CHAPTER FOUR
     
          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 to the hospital. He said he was sick. That
     smart lieutenant is commanding G Company. The boys say they won't
     be under Carrott no more if they all have to desert. They always
     knew he was a---"
          "Hannises' battery is took."
          "It ain't either. I saw Hannises' battery off on the left not
     more than fifteen minutes ago."
          "Well---"
          "The general, he says he is going to take the whole command of
     the 304th when we go into action, and then he says we'll do such
     fighting as never another one regiment done."
          "They say we're catching it over on the left. They say the
     enemy drive our line into a devil of a swamp and took Hannises'
     battery."
          "No such thing. Hannises' battery was along here about a
     minute ago."
          "That young Hasbrouck, he makes a good officer. He ain't
     afraid of nothing."
          "I met one of the 148th Maine boys and he says his brigade
     fought the whole rebel army for four hours over on the turnpike
     road and killed about five thousand of them. He says one more such
     fight as that and the war'll be over."
          "Bill wasn't scared either. No, sir! It wasn't that. Bill
     ain't a-getting scared easy. He was jest mad, that's what he was.
     When that fellow trod on his hand, he up answered that he was
     willing to give his hand to his country, but he be dumbed if he was
     going to have every dumb bushwacker in the country walking around
     on it. So he went to the hospital disregardless of the fight. Three
     fingers was crunched. The darn doctor wanted to amputate them, and 
     Bill, he raised a hell of a row, I hear. He's a funny fellow."
          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 changing 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 wondrously that a nervous laugh went along the
     regimental 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 mob-like 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 horror. "God!
     Saunders's got crushed!" whispered 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 motionless, 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 highwaymen.
          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 had 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 singular 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 conscious 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 flood-like 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.