Software Vault: The Gold Collection/Software Vault - The Gold Collection (American Databankers) (1993).ISO/cdr11/redbadge.zip/FILE3.TXT

Text File | 1993-06-14 | 19KB | 304 lines

                              CHAPTER THREE

          When another night came the columns, changed to purple
     streaks, filed across two pontoon 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 camping 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 regiment lost many
     of the marks of a new command.
          The men had begun to count the miles upon their fingers,
     and they grew tired. "Sore feet and damned short rations, that's
     all," said the loud soldier. There were perspiration and
     grumblings. 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 veteran-like 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, fellows, 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
     God!"
          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 habitually 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 demonstration.
          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 canteen 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 sentences: "Say---
     what's all this---about?" "What the thunder---we skedaddling this
     way for?" "Billie---keep off my feet. You run---like a cow." And
     the loud soldier's shrill voice could be heard: "What the devil
     they in such 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 comrades 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 obstructions. 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 impossible for him to
     escape from the regiment. It inclosed him. And there were iron
     laws of tradition 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 curiosity. 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 sun-truck 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 continually 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
     battlefield.
          The skirmishers in advance fascinated him. Their shots into
     thickets and at distant and prominent trees spoke to him of
     tragedies---hidden, 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 himself. 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 sensations.
          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. Iron-like brigades would appear
     in the rear. They were all going to be sacrificed. The generals
     were stupids. The enemy would presently swallow the whole
     command. 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
     come 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
     interest, as if they were investigating something that fascinated
     them. One or two stepped with over-valiant 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 warning. 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 responsibilities. He lagged, with
     tragic glances at the sky.
          He was surprised presently by the young lieutenant 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 will do here." He mended 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 skirmishers 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
     comparatively large ones, while others seemed content with little
     ones.
          This procedure caused a discussion among the men. Some
     wished to fight like duelists, believing 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 withdraw 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
     entrenchments. 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 became another thing
     in a battle. He saw his salvation in such a change. Hence this
     waiting was an ordeal to him. He was in a fever of impatience. 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 nothing." 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 sandwich of
     cracker and pork and swallowed it in a nonchalant manner. "Oh, I
     suppose we must go reconnoitering around the country just to keep
     them from getting too close, or to develop them, or something."
          "Huh!" cried the loud soldier.
          "Well," cried the youth, still fidgeting, "I'd rather do
     anything almost than go tramping around the country all day doing
     no good to nobody and just tiring ourselves out."
          "So would I," said the loud soldier. "It ain't right. I
     tell you if anybody with any sense was a-running this army it---"
          "Oh, shut up!" roared the tall private. "You little fool.
     You little damned cuss. You ain't had that there coat and them
     pants on for six months, and yet you talk as if---"
          "Well, I want to do some fighting anyway," interrupted the
     other. "I didn't come here to walk. I could've walked to home---
     round and round the barn, if I just 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 sandwiches. During his meals he always wore an
     air of blissful contemplation of the food he had swallowed. His
     spirit seemed then to be communing with the viands.
          He accepted new environment and circumstance with great
     coolness, eating from his haversack at every opportunity. On the
     march he went along with the stride of a hunter, objecting 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 engineering 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 morning. 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 incompetence reassailed him, but this
     time he doggedly 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 nothing but
     rest, and he was filled with a momentary 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 profound and fine senses from such men as the lieutenant. He
     must look to the grave for comprehension.
          The skirmish fire increased to a long clattering sound.
     With it was mingled far-way cheering. 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 spellbound. 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 astonishment.
          "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 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.