feel uncertain upon his head.



He could hear the men whisper jerky sen-


tences: "Say--what's all this--about?"  "What


th' thunder--we--skedaddlin' this way fer?"


"Billie--keep off m' feet.  Yeh run--like a cow."


And the loud soldier's shrill voice could be


heard: "What th' devil they in sich a hurry for?"



The youth thought the damp fog of early


morning moved from the rush of a great body


of troops.  From the distance came a sudden


spatter of firing.



He was bewildered.  As he ran with his com-


rades he strenuously tried to think, but all he knew


was that if he fell down those coming behind


would tread upon him.  All his faculties seemed


to be needed to guide him over and past obstruc-


tions.  He felt carried along by a mob.



The sun spread disclosing rays, and, one by


one, regiments burst into view like armed men


just born of the earth.  The youth perceived


that the time had come.  He was about to be


measured.  For a moment he felt in the face of


his great trial like a babe, and the flesh over


his heart seemed very thin.  He seized time to


look about him calculatingly.



But he instantly saw that it would be impossi-


ble for him to escape from the regiment.  It in-


closed him.  And there were iron laws of tradi-


tion and law on four sides.  He was in a moving


box.



As he perceived this fact it occurred to him


that he had never wished to come to the war.


He had not enlisted of his free will.  He had


been dragged by the merciless government.  And


now they were taking him out to be slaughtered.



The regiment slid down a bank and wallowed


across a little stream.  The mournful current


moved slowly on, and from the water, shaded


black, some white bubble eyes looked at the men.



As they climbed the hill on the farther side


artillery began to boom.  Here the youth forgot


many things as he felt a sudden impulse of curi-


osity.  He scrambled up the bank with a speed


that could not be exceeded by a bloodthirsty


man.



He expected a battle scene.



There were some little fields girted and


squeezed by a forest.  Spread over the grass and


in among the tree trunks, he could see knots and


waving lines of skirmishers who were running


hither and thither and firing at the landscape.


A dark battle line lay upon a sunstruck clearing


that gleamed orange color.  A flag fluttered.



Other regiments floundered up the bank.  The


brigade was formed in line of battle, and after a


pause started slowly through the woods in the


rear of the receding skirmishers, who were con-


tinually melting into the scene to appear again


farther on.  They were always busy as bees,


deeply absorbed in their little combats.



The youth tried to observe everything.  He


did not use care to avoid trees and branches,


and his forgotten feet were constantly knocking


against stones or getting entangled in briers.


He was aware that these battalions with their


commotions were woven red and startling into


the gentle fabric of softened greens and browns.


It looked to be a wrong place for a battle field.



The skirmishers in advance fascinated him.


Their shots into thickets and at distant and


prominent trees spoke to him of tragedies--hid-


den, mysterious, solemn.



Once the line encountered the body of a dead


soldier.  He lay upon his back staring at the sky.


He was dressed in an awkward suit of yellowish


brown.  The youth could see that the soles of his


shoes had been worn to the thinness of writing


paper, and from a great rent in one the dead foot


projected piteously.  And it was as if fate had


betrayed the soldier.  In death it exposed to his


enemies that poverty which in life he had perhaps


concealed from his friends.



The ranks opened covertly to avoid the corpse.


The invulnerable dead man forced a way for him-


self.  The youth looked keenly at the ashen face.


The wind raised the tawny beard.  It moved as


if a hand were stroking it.  He vaguely desired


to walk around and around the body and stare;


the impulse of the living to try to read in dead


eyes the answer to the Question.



During the march the ardor which the youth


had acquired when out of view of the field rapidly


faded to nothing.  His curiosity was quite easily


satisfied.  If an intense scene had caught him with


its wild swing as he came to the top of the bank,


he might have gone roaring on.  This advance


upon Nature was too calm.  He had opportunity


to reflect.  He had time in which to wonder


about himself and to attempt to probe his sensa-


tions.



Absurd ideas took hold upon him.  He


thought that he did not relish the landscape.


It threatened him.  A coldness swept over his


back, and it is true that his trousers felt to him


that they were no fit for his legs at all.



A house standing placidly in distant fields


had to him an ominous look.  The shadows of


the woods were formidable.  He was certain that


in this vista there lurked fierce-eyed hosts.  The


swift thought came to him that the generals did


not know what they were about.  It was all a


trap.  Suddenly those close forests would bristle


with rifle barrels.  Ironlike brigades would ap-


pear in the rear.  They were all going to be


sacrificed.  The generals were stupids.  The


enemy would presently swallow the whole com-


mand.  He glared about him, expecting to see


the stealthy approach of his death.



He thought that he must break from the ranks


and harangue his comrades.  They must not all


be killed like pigs; and he was sure it would


come to pass unless they were informed of these


dangers.  The generals were idiots to send them


marching into a regular pen.  There was but one


pair of eyes in the corps.  He would step forth


and make a speech.  Shrill and passionate words


came to his lips.



The line, broken into moving fragments by the


ground, went calmly on through fields and woods.


The youth looked at the men nearest him, and


saw, for the most part, expressions of deep inter-


est, as if they were investigating something that


had fascinated them.  One or two stepped with


overvaliant airs as if they were already plunged


into war.  Others walked as upon thin ice.  The


greater part of the untested men appeared quiet


and absorbed.  They were going to look at war,


the red animal--war, the blood-swollen god.  And


they were deeply engrossed in this march.



As he looked the youth gripped his outcry at


his throat.  He saw that even if the men were


tottering with fear they would laugh at his warn-


ing.  They would jeer him, and, if practicable,


pelt him with missiles.  Admitting that he might


be wrong, a frenzied declamation of the kind


would turn him into a worm.



He assumed, then, the demeanor of one who


knows that he is doomed alone to unwritten re-


sponsibilities.  He lagged, with tragic glances at


the sky.



He was surprised presently by the young lieu-


tenant of his company, who began heartily to


beat him with a sword, calling out in a loud and


insolent voice: "Come, young man, get up into


ranks there.  No skulking'll do here."  He mend-


ed his pace with suitable haste.  And he hated


the lieutenant, who had no appreciation of fine


minds.  He was a mere brute.



After a time the brigade was halted in the


cathedral light of a forest.  The busy skirmish-


ers were still popping.  Through the aisles of


the wood could be seen the floating smoke from


their rifles.  Sometimes it went up in little balls,


white and compact.



During this halt many men in the regiment


began erecting tiny hills in front of them.  They


used stones, sticks, earth, and anything they


thought might turn a bullet.  Some built com-


paratively large ones, while others seemed con-


tent with little ones.



This procedure caused a discussion among the


men.  Some wished to fight like duelists, believ-


ing it to be correct to stand erect and be, from


their feet to their foreheads, a mark.  They said


they scorned the devices of the cautious.  But


the others scoffed in reply, and pointed to the


veterans on the flanks who were digging at the


ground like terriers.  In a short time there was


quite a barricade along the regimental fronts.


Directly, however, they were ordered to with-


draw from that place.



This astounded the youth.  He forgot his


stewing over the advance movement.  "Well,


then, what did they march us out here for?" he


demanded of the tall soldier.  The latter with


calm faith began a heavy explanation, although


he had been compelled to leave a little protection


of stones and dirt to which he had devoted much


care and skill.



When the regiment was aligned in another


position each man's regard for his safety caused


another line of small intrenchments.  They ate


their noon meal behind a third one.  They were


moved from this one also.  They were marched


from place to place with apparent aimlessness.



The youth had been taught that a man be-


came another thing in a battle.  He saw his sal-


vation in such a change.  Hence this waiting


was an ordeal to him.  He was in a fever of im-


patience.  He considered that there was denoted


a lack of purpose on the part of the generals.


He began to complain to the tall soldier.  "I


can't stand this much longer," he cried.  "I


don't see what good it does to make us wear


out our legs for nothin'."  He wished to return


to camp, knowing that this affair was a blue


demonstration; or else to go into a battle and


discover that he had been a fool in his doubts,


and was, in truth, a man of traditional courage.


The strain of present circumstances he felt to be


intolerable.



The philosophical tall soldier measured a sand-


wich of cracker and pork and swallowed it in a


nonchalant manner.  "Oh, I suppose we must go


reconnoitering around the country jest to keep


'em from getting too close, or to develop 'em, or


something."



"Huh!" said the loud soldier.



"Well," cried the youth, still fidgeting, "I'd


rather do anything 'most than go tramping 'round


the country all day doing no good to nobody and


jest tiring ourselves out."



"So would I," said the loud soldier.  "It ain't


right.  I tell you if anybody with any sense was


a-runnin' this army it--"



"Oh, shut up!" roared the tall private.  "You


little fool.  You little damn' cuss.  You ain't had


that there coat and them pants on for six months,


and yet you talk as if--"



"Well, I wanta do some fighting anyway,"


interrupted the other.  "I didn't come here to


walk.  I could 'ave walked to home--'round an'


'round the barn, if I jest wanted to walk."



The tall one, red-faced, swallowed another


sandwich as if taking poison in despair.



But gradually, as he chewed, his face became


again quiet and contented.  He could not rage


in fierce argument in the presence of such sand-


wiches.  During his meals he always wore an air


of blissful contemplation of the food he had swal-


lowed.  His spirit seemed then to be communing


with the viands.



He accepted new environment and circum-


stance with great coolness, eating from his haver-


sack at every opportunity.  On the march he


went along with the stride of a hunter, object-


ing to neither gait nor distance.  And he had


not raised his voice when he had been ordered


away from three little protective piles of earth


and stone, each of which had been an engineer-


ing feat worthy of being made sacred to the name


of his grandmother.



In the afternoon the regiment went out over


the same ground it had taken in the morn-


ing.  The landscape then ceased to threaten the


youth.  He had been close to it and become


familiar with it.



When, however, they began to pass into a


new region, his old fears of stupidity and in-


competence reassailed him, but this time he dog-


gedly let them babble.  He was occupied with


his problem, and in his desperation he concluded


that the stupidity did not greatly matter.



Once he thought he had concluded that it


would be better to get killed directly and end


his troubles.  Regarding death thus out of the


corner of his eye, he conceived it to be noth-


ing but rest, and he was filled with a momen-


tary astonishment that he should have made an


extraordinary commotion over the mere matter


of getting killed.  He would die; he would go


to some place where he would be understood.


It was useless to expect appreciation of his pro-


found and fine senses from such men as the lieu-


tenant.  He must look to the grave for compre-


hension.



The skirmish fire increased to a long chatter-


ing sound.  With it was mingled far-away cheer-


ing.  A battery spoke.



Directly the youth would see the skirmishers


running.  They were pursued by the sound of


musketry fire.  After a time the hot, dangerous


flashes of the rifles were visible.  Smoke clouds


went slowly and insolently across the fields like


observant phantoms.  The din became crescendo,


like the roar of an oncoming train.



A brigade ahead of them and on the right


went into action with a rending roar.  It was


as if it had exploded.  And thereafter it lay


stretched in the distance behind a long gray wall,


that one was obliged to look twice at to make


sure that it was smoke.



The youth, forgetting his neat plan of getting


killed, gazed spell bound.  His eyes grew wide


and busy with the action of the scene.  His


mouth was a little ways open.



Of a sudden he felt a heavy and sad hand laid


upon his shoulder.  Awakening from his trance


of observation he turned and beheld the loud


soldier.



"It's my first and last battle, old boy," said


the latter, with intense gloom.  He was quite


pale and his girlish lip was trembling.



"Eh?" murmured the youth in great aston-


ishment.



"It's my first and last battle, old boy,"


continued the loud soldier.  "Something tells


me--"



"What?"



"I'm a gone coon this first time and--and I


w-want you to take these here things--to--my--


folks."  He ended in a quavering sob of pity for


himself.  He handed the youth a little packet


done up in a yellow envelope.



"Why, what the devil--" began the youth


again.



But the other gave him a glance as from the


depths of a tomb, and raised his limp hand in a


prophetic manner and turned away.



 


 


 


CHAPTER IV.



 


THE brigade was halted in the fringe of a


grove.  The men crouched among the trees and


pointed their restless guns out at the fields.


They tried to look beyond the smoke.



Out of this haze they could see running men.


Some shouted information and gestured as they


hurried.



The men of the new regiment watched and


listened eagerly, while their tongues ran on in


gossip of the battle.  They mouthed rumors that


had flown like birds out of the unknown.



"They say Perry has been driven in with big


loss."



"Yes, Carrott went t' th' hospital.  He said he


was sick.  That smart lieutenant is commanding


'G' Company.  Th' boys say they won't be


under Carrott no more if they all have t' desert.


They allus knew he was a--"



"Hannises' batt'ry is took."



"It ain't either.  I saw Hannises' batt'ry off on


th' left not more'n fifteen minutes ago."



47



 


"Well--"



"Th' general, he ses he is goin' t' take th' hull


cammand of th' 304th when we go inteh action,


an' then he ses we'll do sech fightin' as never


another one reg'ment done."



"They say we're catchin' it over on th' left.


They say th' enemy driv' our line inteh a devil of


a swamp an' took Hannises' batt'ry."



"No sech thing.  Hannises' batt'ry was 'long


here 'bout a minute ago."



"That young Hasbrouck, he makes a good


off'cer.  He ain't afraid 'a nothin'."



"I met one of th' 148th Maine boys an' he ses


his brigade fit th' hull rebel army fer four hours


over on th' turnpike road an' killed about five


thousand of 'em.  He ses one more sech fight as


that an' th' war 'll be over."



"Bill wasn't scared either.  No, sir!  It wasn't


that.  Bill ain't a-gittin' scared easy.  He was


jest mad, that's what he was.  When that feller


trod on his hand, he up an' sed that he was willin'


t' give his hand t' his country, but he be dumbed


if he was goin' t' have every dumb bushwhacker


in th' kentry walkin' 'round on it.  Se he went t'


th' hospital disregardless of th' fight.  Three


fingers was crunched.  Th' dern doctor wanted


t' amputate 'm, an' Bill, he raised a heluva row, I


hear.  He's a funny feller."



The din in front swelled to a tremendous


chorus.  The youth and his fellows were frozen


to silence.  They could see a flag that tossed in


the smoke angrily.  Near it were the blurred and


agitated forms of troops.  There came a turbulent


stream of men across the fields.  A battery chang-


ing position at a frantic gallop scattered the


stragglers right and left.



A shell screaming like a storm banshee went


over the huddled heads of the reserves.  It landed


in the grove, and exploding redly flung the brown


earth.  There was a little shower of pine needles.



Bullets began to whistle among the branches


and nip at the trees.  Twigs and leaves came


sailing down.  It was as if a thousand axes, wee


and invisible, were being wielded.  Many of the


men were constantly dodging and ducking their


heads.



The lieutenant of the youth's company was


shot in the hand.  He began to swear so won-


drously that a nervous laugh went along the regi-


mental line.  The officer's profanity sounded


conventional.  It relieved the tightened senses of


the new men.  It was as if he had hit his fingers


with a tack hammer at home.



He held the wounded member carefully away


from his side so that the blood would not drip


upon his trousers.



The captain of the company, tucking his sword


under his arm, produced a handkerchief and


began to bind with it the lieutenant's wound.


And they disputed as to how the binding should


be done.



The battle flag in the distance jerked about


madly.  It seemed to be struggling to free itself


from an agony.  The billowing smoke was filled


with horizontal flashes.



Men running swiftly emerged from it.  They


grew in numbers until it was seen that the whole


command was fleeing.  The flag suddenly sank


down as if dying.  Its motion as it fell was a


gesture of despair.



Wild yells came from behind the walls of


smoke.  A sketch in gray and red dissolved into


a moblike body of men who galloped like wild


horses.



The veteran regiments on the right and left of


the 304th immediately began to jeer.  With the


passionate song of the bullets and the banshee


shrieks of shells were mingled loud catcalls and


bits of facetious advice concerning places of safety.



But the new regiment was breathless with hor-


ror.  "Gawd!  Saunders's got crushed!" whis-


pered the man at the youth's elbow.  They


shrank back and crouched as if compelled to


await a flood.



The youth shot a swift glance along the blue


ranks of the regiment.  The profiles were motion-


less, carven; and afterward he remembered that


the color sergeant was standing with his legs


apart, as if he expected to be pushed to the


ground.



The following throng went whirling around


the flank.  Here and there were officers carried


along on the stream like exasperated chips.  They


were striking about them with their swords


and with their left fists, punching every head


they could reach.  They cursed like highway-


men.



A mounted officer displayed the furious anger


of a spoiled child.  He raged with his head, his


arms, and his legs.



Another, the commander of the brigade, was


galloping about bawling.  His hat was gone and


his clothes were awry.  He resembled a man


who has come from bed to go to a fire.  The


hoofs of his horse often threatened the heads of


the running men, but they scampered with sin-


gular fortune.  In this rush they were apparently


all deaf and blind.  They heeded not the largest


and longest of the oaths that were thrown at


them from all directions.



Frequently over this tumult could be heard


the grim jokes of the critical veterans; but the


retreating men apparently were not even con-


scious of the presence of an audience.



The battle reflection that shone for an instant


in the faces on the mad current made the youth


feel that forceful hands from heaven would not


have been able to have held him in place if he


could have got intelligent control of his legs.



There was an appalling imprint upon these


faces.  The struggle in the smoke had pictured


an exaggeration of itself on the bleached cheeks


and in the eyes wild with one desire.



The sight of this stampede exerted a floodlike


force that seemed able to drag sticks and stones


and men from the ground.  They of the reserves


had to hold on.  They grew pale and firm, and


red and quaking.



The youth achieved one little thought in the


midst of this chaos.  The composite monster


which had caused the other troops to flee had


not then appeared.  He resolved to get a view


of it, and then, he thought he might very likely


run better than the best of them.



 


 


 


CHAPTER V.



 


THERE were moments of waiting.  The youth


thought of the village street at home before the


arrival of the circus parade on a day in the


spring.  He remembered how he had stood, a


small, thrillful boy, prepared to follow the dingy


lady upon the white horse, or the band in its


faded chariot.  He saw the yellow road, the


lines of expectant people, and the sober houses.


He particularly remembered an old fellow who


used to sit upon a cracker box in front of the


store and feign to despise such exhibitions.  A


thousand details of color and form surged in his


mind.  The old fellow upon the cracker box ap-


peared in middle prominence.



Some one cried, "Here they come!"



There was rustling and muttering among the


men.  They displayed a feverish desire to have


every possible cartridge ready to their hands.


The boxes were pulled around into various posi-


tions, and adjusted with great care.  It was as if


seven hundred new bonnets were being tried on.



53



The tall soldier, having prepared his rifle, pro-


duced a red handkerchief of some kind.  He was


engaged in knitting it about his throat with ex-


quisite attention to its position, when the cry was


repeated up and down the line in a muffled roar


of sound.



"Here they come!  Here they come!"  Gun


locks clicked.



Across the smoke-infested fields came a brown


swarm of running men who were giving shrill


yells.  They came on, stooping and swinging


their rifles at all angles.  A flag, tilted forward,


sped near the front.



As he caught sight of them the youth was


momentarily startled by a thought that perhaps


his gun was not loaded.  He stood trying to


rally his faltering intellect so that he might rec-


ollect the moment when he had loaded, but he


could not.



A hatless general pulled his dripping horse to


a stand near the colonel of the 304th.  He shook


his fist in the other's face.  "You 've got to hold


'em back!" he shouted, savagely; "you 've got


to hold 'em back!"



In his agitation the colonel began to stammer.


"A-all r-right, General, all right, by Gawd!  We-


we'll do our--we-we'll d-d-do--do our best, Gen-


eral."  The general made a passionate gesture


and galloped away.  The colonel, perchance to


relieve his feelings, began to scold like a wet


parrot.  The youth, turning swiftly to make


sure that the rear was unmolested, saw the com-


mander regarding his men in a highly regretful


manner, as if he regretted above everything his


association with them.



The man at the youth's elbow was mumbling,


as if to himself: "Oh, we 're in for it now! oh,


we 're in for it now!"



The captain of the company had been pacing


excitedly to and fro in the rear.  He coaxed in


schoolmistress fashion, as to a congregation of


boys with primers.  His talk was an endless


repetition.  "Reserve your fire, boys--don't


shoot till I tell you--save your fire--wait till


they get close up--don't be damned fools--"



Perspiration streamed down the youth's face,


which was soiled like that of a weeping urchin.


He frequently, with a nervous movement, wiped


his eyes with his coat sleeve.  His mouth was


still a little ways open.



He got the one glance at the foe-swarming


field in front of him, and instantly ceased to de-


bate the question of his piece being loaded.  Be-


fore he was ready to begin--before he had an-


nounced to himself that he was about to fight--


he threw the obedient, well-balanced rifle into


position and fired a first wild shot.  Directly he


was working at his weapon like an automatic


affair.



He suddenly lost concern for himself, and for-


got to look at a menacing fate.  He became not a


man but a member.  He felt that something of


which he was a part--a regiment, an army, a


cause, or a country--was in a crisis.  He was


welded into a common personality which was


dominated by a single desire.  For some mo-


ments he could not flee no more than a little


finger can commit a revolution from a hand.



If he had thought the regiment was about to


be annihilated perhaps he could have amputated


himself from it.  But its noise gave him assur-


ance.  The regiment was like a firework that,


once ignited, proceeds superior to circumstances


until its blazing vitality fades.  It wheezed and


banged with a mighty power.  He pictured the


ground before it as strewn with the discom-


fited.



There was a consciousness always of the pres-


ence of his comrades about him.  He felt the


subtle battle brotherhood more potent even than


the cause for which they were fighting.  It was a


mysterious fraternity born of the smoke and dan-


ger of death.



He was at a task.  He was like a carpenter


who has made many boxes, making still another


box, only there was furious haste in his move-


ments.  He, in his thought, was careering off in


other places, even as the carpenter who as he


works whistles and thinks of his friend or his


enemy, his home or a saloon.  And these jolted


dreams were never perfect to him afterward, but


remained a mass of blurred shapes.



Presently he began to feel the effects of the


war atmosphere--a blistering sweat, a sensation


that his eyeballs were about to crack like hot


stones.  A burning roar filled his ears.



Following this came a red rage.  He devel-


oped the acute exasperation of a pestered animal,


a well-meaning cow worried by dogs.  He had a


mad feeling against his rifle, which could only be


used against one life at a time.  He wished to


rush forward and strangle with his fingers.  He


craved a power that would enable him to make a


world-sweeping gesture and brush all back.  His


impotency appeared to him, and made his rage


into that of a driven beast.



Buried in the smoke of many rifles his anger


was directed not so much against the men whom


he knew were rushing toward him as against the


swirling battle phantoms which were choking


him, stuffing their smoke robes down his parched


throat.  He fought frantically for respite for his


senses, for air, as a babe being smothered attacks


the deadly blankets.



There was a blare of heated rage mingled with


a certain expression of intentness on all faces.


Many of the men were making low-toned noises


with their mouths, and these subdued cheers,


snarls, imprecations, prayers, made a wild, bar-


baric song that went as an undercurrent of sound,


strange and chantlike with the resounding chords


of the war march.  The man at the youth's elbow


was babbling.  In it there was something soft and


tender like the monologue of a babe.  The tall


soldier was swearing in a loud voice.  From his


lips came a black procession of curious oaths.  Of


a sudden another broke out in a querulous way


like a man who has mislaid his hat.  "Well, why


don't they support us?  Why don't they send


supports?  Do they think--"



The youth in his battle sleep heard this as one


who dozes hears.



There was a singular absence of heroic poses.


The men bending and surging in their haste and


rage were in every impossible attitude.  The steel


ramrods clanked and clanged with incessant din


as the men pounded them furiously into the hot


rifle barrels.  The flaps of the cartridge boxes were


all unfastened, and bobbed idiotically with each


movement.  The rifles, once loaded, were jerked


to the shoulder and fired without apparent aim


into the smoke or at one of the blurred and shift-


ing forms which upon the field before the regi-


ment had been growing larger and larger like


puppets under a magician's hand.



The officers, at their intervals, rearward, neg-


lected to stand in picturesque attitudes.  They


were bobbing to and fro roaring directions and


encouragements.  The dimensions of their howls


were extraordinary.  They expended their lungs


with prodigal wills.  And often they nearly stood


upon their heads in their anxiety to observe the


enemy on the other side of the tumbling smoke.



The lieutenant of the youth's company had en-


countered a soldier who had fled screaming at


the first volley of his comrades.  Behind the lines


these two were acting a little isolated scene.  The


man was blubbering and staring with sheeplike


eyes at the lieutenant, who had seized him by the


collar and was pommeling him.  He drove him


back into the ranks with many blows.  The sol-


dier went mechanically, dully, with his animal-


like eyes upon the officer.  Perhaps there was to


him a divinity expressed in the voice of the other


--stern, hard, with no reflection of fear in it.  He


tried to reload his gun, but his shaking hands pre-


vented.  The lieutenant was obliged to assist him.



The men dropped here and there like bundles.


The captain of the youth's company had been


killed in an early part of the action.  His body


lay stretched out in the position of a tired man


resting, but upon his face there was an astonished


and sorrowful look, as if he thought some friend


had done him an ill turn.  The babbling man was


grazed by a shot that made the blood stream


widely down his face.  He clapped both hands


to his head.  "Oh!" he said, and ran.  Another


grunted suddenly as if he had been struck by a


club in the stomach.  He sat down and gazed


ruefully.  In his eyes there was mute, indefinite


reproach.  Farther up the line a man, standing


behind a tree, had had his knee joint splintered


by a ball.  Immediately he had dropped his rifle


and gripped the tree with both arms.  And there


he remained, clinging desperately and crying for


assistance that he might withdraw his hold upon


the tree.



At last an exultant yell went along the quiver-


ing line.  The firing dwindled from an uproar to


a last vindictive popping.  As the smoke slowly


eddied away, the youth saw that the charge had


been repulsed.  The enemy were scattered into


reluctant groups.  He saw a man climb to the


top of the fence, straddle the rail, and fire a part-


ing shot.  The waves had receded, leaving bits of


dark debris upon the ground.



Some in the regiment began to whoop fren-


ziedly.  Many were silent.  Apparently they were


trying to contemplate themselves.



After the fever had left his veins, the youth


thought that at last he was going to suffocate.


He became aware of the foul atmosphere in


which he had been struggling.  He was grimy


and dripping like a laborer in a foundry.  He


grasped his canteen and took a long swallow of


the warmed water.



A sentence with variations went up and down


the line.  "Well, we 've helt 'em back.  We 've


helt 'em back; derned if we haven't."  The men


said it blissfully, leering at each other with dirty


smiles.



The youth turned to look behind him and off


to the right and off to the left.  He experienced


the joy of a man who at last finds leisure in which


to look about him.



Under foot there were a few ghastly forms


motionless.  They lay twisted in fantastic contor-


tions.  Arms were bent and heads were turned


in incredible ways.  It seemed that the dead men


must have fallen from some great height to get


into such positions.  They looked to be dumped


out upon the ground from the sky.



From a position in the rear of the grove a bat-


tery was throwing shells over it.  The flash of


the guns startled the youth at first.  He thought


they were aimed directly at him.  Through the


trees he watched the black figures of the gunners


as they worked swiftly and intently.  Their labor


seemed a complicated thing.  He wondered how


they could remember its formula in the midst of


confusion.



The guns squatted in a row like savage chiefs.


They argued with abrupt violence.  It was a


grim pow-wow.  Their busy servants ran hither


and thither.



A small procession of wounded men were go-


ing drearily toward the rear.  It was a flow of


blood from the torn body of the brigade.



To the right and to the left were the dark


lines of other troops.  Far in front he thought he


could see lighter masses protruding in points


from the forest.  They were suggestive of un-


numbered thousands.



Once he saw a tiny battery go dashing along


the line of the horizon.  The tiny riders were


beating the tiny horses.



From a sloping hill came the sound of cheer-


ings and clashes.  Smoke welled slowly through


the leaves.



Batteries were speaking with thunderous ora-


torical effort.  Here and there were flags, the


red in the stripes dominating.  They splashed


bits of warm color upon the dark lines of


troops.



The youth felt the old thrill at the sight of


the emblem.  They were like beautiful birds


strangely undaunted in a storm.



As he listened to the din from the hillside, to


a deep pulsating thunder that came from afar to


the left, and to the lesser clamors which came


from many directions, it occurred to him that


they were fighting, too, over there, and over


there, and over there.  Heretofore he had sup-


posed that all the battle was directly under his


nose.



As he gazed around him the youth felt a flash


of astonishment at the blue, pure sky and the


sun gleamings on the trees and fields.  It was


surprising that Nature had gone tranquilly on


with her golden process in the midst of so much


devilment.



 


 


 


CHAPTER VI.



 


THE youth awakened slowly.  He came grad-


ually back to a position from which he could re-


gard himself.  For moments he had been scruti-


nizing his person in a dazed way as if he had


never before seen himself.  Then he picked up


his cap from the ground.  He wriggled in his


jacket to make a more comfortable fit, and kneel-


ing relaced his shoe.  He thoughtfully mopped


his reeking features.



So it was all over at last!  The supreme trial


had been passed.  The red, formidable difficulties


of war had been vanquished.



He went into an ecstasy of self-satisfaction.


He had the most delightful sensations of his life.


Standing as if apart from himself, he viewed that


last scene.  He perceived that the man who had


fought thus was magnificent.



He felt that he was a fine fellow.  He saw


himself even with those ideals which he had con-


sidered as far beyond him.  He smiled in deep


gratification.



64



Upon his fellows he beamed tenderness and


good will.  "Gee! ain't it hot, hey?" he said


affably to a man who was polishing his stream-


ing face with his coat sleeves.



"You bet!" said the other, grinning sociably.


"I never seen sech dumb hotness."  He sprawled


out luxuriously on the ground.  "Gee, yes!  An'


I hope we don't have no more fightin' till a week


from Monday."



There were some handshakings and deep


speeches with men whose features were familiar,


but with whom the youth now felt the bonds of


tied hearts.  He helped a cursing comrade to


bind up a wound of the shin.



But, of a sudden, cries of amazement broke


out along the ranks of the new regiment.  "Here


they come ag'in!  Here they come ag'in!"  The


man who had sprawled upon the ground started


up and said, "Gosh!"



The youth turned quick eyes upon the field.


He discerned forms begin to swell in masses out


of a distant wood.  He again saw the tilted flag


speeding forward.



The shells, which had ceased to trouble the


regiment for a time, came swirling again, and ex-


ploded in the grass or among the leaves of the


trees.  They looked to be strange war flowers


bursting into fierce bloom.



The men groaned.  The luster faded from


their eyes.  Their smudged countenances now


expressed a profound dejection.  They moved


their stiffened bodies slowly, and watched in sul-


len mood the frantic approach of the enemy.  The


slaves toiling in the temple of this god began to


feel rebellion at his harsh tasks.



They fretted and complained each to each.


"Oh, say, this is too much of a good thing!  Why


can't somebody send us supports?"



"We ain't never goin' to stand this second


banging.  I didn't come here to fight the hull


damn' rebel army."



There was one who raised a doleful cry.  "I


wish Bill Smithers had trod on my hand, in-


steader me treddin' on his'n."  The sore joints of


the regiment creaked as it painfully floundered


into position to repulse.



The youth stared.  Surely, he thought, this


impossible thing was not about to happen.  He


waited as if he expected the enemy to suddenly


stop, apologize, and retire bowing.  It was all a


mistake.



But the firing began somewhere on the regi-


mental line and ripped along in both directions.


The level sheets of flame developed great clouds


of smoke that tumbled and tossed in the mild


wind near the ground for a moment, and then


rolled through the ranks as through a gate.  The


clouds were tinged an earthlike yellow in the


sunrays and in the shadow were a sorry blue.


The flag was sometimes eaten and lost in this


mass of vapor, but more often it projected, sun-


touched, resplendent.



Into the youth's eyes there came a look that


one can see in the orbs of a jaded horse.  His


neck was quivering with nervous weakness and


the muscles of his arms felt numb and bloodless.


His hands, too, seemed large and awkward as if


he was wearing invisible mittens.  And there was


a great uncertainty about his knee joints.



The words that comrades had uttered previous


to the firing began to recur to him.  "Oh, say,


this is too much of a good thing!  What do they


take us for--why don't they send supports?  I


didn't come here to fight the hull damned rebel


army."



He began to exaggerate the endurance, the


skill, and the valor of those who were coming.


Himself reeling from exhaustion, he was aston-


ished beyond measure at such persistency.  They


must be machines of steel.  It was very gloomy


struggling against such affairs, wound up perhaps


to fight until sundown.



He slowly lifted his rifle and catching a


glimpse of the thickspread field he blazed at a


cantering cluster.  He stopped then and began


to peer as best he could through the smoke.  He


caught changing views of the ground covered


with men who were all running like pursued


imps, and yelling.



To the youth it was an onslaught of redoubt-


able dragons.  He became like the man who lost


his legs at the approach of the red and green


monster.  He waited in a sort of a horrified,


listening attitude.  He seemed to shut his eyes


and wait to be gobbled.



A man near him who up to this time had been


working feverishly at his rifle suddenly stopped


and ran with howls.  A lad whose face had borne


an expression of exalted courage, the majesty of


he who dares give his life, was, at an instant,


smitten abject.  He blanched like one who has


come to the edge of a cliff at midnight and is sud-


denly made aware.  There was a revelation.  He,


too, threw down his gun and fled.  There was no


shame in his face.  He ran like a rabbit.



Others began to scamper away through the


smoke.  The youth turned his head, shaken from


his trance by this movement as if the regiment


was leaving him behind.  He saw the few fleeting


forms.



He yelled then with fright and swung about.


For a moment, in the great clamor, he was like a


proverbial chicken.  He lost the direction of


safety.  Destruction threatened him from all


points.



Directly he began to speed toward the rear in


great leaps.  His rifle and cap were gone.  His


unbuttoned coat bulged in the wind.  The flap of


his cartridge box bobbed wildly, and his canteen,


by its slender cord, swung out behind.  On his


face was all the horror of those things which he


imagined.



The lieutenant sprang forward bawling.  The


youth saw his features wrathfully red, and saw


him make a dab with his sword.  His one thought


of the incident was that the lieutenant was a pecul-


iar creature to feel interested in such matters


upon this occasion.



He ran like a blind man.  Two or three times


he fell down.  Once he knocked his shoulder so


heavily against a tree that he went headlong.



Since he had turned his back upon the fight


his fears had been wondrously magnified.  Death


about to thrust him between the shoulder blades


was far more dreadful than death about to smite


him between the eyes.  When he thought of it


later, he conceived the impression that it is better


to view the appalling than to be merely within


hearing.  The noises of the battle were like


stones; he believed himself liable to be crushed.



As he ran he mingled with others.  He


dimly saw men on his right and on his left, and


he heard footsteps behind him.  He thought that


all the regiment was fleeing, pursued by these


ominous crashes.



In his flight the sound of these following foot-


steps gave him his one meager relief.  He felt


vaguely that death must make a first choice of


the men who were nearest; the initial morsels for


the dragons would be then those who were fol-


lowing him.  So he displayed the zeal of an insane


sprinter in his purpose to keep them in the rear.


There was a race.



As he, leading, went across a little field, he


found himself in a region of shells.  They hurtled


over his head with long wild screams.  As he


listened he imagined them to have rows of cruel


teeth that grinned at him.  Once one lit before


him and the livid lightning of the explosion


effectually barred the way in his chosen direc-


tion.  He groveled on the ground and then


springing up went careering off through some


bushes.



He experienced a thrill of amazement when


he came within view of a battery in action.  The


men there seemed to be in conventional moods,


altogether unaware of the impending annihila-


tion.  The battery was disputing with a distant


antagonist and the gunners were wrapped in


admiration of their shooting.  They were con-


tinually bending in coaxing postures over the


guns.  They seemed to be patting them on the


back and encouraging them with words.  The


guns, stolid and undaunted, spoke with dogged


valor.



The precise gunners were coolly enthusiastic.


They lifted their eyes every chance to the smoke-


wreathed hillock from whence the hostile battery


addressed them.  The youth pitied them as he


ran.  Methodical idiots!  Machine-like fools!  The


refined joy of planting shells in the midst of the


other battery's formation would appear a little


thing when the infantry came swooping out of


the woods.



The face of a youthful rider, who was jerking


his frantic horse with an abandon of temper


he might display in a placid barnyard, was im-


pressed deeply upon his mind.  He knew that


he looked upon a man who would presently be


dead.



Too, he felt a pity for the guns, standing, six


good comrades, in a bold row.



He saw a brigade going to the relief of its pes-


tered fellows.  He scrambled upon a wee hill and


watched it sweeping finely, keeping formation in


difficult places.  The blue of the line was crusted


with steel color, and the brilliant flags projected.


Officers were shouting.



This sight also filled him with wonder.  The


brigade was hurrying briskly to be gulped into


the infernal mouths of the war god.  What man-


ner of men were they, anyhow?  Ah, it was some


wondrous breed!  Or else they didn't compre-


hend--the fools.



A furious order caused commotion in the artil-


lery.  An officer on a bounding horse made mani-


acal motions with his arms.  The teams went


swinging up from the rear, the guns were whirled


about, and the battery scampered away.  The


cannon with their noses poked slantingly at the


ground grunted and grumbled like stout men,


brave but with objections to hurry.



The youth went on, moderating his pace since


he had left the place of noises.



Later he came upon a general of division


seated upon a horse that pricked its ears in


an interested way at the battle.  There was a


great gleaming of yellow and patent leather


about the saddle and bridle.  The quiet man


astride looked mouse-colored upon such a splen-


did charger.



A jingling staff was galloping hither and


thither.  Sometimes the general was surrounded


by horsemen and at other times he was quite


alone.  He looked to be much harassed.  He had


the appearance of a business man whose market


is swinging up and down.



The youth went slinking around this spot.


He went as near as he dared trying to overhear


words.  Perhaps the general, unable to compre-


hend chaos, might call upon him for information.


And he could tell him.  He knew all concerning


it.  Of a surety the force was in a fix, and any


fool could see that if they did not retreat while


they had opportunity--why--



He felt that he would like to thrash the gen-


eral, or at least approach and tell him in plain


words exactly what he thought him to be.  It


was criminal to stay calmly in one spot and make


no effort to stay destruction.  He loitered in a


fever of eagerness for the division commander to


apply to him.



As he warily moved about, he heard the gen-


eral call out irritably: "Tompkins, go over an'


see Taylor, an' tell him not t' be in such an all-


fired hurry; tell him t' halt his brigade in th'


edge of th' woods; tell him t' detach a reg'ment


--say I think th' center 'll break if we don't help


it out some; tell him t' hurry up."



A slim youth on a fine chestnut horse caught


these swift words from the mouth of his superior.


He made his horse bound into a gallop almost


from a walk in his haste to go upon his mission.


There was a cloud of dust.



A moment later the youth saw the general


bounce excitedly in his saddle.



"Yes, by heavens, they have!"  The officer


leaned forward.  His face was aflame with excite-


ment.  "Yes, by heavens, they 've held 'im!


They 've held 'im!"



He began to blithely roar at his staff: "We 'll


wallop 'im now.  We 'll wallop 'im now.  We 've


got 'em sure."  He turned suddenly upon an aid:


"Here--you--Jones--quick--ride after Tompkins


--see Taylor--tell him t' go in--everlastingly--


like blazes--anything."



As another officer sped his horse after the first


messenger, the general beamed upon the earth


like a sun.  In his eyes was a desire to chant a


paean.  He kept repeating, "They 've held 'em,


by heavens!"



His excitement made his horse plunge, and he


merrily kicked and swore at it.  He held a little


carnival of joy on horseback.



 


 


CHAPTER VII.



 


THE youth cringed as if discovered in a crime.


By heavens, they had won after all!  The im-


becile line had remained and become victors.


He could hear cheering.



He lifted himself upon his toes and looked in


the direction of the fight.  A yellow fog lay wal-


lowing on the treetops.  From beneath it came


the clatter of musketry.  Hoarse cries told of an


advance.



He turned away amazed and angry.  He felt


that he had been wronged.



He had fled, he told himself, because annihila-


tion approached.  He had done a good part in


saving himself, who was a little piece of the army.


He had considered the time, he said, to be one in


which it was the duty of every little piece to res-


cue itself if possible.  Later the officers could fit


the little pieces together again, and make a battle


front.  If none of the little pieces were wise enough


to save themselves from the flurry of death at such



75


a time, why, then, where would be the army?  It


was all plain that he had proceeded according to


very correct and commendable rules.  His ac-


tions had been sagacious things.  They had been


full of strategy.  They were the work of a mas-


ter's legs.



Thoughts of his comrades came to him.  The


brittle blue line had withstood the blows and won.


He grew bitter over it.  It seemed that the blind


ignorance and stupidity of those little pieces had


betrayed him.  He had been overturned and


crushed by their lack of sense in holding the po-


sition, when intelligent deliberation would have


convinced them that it was impossible.  He, the


enlightened man who looks afar in the dark, had


fled because of his superior perceptions and


knowledge.  He felt a great anger against his


comrades.  He knew it could be proved that


they had been fools.



He wondered what they would remark when


later he appeared in camp.  His mind heard


howls of derision.  Their density would not en-


able them to understand his sharper point of


view.



He began to pity himself acutely.  He was


ill used.  He was trodden beneath the feet of an


iron injustice.  He had proceeded with wisdom


and from the most righteous motives under


heaven's blue only to be frustrated by hateful


circumstances.



A dull, animal-like rebellion against his fel-


lows, war in the abstract, and fate grew within


him.  He shambled along with bowed head, his


brain in a tumult of agony and despair.  When


he looked loweringly up, quivering at each


sound, his eyes had the expression of those of


a criminal who thinks his guilt and his pun-


ishment great, and knows that he can find no


words.



He went from the fields into a thick woods, as


if resolved to bury himself.  He wished to get


out of hearing of the crackling shots which were


to him like voices.



The ground was cluttered with vines and


bushes, and the trees grew close and spread out


like bouquets.  He was obliged to force his way


with much noise.  The creepers, catching against


his legs, cried out harshly as their sprays were


torn from the barks of trees.  The swishing sap-


lings tried to make known his presence to the


world.  He could not conciliate the forest.  As


he made his way, it was always calling out prot-


estations.  When he separated embraces of trees


and vines the disturbed foliages waved their arms


and turned their face leaves toward him.  He


dreaded lest these noisy motions and cries should


bring men to look at him.  So he went far, seek-


ing dark and intricate places.



After a time the sound of musketry grew faint


and the cannon boomed in the distance.  The sun,


suddenly apparent, blazed among the trees.  The


insects were making rhythmical noises.  They


seemed to be grinding their teeth in unison.  A


woodpecker stuck his impudent head around the


side of a tree.  A bird flew on lighthearted wing.



Off was the rumble of death.  It seemed now


that Nature had no ears.



This landscape gave him assurance.  A fair


field holding life.  It was the religion of peace.


It would die if its timid eyes were compelled to


see blood.  He conceived Nature to be a woman


with a deep aversion to tragedy.



He threw a pine cone at a jovial squirrel, and


he ran with chattering fear.  High in a treetop


he stopped, and, poking his head cautiously from


behind a branch, looked down with an air of trepi-


dation.



The youth felt triumphant at this exhibition.


There was the law, he said.  Nature had given


him a sign.  The squirrel, immediately upon rec-


ognizing danger, had taken to his legs without


ado.  He did not stand stolidly baring his furry


belly to the missile, and die with an upward


glance at the sympathetic heavens.  On the con-


trary, he had fled as fast as his legs could carry


him; and he was but an ordinary squirrel, too--


doubtless no philosopher of his race.  The youth


wended, feeling that Nature was of his mind.


She re-enforced his argument with proofs that


lived where the sun shone.



Once he found himself almost into a swamp.


He was obliged to walk upon bog tufts and


watch his feet to keep from the oily mire.  Paus-


ing at one time to look about him he saw, out at


some black water, a small animal pounce in and


emerge directly with a gleaming fish.



The youth went again into the deep thickets.


The brushed branches made a noise that drowned


the sounds of cannon.  He walked on, going from


obscurity into promises of a greater obscurity.



At length he reached a place where the high,


arching boughs made a chapel.  He softly pushed


the green doors aside and entered.  Pine needles


were a gentle brown carpet.  There was a reli-


gious half light.



Near the threshold he stopped, horror-stricken


at the sight of a thing.



He was being looked at by a dead man who


was seated with his back against a columnlike


tree.  The corpse was dressed in a uniform that


once had been blue, but was now faded to a mel-


ancholy shade of green.  The eyes, staring at the


youth, had changed to the dull hue to be seen on


the side of a dead fish.  The mouth was open.


Its red had changed to an appalling yellow.


Over the gray skin of the face ran little ants.


One was trundling some sort of a bundle along


the upper lip.



The youth gave a shriek as he confronted the


thing.  He was for moments turned to stone be-


fore it.  He remained staring into the liquid-look-


ing eyes.  The dead man and the living man ex-


changed a long look.  Then the youth cautiously


put one hand behind him and brought it against


a tree.  Leaning upon this he retreated, step by


step, with his face still toward the thing.  He


feared that if he turned his back the body might


spring up and stealthily pursue him.



The branches, pushing against him, threat-


ened to throw him over upon it.  His unguided


feet, too, caught aggravatingly in brambles; and


with it all he received a subtle suggestion to


touch the corpse.  As he thought of his hand


upon it he shuddered profoundly.



At last he burst the bonds which had fastened


him to the spot and fled, unheeding the under-


brush.  He was pursued by a sight of the black


ants swarming greedily upon the gray face and


venturing horribly near to the eyes.



After a time he paused, and, breathless and


panting, listened.  He imagined some strange


voice would come from the dead throat and


squawk after him in horrible menaces.



The trees about the portal of the chapel


moved soughingly in a soft wind.  A sad silence


was upon the little guarding edifice.



 


 


 


CHAPTER VIII.



 


THE trees began softly to sing a hymn of twi-


light.  The sun sank until slanted bronze rays


struck the forest.  There was a lull in the noises


of insects as if they had bowed their beaks and


were making a devotional pause.  There was


silence save for the chanted chorus of the trees.



Then, upon this stillness, there suddenly broke


a tremendous clangor of sounds.  A crimson roar


came from the distance.



The youth stopped.  He was transfixed by


this terrific medley of all noises.  It was as if


worlds were being rended.  There was the rip-


ping sound of musketry and the breaking crash


of the artillery.



His mind flew in all directions.  He conceived


the two armies to be at each other panther


fashion.  He listened for a time.  Then he began


to run in the direction of the battle.  He saw


that it was an ironical thing for him to be run-


ning thus toward that which he had been at such



82


pains to avoid.  But he said, in substance, to him-


self that if the earth and the moon were about to


clash, many persons would doubtless plan to get


upon the roofs to witness the collision.



As he ran, he became aware that the forest


had stopped its music, as if at last becoming


capable of hearing the foreign sounds.  The trees


hushed and stood motionless.  Everything seemed


to be listening to the crackle and clatter and ear-


shaking thunder.  The chorus pealed over the


still earth.



It suddenly occurred to the youth that the


fight in which he had been was, after all, but


perfunctory popping.  In the hearing of this


present din he was doubtful if he had seen real


battle scenes.  This uproar explained a celes-


tial battle; it was tumbling hordes a-struggle in


the air.



Reflecting, he saw a sort of a humor in the


point of view of himself and his fellows during


the late encounter.  They had taken themselves


and the enemy very seriously and had imagined


that they were deciding the war.  Individuals


must have supposed that they were cutting the


letters of their names deep into everlasting tablets


of brass, or enshrining their reputations forever in


the hearts of their countrymen, while, as to fact,


the affair would appear in printed reports under a


meek and immaterial title.  But he saw that it was


good, else, he said, in battle every one would


surely run save forlorn hopes and their ilk.



He went rapidly on.  He wished to come to


the edge of the forest that he might peer out.



As he hastened, there passed through his mind


pictures of stupendous conflicts.  His accumulated


thought upon such subjects was used to form


scenes.  The noise was as the voice of an eloquent


being, describing.



Sometimes the brambles formed chains and


tried to hold him back.  Trees, confronting him,


stretched out their arms and forbade him to pass.


After its previous hostility this new resistance of


the forest filled him with a fine bitterness.  It


seemed that Nature could not be quite ready to


kill him.



But he obstinately took roundabout ways, and


presently he was where he could see long gray


walls of vapor where lay battle lines.  The voices


of cannon shook him.  The musketry sounded in


long irregular surges that played havoc with his


ears.  He stood regardant for a moment.  His


eyes had an awestruck expression.  He gawked


in the direction of the fight.



Presently he proceeded again on his forward


way.  The battle was like the grinding of an


immense and terrible machine to him.  Its com-


plexities and powers, its grim processes, fascinated


him.  He must go close and see it produce


corpses.



He came to a fence and clambered over it.


On the far side, the ground was littered with


clothes and guns.  A newspaper, folded up, lay


in the dirt.  A dead soldier was stretched with


his face hidden in his arm.  Farther off there


was a group of four or five corpses keeping


mournful company.  A hot sun had blazed upon


the spot.



In this place the youth felt that he was an


invader.  This forgotten part of the battle ground


was owned by the dead men, and he hurried, in


the vague apprehension that one of the swollen


forms would rise and tell him to begone.



He came finally to a road from which he


could see in the distance dark and agitated


bodies of troops, smoke-fringed.  In the lane


was a blood-stained crowd streaming to the rear.


The wounded men were cursing, groaning, and


wailing.  In the air, always, was a mighty swell


of sound that it seemed could sway the earth.


With the courageous words of the artillery and


the spiteful sentences of the musketry mingled


red cheers.  And from this region of noises came


the steady current of the maimed.



One of the wounded men had a shoeful of


blood.  He hopped like a schoolboy in a game.


He was laughing hysterically.



One was swearing that he had been shot in the


arm through the commanding general's misman-


agement of the army.  One was marching with


an air imitative of some sublime drum major.


Upon his features was an unholy mixture of


merriment and agony.  As he marched he sang


a bit of doggerel in a high and quavering voice:



 


"Sing a song 'a vic'try,


   A pocketful 'a bullets,


Five an' twenty dead men


   Baked in a--pie."



Parts of the procession limped and staggered to


this tune.



Another had the gray seal of death already


upon his face.  His lips were curled in hard lines


and his teeth were clinched.  His hands were


bloody from where he had pressed them upon his


wound.  He seemed to be awaiting the moment


when he should pitch headlong.  He stalked like


the specter of a soldier, his eyes burning with the


power of a stare into the unknown.



There were some who proceeded sullenly, full


of anger at their wounds, and ready to turn upon


anything as an obscure cause.



An officer was carried along by two privates.


He was peevish.  "Don't joggle so, Johnson, yeh


fool," he cried.  "Think m' leg is made of iron?


If yeh can't carry me decent, put me down an'


let some one else do it."



He bellowed at the tottering crowd who


blocked the quick march of his bearers.  "Say,


make way there, can't yeh?  Make way, dickens


take it all."



They sulkily parted and went to the road-


sides.  As he was carried past they made pert


remarks to him.  When he raged in reply and


threatened them, they told him to be damned.



The shoulder of one of the tramping bearers


knocked heavily against the spectral soldier who


was staring into the unknown.



The youth joined this crowd and marched


along with it.  The torn bodies expressed the


awful machinery in which the men had been


entangled.



Orderlies and couriers occasionally broke


through the throng in the roadway, scattering


wounded men right and left, galloping on fol-


lowed by howls.  The melancholy march was


continually disturbed by the messengers, and


sometimes by bustling batteries that came swing-


ing and thumping down upon them, the officers


shouting orders to clear the way.



There was a tattered man, fouled with dust,


blood and powder stain from hair to shoes, who


trudged quietly at the youth's side.  He was lis-


tening with eagerness and much humility to the


lurid descriptions of a bearded sergeant.  His


lean features wore an expression of awe and ad-


miration.  He was like a listener in a country


store to wondrous tales told among the sugar


barrels.  He eyed the story-teller with unspeak-


able wonder.  His mouth was agape in yokel


fashion.



The sergeant, taking note of this, gave pause


to his elaborate history while he administered a


sardonic comment.  "Be keerful, honey, you 'll


be a-ketchin' flies," he said.



The tattered man shrank back abashed.



After a time he began to sidle near to the


youth, and in a different way try to make him a


friend.  His voice was gentle as a girl's voice


and his eyes were pleading.  The youth saw


with surprise that the soldier had two wounds,


one in the head, bound with a blood-soaked rag,


and the other in the arm, making that member


dangle like a broken bough.



After they had walked together for some time


the tattered man mustered sufficient courage to


speak.  "Was pretty good fight, wa'n't it?"


he timidly said.  The youth, deep in thought,


glanced up at the bloody and grim figure with


its lamblike eyes.  "What?"



"Was pretty good fight, wa'n't it?



"Yes," said the youth shortly.  He quick-


ened his pace.



But the other hobbled industriously after him.


There was an air of apology in his manner, but


he evidently thought that he needed only to talk


for a time, and the youth would perceive that he


was a good fellow.



"Was pretty good fight, wa'n't it?" he began


in a small voice, and then he achieved the forti-


tude to continue.  "Dern me if I ever see fellers


fight so.  Laws, how they did fight!  I knowed


th' boys 'd like when they onct got square at it.


Th' boys ain't had no fair chanct up t' now, but


this time they showed what they was.  I knowed


it 'd turn out this way.  Yeh can't lick them boys.


No, sir!  They're fighters, they be."



He breathed a deep breath of humble ad-


miration.  He had looked at the youth for en-


couragement several times.  He received none,


but gradually he seemed to get absorbed in his


subject.



"I was talkin' 'cross pickets with a boy from


Georgie, onct, an' that boy, he ses, 'Your fellers


'll all run like hell when they onct hearn a gun,'


he ses.  'Mebbe they will,' I ses, 'but I don't


b'lieve none of it,' I ses; 'an' b'jiminey,' I ses back


t' 'um, 'mebbe your fellers 'll all run like hell


when they onct hearn a gun,' I ses.  He larfed.


Well, they didn't run t' day, did they, hey?  No,


sir!  They fit, an' fit, an' fit."



His homely face was suffused with a light of


love for the army which was to him all things


beautiful and powerful.



After a time he turned to the youth.  "Where


yeh hit, ol' boy?" he asked in a brotherly tone.



The youth felt instant panic at this question,


although at first its full import was not borne in


upon him.



"What?" he asked.



"Where yeh hit?" repeated the tattered man.



"Why," began the youth, "I--I--that is--


why--I--"



He turned away suddenly and slid through


the crowd.  His brow was heavily flushed, and


his fingers were picking nervously at one of his


buttons.  He bent his head and fastened his eyes


studiously upon the button as if it were a little


problem.



The tattered man looked after him in aston-


ishment.



 


 


 


CHAPTER IX.



 


THE youth fell back in the procession until


the tattered soldier was not in sight.  Then he


started to walk on with the others.



But he was amid wounds.  The mob of men


was bleeding.  Because of the tattered soldier's


question he now felt that his shame could be


viewed.  He was continually casting sidelong


glances to see if the men were contemplating the


letters of guilt he felt burned into his brow.



At times he regarded the wounded soldiers


in an envious way.  He conceived persons with


torn bodies to be peculiarly happy.  He wished


that he, too, had a wound, a red badge of cour-


age.



The spectral soldier was at his side like a


stalking reproach.  The man's eyes were still


fixed in a stare into the unknown.  His gray,


appalling face had attracted attention in the


crowd, and men, slowing to his dreary pace, were


walking with him.  They were discussing his


plight, questioning him and giving him advice.



91


In a dogged way he repelled them, signing to them


to go on and leave him alone.  The shadows of


his face were deepening and his tight lips seemed


holding in check the moan of great despair.


There could be seen a certain stiffness in the


movements of his body, as if he were taking


infinite care not to arouse the passion of his


wounds.  As he went on, he seemed always look-


ing for a place, like one who goes to choose a


grave.



Something in the gesture of the man as he


waved the bloody and pitying soldiers away


made the youth start as if bitten.  He yelled in


horror.  Tottering forward he laid a quivering


hand upon the man's arm.  As the latter slowly


turned his waxlike features toward him, the


youth screamed:



"Gawd!  Jim Conklin!"



The tall soldier made a little commonplace


smile.  "Hello, Henry," he said.



The youth swayed on his legs and glared


strangely.  He stuttered and stammered.  "Oh,


Jim--oh, Jim--oh, Jim--"



The tall soldier held out his gory hand.  There


was a curious red and black combination of new


blood and old blood upon it.  "Where yeh been,


Henry?" he asked.  He continued in a monoto-


nous voice, "I thought mebbe yeh got keeled


over.  There 's been thunder t' pay t'-day.  I was


worryin' about it a good deal."



The youth still lamented.  "Oh, Jim--oh, Jim


--oh, Jim--"



"Yeh know," said the tall soldier, "I was out


there."  He made a careful gesture.  "An',


Lord, what a circus!  An', b'jiminey, I got shot--


I got shot.  Yes, b'jiminey, I got shot."  He


reiterated this fact in a bewildered way, as if he


did not know how it came about.



The youth put forth anxious arms to assist


him, but the tall soldier went firmly on as if pro-


pelled.  Since the youth's arrival as a guardian


for his friend, the other wounded men had ceased


to display much interest.  They occupied them-


selves again in dragging their own tragedies


toward the rear.



Suddenly, as the two friends marched on, the


tall soldier seemed to be overcome by a terror.


His face turned to a semblance of gray paste.


He clutched the youth's arm and looked all about


him, as if dreading to be overheard.  Then he


began to speak in a shaking whisper:



"I tell yeh what I'm 'fraid of, Henry--I 'll tell


yeh what I 'm 'fraid of.  I 'm 'fraid I 'll fall down


--an' then yeh know--them damned artillery


wagons--they like as not 'll run over me.  That 's


what I 'm 'fraid of--"



The youth cried out to him hysterically: "I 'll


take care of yeh, Jim!  I'll take care of yeh!  I


swear t' Gawd I will!"



"Sure--will yeh, Henry?" the tall soldier


beseeched.



"Yes--yes--I tell yeh--I'll take care of yeh,


Jim!" protested the youth.  He could not speak


accurately because of the gulpings in his throat.



But the tall soldier continued to beg in a


lowly way.  He now hung babelike to the


youth's arm.  His eyes rolled in the wildness of


his terror.  "I was allus a good friend t' yeh,


wa'n't I, Henry?  I 've allus been a pretty good


feller, ain't I?  An' it ain't much t' ask, is it?  Jest


t' pull me along outer th' road?  I 'd do it fer you,


Wouldn't I, Henry?"



He paused in piteous anxiety to await his


friend's reply.



The youth had reached an anguish where the


sobs scorched him.  He strove to express his


loyalty, but he could only make fantastic gestures.



However, the tall soldier seemed suddenly to


forget all those fears.  He became again the


grim, stalking specter of a soldier.  He went


stonily forward.  The youth wished his friend to


lean upon him, but the other always shook his


head and strangely protested.  "No--no--no--


leave me be--leave me be--"



His look was fixed again upon the unknown.


He moved with mysterious purpose, and all of


the youth's offers he brushed aside.  "No--no--


leave me be--leave me be--"



The youth had to follow.



Presently the latter heard a voice talking


softly near his shoulders.  Turning he saw that it


belonged to the tattered soldier.  "Ye 'd better


take 'im outa th' road, pardner.  There 's a batt'ry


comin' helitywhoop down th' road an' he 'll git


runned over.  He 's a goner anyhow in about five


minutes--yeh kin see that.  Ye 'd better take 'im


outa th' road.  Where th' blazes does he git his


stren'th from?"



"Lord knows!" cried the youth.  He was


shaking his hands helplessly.



He ran forward presently and grasped the


tall soldier by the arm.  "Jim!  Jim!" he coaxed,


"come with me."



The tall soldier weakly tried to wrench himself


free.  "Huh," he said vacantly.  He stared at the


youth for a moment.  At last he spoke as if dimly


comprehending.  "Oh!  Inteh th' fields?  Oh!"



He started blindly through the grass.



The youth turned once to look at the lashing


riders and jouncing guns of the battery.  He was


startled from this view by a shrill outcry from


the tattered man.



"Gawd!  He's runnin'!"



Turning his head swiftly, the youth saw his


friend