home
***
CD-ROM
|
disk
|
FTP
|
other
***
search
/
Software Vault: The Gold Collection
/
Software Vault - The Gold Collection (American Databankers) (1993).ISO
/
cdr11
/
redbadge.zip
/
FILE4.TXT
< prev
next >
Wrap
Text File
|
1993-06-14
|
7KB
|
121 lines
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.