Software Vault: The Gold Collection/Software Vault - The Gold Collection (American Databankers) (1993).ISO/cdr11/redbadge.zip/FILE21.TXT

Text File | 1993-06-14 | 12KB | 192 lines

                           CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

          Presently they knew that no fighting threatened them. All ways
     seemed once more opened to them. The dusty blue lines of their
     friends were disclosed a short distance away. In the distance there
     were many colossal noises, but in all this part of the field there
     was a sudden stillness.
          They perceived that they were free. The depleted band drew a
     long breath of relief and gathered itself into a bunch to complete
     its trip.
          In this last length of journey the men began to show strange
     emotions. They hurried with nervous fear. Some who had been dark
     and unfaltering in the grimmest moments now could not conceal an
     anxiety that made them frantic. It was perhaps that they dreaded to
     be killed in insignificant ways after the times for proper military
     deaths had passed. Or, perhaps, they thought it would be too
     ironical to get killed at the portals of safety. With backward
     looks of perturbation, they hastened.
          As they approached their own lines there was some sarcasm
     exhibited on the part of a gaunt and bronzed regiment that lay
     resting in the shade of trees. Questions were wafted to them.
          "Where the hell you been?"
          "What you coming back for?"
          "Why didn't you stay there?"
          "Was it warm out there, sonny?"
          "Going home now, boys?"
          One shouted in taunting mimicry: "Oh, mother, come quick and
     look at the soldiers!"
          There was no reply from the bruised and battered regiment,
     save that one man made broadcast challenges to fist fights and the
     red-bearded officer walked rather near and glared in great
     swashbuckler style at a tall captain in the other regiment. But the
     lieutenant suppressed the man who wished to fist fight, and the
     tall captain, flushing at the little fanfare of the red-bearded
     one, was obliged to look intently at some trees.
          The youth's tender flesh was deeply stung by these remarks.
     From under his creased brows he glowered with hate at the mockers.
     He meditated upon a few revenges. Still, many in the regiment hung
     their heads in criminal fashion, so that it came to pass that the
     men trudged with sudden heaviness, as if they bore upon their bent
     shoulders the coffin of their honor. And the youthful lieutenant,
     recollecting himself, began to mutter softly in black curses.
          They turned when they arrived at their old position to regard
     the ground over which they had charged.
          The youth in this contemplation was smitten with a large
     astonishment. He discovered that the distances, as compared with
     the brilliant measurings of his mind, were trivial and ridiculous.
     The stolid trees, where much had taken place, seemed incredibly
     near. The time, too, now that he reflected, he saw to have been
     short. He wondered at the number of emotions and events that had
     been crowded into such little spaces. Elfin thoughts must have
     exaggerated and enlarged everything, he said.
          It seemed, then, that there was bitter justice in the speeches
     of the gaunt and bronzed veterans. He veiled a glance of disdain at
     his fellows who strewed the ground, choking with dust, red from
     perspiration, misty-eyed, disheveled.
          They were gulping at their canteens, fierce to wring every
     mite of water from them, and they polished at their swollen and
     watery features with coat sleeves and bunches of grass.
          However, to the youth there was a considerable joy in musing
     upon his performances during the charge. He had had very little
     time previously in which to appreciate himself so that there was
     now much satisfaction in quietly thinking of his actions. He
     recalled bits of color that in the flurry had stamped themselves
     unawares upon his engaged senses.
          As the regiment lay heaving from its hot exertions the officer
     who had named them as mule drivers came galloping along the line.
     He had lost his cap. His tousled hair streamed wildly, and his face
     was dark with vexation and wrath. His temper was displayed with
     more clearness by the way in which he managed his horse. He jerked
     and wrenched savagely at his bridle, stopping the hard-breathing
     animal with a furious pull near the colonel of the regiment. He
     immediately exploded in reproaches which came unbidden to the ears
     of the men. They were suddenly alert, being always curious about
     black words between officers.
          "Oh, thunder, MacChesnay, what an awful bull you made of this
     thing!" began the officer. He attempted low tones, but his
     indignation caused certain of the men to learn the sense of his
     words. "What an awful mess you made! Good Lord, man, you stopped
     about a hundred feet this side of a very pretty success! If your
     men had gone a hundred feet farther you would have made a great
     charge, but as it is---what a lot of mud-diggers you've got
     anyway!"
          The men, listening with bated breath, now turned their curious
     eyes upon the colonel. They had a ragamuffin interest in this
     affair.
          The colonel was seen to straighten his form and put one hand
     forth in oratorical fashion. He wore an injured air; it was as if
     a deacon had been accused of stealing. The men were wiggling in an
     ecstasy of excitement.
          But of a sudden the colonel's manner changed from that of a
     deacon to that of a Frenchman. He shrugged his shoulders. "Oh,
     well, general, we went as far as we could," he said calmly.
          "As far as you could? Did you, by God?" snorted the other.
     "Well, that wasn't very far, was it?" he added, with a glance of
     cold contempt into the other's eyes. "Not very far, I think. You
     were intended to make a diversion in favor of Whiterside. How well
     you succeeded your own ears can now tell you." He wheeled his horse
     and rode stiffly away.
          The colonel, bidden to hear the jarring noises of an
     engagement in the woods to the left, broke out in vague damnations.
          The lieutenant, who had listened with an air of impotent rage
     to the interview, spoke suddenly in firm and undaunted tones. "I
     don't care what a man is---whether he is a general or what---if he
     says the boys didn't put up a good fight out there he's a damned
     fool."
          "Lieutenant," began the colonel, severely, "this is my own
     affair, and I'll trouble you---"
          The lieutenant made an obedient gesture. "All right, colonel,
     all right," he said. He sat down with an air of being content with
     himself.
          The news that the regiment had been reproached went along the
     line. For a time the men were bewildered by it. "Good thunder!"
     they ejaculated, staring at the vanishing form of the general. They
     conceived it to be a huge mistake.
          Presently, however, they began to believe that in truth their
     efforts had been called light. The youth could see this conviction
     weigh upon the entire regiment until the men were like cuffed and
     cursed animals, but withal rebellious.
          The friend, with a grievance in his eye, went to the youth. "I
     wonder what he does want," he said. "He must think we went out
     there and played marbles! I never seen such a man!"
          The youth developed a tranquil philosophy for these moments of
     irritation. "Oh, well," he rejoined "he probably didn't see nothing
     of it at all and got mad as blazes, and concluded we were a lot of
     sheep, just because we didn't do what he wanted done. It's a pity
     old Grandpa Henderson got killed yesterday---he'd have known that
     we did our best and fought good. It's just our awful luck, that's
     what."
          "I should say so," replied the friend. He seemed to be deeply
     wounded at an injustice. "I should say we did have awful luck!
     There's no fun in fighting' for people when everything you do---no
     matter what---isn't done right. I have a notion to stay behind next
     time and let them take their old charge and go to the devil with
     it."
          The youth spoke soothingly to his comrade. "Well, we both did
     good. I'd like to see the fool what would say we both didn't do as
     good as we could!"
          "Of course we did," declared the friend stoutly. "And I'd
     break the fellow's neck if he was as big as a church. But we're all
     right, anyhow, for I heard one fellow say that we two fought the
     best in the regiment, and they had a great argument about it.
     Another fellow, of course, he had to up and say it was a lie---he
     seen all what was going on and he never seen us from the beginning
     to the end. And a lot more struck in and says it wasn't a lie---we
     did fight like thunder, and they give us quite a send-off. But this
     is what I can't stand---these everlasting old soldiers, tittering
     and laughing, and then that general, he's crazy."
          The youth exclaimed with sudden exasperation: "He's a
     lunkhead! He makes me mad. I wish he'd come along next time. We'd
     show them what---"
          He ceased because several men had come hurrying up. Their
     faces expressed a bringing of great news.
          "O Flem, you just ought a heard!" cried one, eagerly.
          "Heard what?" said the youth.
          "You just ought a heard!" repeated the other, and he arranged
     himself to tell his tidings. The others made an excited circle.
     "Well, sir, the colonel met your lieutenant right by us---it was
     damnedest thing I ever heard---and he says: `Ahem! ahem' he says.
     `Mr. Hasbrouck!' he says, `by the way, who was that lad what
     carried the flag?' he says. There, Fleming, what do you think a
     that? `Who was the lad what carried the flag?' he says, and the
     lieutenant, he speaks up right away: `That's Fleming', and he's a
     jimhickey,' he says right away. What? I say he did: `A jimhickey,'
     he says---those were his words. He did, too. I say he did. If you
     can tell this story better than I can, go ahead and tell it. Well,
     then, keep your mouth shut. The lieutenant, he says: `He's a
     jimhickey,' and the colonel, he says: `Ahem! ahem! He is, indeed,
     a very good man to have, ahem! He kept the flag away to the front.
     I saw him. He's a good one,' says the colonel. `You bet,' says the
     lieutenant, `he and a fellow named Wilson was at the head a the
     charge, and howling like Indians all the time,' he says. `Head a
     the charge all the time,' he says. `A fellow named Wilson,' he
     says. There, Wilson, my boy, put that in a letter and send it home
     to your mother, hey? `A fellow named Wilson,' he says. And the
     colonel, he says: `Were they, indeed? Ahem! ahem! My sakes!' he
     says. `At the head a the regiment?' he ses. `They were,' says the
     lieutenant. `My sakes!' say the colonel. He says: `Well, well,
     well,' he says, `those two babies?' `They were,' says the
     lieutenant. `Well, well,' says the colonel, `they deserve to be
     major generals,' he says. `They deserve to be major generals.'"
          The youth and his friend had said: "Huh!" "Your lying,
     Thompson." "Oh, go to blazes!" "He never said it." "Oh, what a
     lie!" Huh!" But despite these youthful scoffings and
     embarrassments, they knew that their faces were deeply flushing
     from thrills of pleasure. They exchanged a secret glance of joy and
     congratulation.
          They speedily forgot many things. The past held no pictures of
     error and disappointment. They were very happy, and their hearts
     swelled with grateful affection for the colonel and the youthful
     lieutenant.