The Red Badge of Courage: An Episode of the American Civil War
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, b’Gawd?” 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 th’ 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 an’
played marbles! I never see sech 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 yestirday—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 fightin’ fer people when everything yeh do—no matter what—ain’t done
right. I have a notion t’ stay behind next time an’ let ’em take their
ol’ charge an’ go t’ th’ devil with it.”
The youth spoke soothingly to his comrade. “Well, we both did good. I’d
like to see the fool what’d say we both didn’t do as good as we could!”
“Of course we did,” declared the friend stoutly. “An’ I’d break th’
feller’s neck if he was as big as a church. But we’re all right,
anyhow, for I heard one feller say that we two fit th’ best in th’
reg’ment, an’ they had a great argument ’bout it. Another feller, ’a
course, he had t’ up an’ say it was a lie—he seen all what was goin’ on
an’ he never seen us from th’ beginnin’ t’ th’ end. An’ a lot more
stuck in an’ ses it wasn’t a lie—we did fight like thunder, an’ they
give us quite a sendoff. But this is what I can’t stand—these
everlastin’ ol’ soldiers, titterin’ an’ laughin’, an 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 ’im what—”
He ceased because several men had come hurrying up. Their faces
expressed a bringing of great news.
“O Flem, yeh jest oughta heard!” cried one, eagerly.
“Heard what?” said the youth.
“Yeh jest oughta heard!” repeated the other, and he arranged himself to
tell his tidings. The others made an excited circle. “Well, sir, th’
colonel met your lieutenant right by us—it was damnedest thing I ever
heard—an’ he ses: ‘Ahem! ahem!’ he ses. ‘Mr. Hasbrouck!’ he ses, ‘by
th’ way, who was that lad what carried th’ flag?’ he ses. There,
Flemin’, what d’ yeh think ’a that? ‘Who was th’ lad what carried th’
flag?’ he ses, an’ th’ lieutenant, he speaks up right away: ‘That’s
Flemin’, an’ he’s a jimhickey,’ he ses, right away. What? I say he did.
‘A jimhickey,’ he ses—those ’r his words. He did, too. I say he did. If
you kin tell this story better than I kin, go ahead an’ tell it. Well,
then, keep yer mouth shet. Th’ lieutenant, he ses: ‘He’s a jimhickey,’
and th’ colonel, he ses: ‘Ahem! ahem! he is, indeed, a very good man t’
have, ahem! He kep’ th’ flag ’way t’ th’ front. I saw ’im. He’s a good
un,’ ses th’ colonel. ‘You bet,’ ses th’ lieutenant, ‘he an’ a feller
named Wilson was at th’ head ’a th’ charge, an’ howlin’ like Indians
all th’ time,’ he ses. ‘Head ’a th’ charge all th’ time,’ he ses. ‘A
feller named Wilson,’ he ses. There, Wilson, m’boy, put that in a
letter an’ send it hum t’ yer mother, hay? ‘A feller named Wilson,’ he
ses. An’ th’ colonel, he ses: ‘Were they, indeed? Ahem! ahem! My
sakes!’ he ses. ‘At th’ head ’a th’ reg’ment?’ he ses. ‘They were,’ ses
th’ lieutenant. ‘My sakes!’ ses th’ colonel. He ses: ‘Well, well,
well,’ he ses. ‘They deserve t’ be major-generals.’”
The youth and his friend had said: “Huh!” “Yer lyin’ Thompson.” “Oh, go
t’ blazes!” “He never sed 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.
Chapter XXII.
When the woods again began to pour forth the dark-hued masses of the
enemy the youth felt serene self-confidence. He smiled briefly when he
saw men dodge and duck at the long screechings of shells that were
thrown in giant handfuls over them. He stood, erect and tranquil,
watching the attack begin against a part of the line that made a blue
curve along the side of an adjacent hill. His vision being unmolested
by smoke from the rifles of his companions, he had opportunities to see
parts of the hard fight. It was a relief to perceive at last from
whence came some of these noises which had been roared into his ears.
Off a short way he saw two regiments fighting a little separate battle
with two other regiments. It was in a cleared space, wearing a
set-apart look. They were blazing as if upon a wager, giving and taking
tremendous blows. The firings were incredibly fierce and rapid. These
intent regiments apparently were oblivious of all larger purposes of
war, and were slugging each other as if at a matched game.
In another direction he saw a magnificent brigade going with the
evident intention of driving the enemy from a wood. They passed in out
of sight and presently there was a most awe-inspiring racket in the
wood. The noise was unspeakable. Having stirred this prodigious uproar,
and, apparently, finding it too prodigious, the brigade, after a little
time, came marching airily out again with its fine formation in nowise
disturbed. There were no traces of speed in its movements. The brigade
was jaunty and seemed to point a proud thumb at the yelling wood.
On a slope to the left there was a long row of guns, gruff and
maddened, denouncing the enemy, who, down through the woods, were
forming for another attack in the pitiless monotony of conflicts. The
round red discharges from the guns made a crimson flare and a high,
thick smoke. Occasional glimpses could be caught of groups of the
toiling artillerymen. In the rear of this row of guns stood a house,
calm and white, amid bursting shells. A congregation of horses, tied to
a long railing, were tugging frenziedly at their bridles. Men were
running hither and thither.
The detached battle between the four regiments lasted for some time.
There chanced to be no interference, and they settled their dispute by
themselves. They struck savagely and powerfully at each other for a
period of minutes, and then the lighter-hued regiments faltered and
drew back, leaving the dark-blue lines shouting. The youth could see
the two flags shaking with laughter amid the smoke remnants.
Presently there was a stillness, pregnant with meaning. The blue lines
shifted and changed a trifle and stared expectantly at the silent woods
and fields before them. The hush was solemn and churchlike, save for a
distant battery that, evidently unable to remain quiet, sent a faint
rolling thunder over the ground. It irritated, like the noises of
unimpressed boys. The men imagined that it would prevent their perched
ears from hearing the first words of the new battle.
Of a sudden the guns on the slope roared out a message of warning. A
spluttering sound had begun in the woods. It swelled with amazing speed
to a profound clamor that involved the earth in noises. The splitting
crashes swept along the lines until an interminable roar was developed.
To those in the midst of it it became a din fitted to the universe. It
was the whirring and thumping of gigantic machinery, complications
among the smaller stars. The youth’s ears were filled cups. They were
incapable of hearing more.
On an incline over which a road wound he saw wild and desperate rushes
of men perpetually backward and forward in riotous surges. These parts
of the opposing armies were two long waves that pitched upon each other
madly at dictated points. To and fro they swelled. Sometimes, one side