The Red Badge of Courage

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The youth turned quick eyes upon the field.
He discerned forms begin to swell in masses out
of a distant wood. He again saw the tilted flag
speeding forward.

The shells, which had ceased to trouble the
regiment for a time, came swirling again, and ex-
ploded in the grass or among the leaves of the
trees. They looked to be strange war flowers
bursting into fierce bloom.

The men groaned. The luster faded from
their eyes. Their smudged countenances now
expressed a profound dejection. They moved
their stiffened bodies slowly, and watched in sul-
len mood the frantic approach of the enemy. The
slaves toiling in the temple of this god began to
feel rebellion at his harsh tasks.

They fretted and complained each to each.
"Oh, say, this is too much of a good thing! Why
can't somebody send us supports?"

"We ain't never goin' to stand this second
banging. I didn't come here to fight the hull
damn' rebel army."

There was one who raised a doleful cry. "I
wish Bill Smithers had trod on my hand, in-
steader me treddin' on his'n." The sore joints of
the regiment creaked as it painfully floundered
into position to repulse.

The youth stared. Surely, he thought, this
impossible thing was not about to happen. He
waited as if he expected the enemy to suddenly
stop, apologize, and retire bowing. It was all a
mistake.

But the firing began somewhere on the regi-
mental line and ripped along in both directions.
The level sheets of flame developed great clouds
of smoke that tumbled and tossed in the mild
wind near the ground for a moment, and then
rolled through the ranks as through a gate. The
clouds were tinged an earthlike yellow in the
sunrays and in the shadow were a sorry blue.
The flag was sometimes eaten and lost in this
mass of vapor, but more often it projected, sun-
touched, resplendent.

Into the youth's eyes there came a look that
one can see in the orbs of a jaded horse. His
neck was quivering with nervous weakness and
the muscles of his arms felt numb and bloodless.
His hands, too, seemed large and awkward as if
he was wearing invisible mittens. And there was
a great uncertainty about his knee joints.

The words that comrades had uttered previous
to the firing began to recur to him. "Oh, say,
this is too much of a good thing! What do they
take us for--why don't they send supports? I
didn't come here to fight the hull damned rebel
army."

He began to exaggerate the endurance, the
skill, and the valor of those who were coming.
Himself reeling from exhaustion, he was aston-
ished beyond measure at such persistency. They
must be machines of steel. It was very gloomy
struggling against such affairs, wound up perhaps
to fight until sundown.

He slowly lifted his rifle and catching a
glimpse of the thickspread field he blazed at a
cantering cluster. He stopped then and began
to peer as best he could through the smoke. He
caught changing views of the ground covered
with men who were all running like pursued
imps, and yelling.

To the youth it was an onslaught of redoubt-
able dragons. He became like the man who lost
his legs at the approach of the red and green
monster. He waited in a sort of a horrified,
listening attitude. He seemed to shut his eyes
and wait to be gobbled.

A man near him who up to this time had been
working feverishly at his rifle suddenly stopped
and ran with howls. A lad whose face had borne
an expression of exalted courage, the majesty of
he who dares give his life, was, at an instant,
smitten abject. He blanched like one who has
come to the edge of a cliff at midnight and is sud-
denly made aware. There was a revelation. He,
too, threw down his gun and fled. There was no
shame in his face. He ran like a rabbit.

Others began to scamper away through the
smoke. The youth turned his head, shaken from
his trance by this movement as if the regiment
was leaving him behind. He saw the few fleeting
forms.

He yelled then with fright and swung about.
For a moment, in the great clamor, he was like a
proverbial chicken. He lost the direction of
safety. Destruction threatened him from all
points.

Directly he began to speed toward the rear in
great leaps. His rifle and cap were gone. His
unbuttoned coat bulged in the wind. The flap of
his cartridge box bobbed wildly, and his canteen,
by its slender cord, swung out behind. On his
face was all the horror of those things which he
imagined.

The lieutenant sprang forward bawling. The
youth saw his features wrathfully red, and saw
him make a dab with his sword. His one thought
of the incident was that the lieutenant was a pecul-
iar creature to feel interested in such matters
upon this occasion.

He ran like a blind man. Two or three times
he fell down. Once he knocked his shoulder so
heavily against a tree that he went headlong.

Since he had turned his back upon the fight
his fears had been wondrously magnified. Death
about to thrust him between the shoulder blades
was far more dreadful than death about to smite
him between the eyes. When he thought of it
later, he conceived the impression that it is better
to view the appalling than to be merely within
hearing. The noises of the battle were like
stones; he believed himself liable to be crushed.

As he ran he mingled with others. He
dimly saw men on his right and on his left, and
he heard footsteps behind him. He thought that
all the regiment was fleeing, pursued by these
ominous crashes.

In his flight the sound of these following foot-
steps gave him his one meager relief. He felt
vaguely that death must make a first choice of
the men who were nearest; the initial morsels for
the dragons would be then those who were fol-
lowing him. So he displayed the zeal of an insane
sprinter in his purpose to keep them in the rear.
There was a race.

As he, leading, went across a little field, he
found himself in a region of shells. They hurtled
over his head with long wild screams. As he
listened he imagined them to have rows of cruel
teeth that grinned at him. Once one lit before
him and the livid lightning of the explosion
effectually barred the way in his chosen direc-
tion. He groveled on the ground and then
springing up went careering off through some
bushes.

He experienced a thrill of amazement when
he came within view of a battery in action. The
men there seemed to be in conventional moods,
altogether unaware of the impending annihila-
tion. The battery was disputing with a distant
antagonist and the gunners were wrapped in
admiration of their shooting. They were con-
tinually bending in coaxing postures over the
guns. They seemed to be patting them on the
back and encouraging them with words. The
guns, stolid and undaunted, spoke with dogged
valor.

The precise gunners were coolly enthusiastic.
They lifted their eyes every chance to the smoke-
wreathed hillock from whence the hostile battery
addressed them. The youth pitied them as he
ran. Methodical idiots! Machine-like fools! The
refined joy of planting shells in the midst of the
other battery's formation would appear a little
thing when the infantry came swooping out of
the woods.

The face of a youthful rider, who was jerking
his frantic horse with an abandon of temper
he might display in a placid barnyard, was im-
pressed deeply upon his mind. He knew that
he looked upon a man who would presently be
dead.

Too, he felt a pity for the guns, standing, six
good comrades, in a bold row.

He saw a brigade going to the relief of its pes-
tered fellows. He scrambled upon a wee hill and
watched it sweeping finely, keeping formation in
difficult places. The blue of the line was crusted
with steel color, and the brilliant flags projected.
Officers were shouting.

This sight also filled him with wonder. The
brigade was hurrying briskly to be gulped into
the infernal mouths of the war god. What man-
ner of men were they, anyhow? Ah, it was some
wondrous breed! Or else they didn't compre-
hend--the fools.

A furious order caused commotion in the artil-
lery. An officer on a bounding horse made mani-
acal motions with his arms. The teams went
swinging up from the rear, the guns were whirled
about, and the battery scampered away. The
cannon with their noses poked slantingly at the
ground grunted and grumbled like stout men,
brave but with objections to hurry.

The youth went on, moderating his pace since
he had left the place of noises.

Later he came upon a general of division
seated upon a horse that pricked its ears in
an interested way at the battle. There was a
great gleaming of yellow and patent leather
about the saddle and bridle. The quiet man
astride looked mouse-colored upon such a splen-
did charger.

A jingling staff was galloping hither and
thither. Sometimes the general was surrounded
by horsemen and at other times he was quite
alone. He looked to be much harassed. He had
the appearance of a business man whose market
is swinging up and down.

The youth went slinking around this spot.
He went as near as he dared trying to overhear
words. Perhaps the general, unable to compre-
hend chaos, might call upon him for information.
And he could tell him. He knew all concerning
it. Of a surety the force was in a fix, and any
fool could see that if they did not retreat while
they had opportunity--why--

He felt that he would like to thrash the gen-
eral, or at least approach and tell him in plain
words exactly what he thought him to be. It
was criminal to stay calmly in one spot and make
no effort to stay destruction. He loitered in a
fever of eagerness for the division commander to
apply to him.

As he warily moved about, he heard the gen-
eral call out irritably: "Tompkins, go over an'
see Taylor, an' tell him not t' be in such an all-
fired hurry; tell him t' halt his brigade in th'
edge of th' woods; tell him t' detach a reg'ment
--say I think th' center 'll break if we don't help
it out some; tell him t' hurry up."

A slim youth on a fine chestnut horse caught
these swift words from the mouth of his superior.
He made his horse bound into a gallop almost
from a walk in his haste to go upon his mission.
There was a cloud of dust.

A moment later the youth saw the general
bounce excitedly in his saddle.

"Yes, by heavens, they have!" The officer
leaned forward. His face was aflame with excite-
ment. "Yes, by heavens, they 've held 'im!
They 've held 'im!"

He began to blithely roar at his staff: "We 'll
wallop 'im now. We 'll wallop 'im now. We 've
got 'em sure." He turned suddenly upon an aid:
"Here--you--Jones--quick--ride after Tompkins
--see Taylor--tell him t' go in--everlastingly--
like blazes--anything."

As another officer sped his horse after the first
messenger, the general beamed upon the earth
like a sun. In his eyes was a desire to chant a
paean. He kept repeating, "They 've held 'em,
by heavens!"

His excitement made his horse plunge, and he
merrily kicked and swore at it. He held a little
carnival of joy on horseback.

CHAPTER VII.

THE youth cringed as if discovered in a crime.
By heavens, they had won after all! The im-
becile line had remained and become victors.
He could hear cheering.

He lifted himself upon his toes and looked in
the direction of the fight. A yellow fog lay wal-
lowing on the treetops. From beneath it came
the clatter of musketry. Hoarse cries told of an
advance.

He turned away amazed and angry. He felt
that he had been wronged.

He had fled, he told himself, because annihila-
tion approached. He had done a good part in
saving himself, who was a little piece of the army.
He had considered the time, he said, to be one in
which it was the duty of every little piece to res-
cue itself if possible. Later the officers could fit
the little pieces together again, and make a battle
front. If none of the little pieces were wise enough
to save themselves from the flurry of death at such

75
a time, why, then, where would be the army? It
was all plain that he had proceeded according to
very correct and commendable rules. His ac-
tions had been sagacious things. They had been
full of strategy. They were the work of a mas-
ter's legs.

Thoughts of his comrades came to him. The
brittle blue line had withstood the blows and won.
He grew bitter over it. It seemed that the blind
ignorance and stupidity of those little pieces had
betrayed him. He had been overturned and
crushed by their lack of sense in holding the po-
sition, when intelligent deliberation would have
convinced them that it was impossible. He, the
enlightened man who looks afar in the dark, had
fled because of his superior perceptions and
knowledge. He felt a great anger against his
comrades. He knew it could be proved that
they had been fools.

He wondered what they would remark when
later he appeared in camp. His mind heard
howls of derision. Their density would not en-
able them to understand his sharper point of
view.

He began to pity himself acutely. He was
ill used. He was trodden beneath the feet of an
iron injustice. He had proceeded with wisdom
and from the most righteous motives under
heaven's blue only to be frustrated by hateful
circumstances.

A dull, animal-like rebellion against his fel-
lows, war in the abstract, and fate grew within
him. He shambled along with bowed head, his
brain in a tumult of agony and despair. When
he looked loweringly up, quivering at each
sound, his eyes had the expression of those of
a criminal who thinks his guilt and his pun-
ishment great, and knows that he can find no
words.

He went from the fields into a thick woods, as
if resolved to bury himself. He wished to get
out of hearing of the crackling shots which were
to him like voices.

The ground was cluttered with vines and
bushes, and the trees grew close and spread out
like bouquets. He was obliged to force his way
with much noise. The creepers, catching against
his legs, cried out harshly as their sprays were
torn from the barks of trees. The swishing sap-
lings tried to make known his presence to the
world. He could not conciliate the forest. As
he made his way, it was always calling out prot-
estations. When he separated embraces of trees
and vines the disturbed foliages waved their arms
and turned their face leaves toward him. He
dreaded lest these noisy motions and cries should
bring men to look at him. So he went far, seek-
ing dark and intricate places.

After a time the sound of musketry grew faint
and the cannon boomed in the distance. The sun,
suddenly apparent, blazed among the trees. The
insects were making rhythmical noises. They
seemed to be grinding their teeth in unison. A
woodpecker stuck his impudent head around the
side of a tree. A bird flew on lighthearted wing.

Off was the rumble of death. It seemed now
that Nature had no ears.

This landscape gave him assurance. A fair
field holding life. It was the religion of peace.
It would die if its timid eyes were compelled to
see blood. He conceived Nature to be a woman
with a deep aversion to tragedy.

He threw a pine cone at a jovial squirrel, and
he ran with chattering fear. High in a treetop
he stopped, and, poking his head cautiously from
behind a branch, looked down with an air of trepi-
dation.

The youth felt triumphant at this exhibition.
There was the law, he said. Nature had given
him a sign. The squirrel, immediately upon rec-
ognizing danger, had taken to his legs without
ado. He did not stand stolidly baring his furry
belly to the missile, and die with an upward
glance at the sympathetic heavens. On the con-
trary, he had fled as fast as his legs could carry
him; and he was but an ordinary squirrel, too--
doubtless no philosopher of his race. The youth
wended, feeling that Nature was of his mind.
She re-enforced his argument with proofs that
lived where the sun shone.

Once he found himself almost into a swamp.
He was obliged to walk upon bog tufts and
watch his feet to keep from the oily mire. Paus-
ing at one time to look about him he saw, out at
some black water, a small animal pounce in and
emerge directly with a gleaming fish.

The youth went again into the deep thickets.
The brushed branches made a noise that drowned
the sounds of cannon. He walked on, going from
obscurity into promises of a greater obscurity.

At length he reached a place where the high,
arching boughs made a chapel. He softly pushed
the green doors aside and entered. Pine needles
were a gentle brown carpet. There was a reli-
gious half light.

Near the threshold he stopped, horror-stricken
at the sight of a thing.

He was being looked at by a dead man who
was seated with his back against a columnlike
tree. The corpse was dressed in a uniform that
once had been blue, but was now faded to a mel-
ancholy shade of green. The eyes, staring at the
youth, had changed to the dull hue to be seen on
the side of a dead fish. The mouth was open.
Its red had changed to an appalling yellow.
Over the gray skin of the face ran little ants.
One was trundling some sort of a bundle along
the upper lip.

The youth gave a shriek as he confronted the
thing. He was for moments turned to stone be-
fore it. He remained staring into the liquid-look-
ing eyes. The dead man and the living man ex-
changed a long look. Then the youth cautiously
put one hand behind him and brought it against
a tree. Leaning upon this he retreated, step by
step, with his face still toward the thing. He
feared that if he turned his back the body might
spring up and stealthily pursue him.

The branches, pushing against him, threat-
ened to throw him over upon it. His unguided
feet, too, caught aggravatingly in brambles; and
with it all he received a subtle suggestion to
touch the corpse. As he thought of his hand
upon it he shuddered profoundly.

At last he burst the bonds which had fastened
him to the spot and fled, unheeding the under-
brush. He was pursued by a sight of the black
ants swarming greedily upon the gray face and
venturing horribly near to the eyes.

After a time he paused, and, breathless and
panting, listened. He imagined some strange
voice would come from the dead throat and
squawk after him in horrible menaces.

The trees about the portal of the chapel
moved soughingly in a soft wind. A sad silence
was upon the little guarding edifice.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE trees began softly to sing a hymn of twi-
light. The sun sank until slanted bronze rays
struck the forest. There was a lull in the noises
of insects as if they had bowed their beaks and
were making a devotional pause. There was
silence save for the chanted chorus of the trees.

Then, upon this stillness, there suddenly broke
a tremendous clangor of sounds. A crimson roar
came from the distance.

The youth stopped. He was transfixed by
this terrific medley of all noises. It was as if
worlds were being rended. There was the rip-
ping sound of musketry and the breaking crash
of the artillery.

His mind flew in all directions. He conceived
the two armies to be at each other panther
fashion. He listened for a time. Then he began
to run in the direction of the battle. He saw
that it was an ironical thing for him to be run-
ning thus toward that which he had been at such

82
pains to avoid. But he said, in substance, to him-
self that if the earth and the moon were about to
clash, many persons would doubtless plan to get
upon the roofs to witness the collision.

As he ran, he became aware that the forest
had stopped its music, as if at last becoming
capable of hearing the foreign sounds. The trees
hushed and stood motionless. Everything seemed
to be listening to the crackle and clatter and ear-
shaking thunder. The chorus pealed over the
still earth.

It suddenly occurred to the youth that the
fight in which he had been was, after all, but
perfunctory popping. In the hearing of this
present din he was doubtful if he had seen real
battle scenes. This uproar explained a celes-
tial battle; it was tumbling hordes a-struggle in
the air.

Reflecting, he saw a sort of a humor in the
point of view of himself and his fellows during
the late encounter. They had taken themselves
and the enemy very seriously and had imagined
that they were deciding the war. Individuals
must have supposed that they were cutting the
letters of their names deep into everlasting tablets
of brass, or enshrining their reputations forever in
the hearts of their countrymen, while, as to fact,
the affair would appear in printed reports under a
meek and immaterial title. But he saw that it was
good, else, he said, in battle every one would
surely run save forlorn hopes and their ilk.

He went rapidly on. He wished to come to
the edge of the forest that he might peer out.

As he hastened, there passed through his mind
pictures of stupendous conflicts. His accumulated
thought upon such subjects was used to form
scenes. The noise was as the voice of an eloquent
being, describing.

Sometimes the brambles formed chains and
tried to hold him back. Trees, confronting him,
stretched out their arms and forbade him to pass.
After its previous hostility this new resistance of
the forest filled him with a fine bitterness. It
seemed that Nature could not be quite ready to
kill him.

But he obstinately took roundabout ways, and
presently he was where he could see long gray
walls of vapor where lay battle lines. The voices
of cannon shook him. The musketry sounded in
long irregular surges that played havoc with his
ears. He stood regardant for a moment. His
eyes had an awestruck expression. He gawked
in the direction of the fight.

Presently he proceeded again on his forward
way. The battle was like the grinding of an
immense and terrible machine to him. Its com-
plexities and powers, its grim processes, fascinated
him. He must go close and see it produce
corpses.

He came to a fence and clambered over it.
On the far side, the ground was littered with
clothes and guns. A newspaper, folded up, lay
in the dirt. A dead soldier was stretched with
his face hidden in his arm. Farther off there
was a group of four or five corpses keeping
mournful company. A hot sun had blazed upon
the spot.

In this place the youth felt that he was an
invader. This forgotten part of the battle ground
was owned by the dead men, and he hurried, in
the vague apprehension that one of the swollen
forms would rise and tell him to begone.

He came finally to a road from which he
could see in the distance dark and agitated
bodies of troops, smoke-fringed. In the lane
was a blood-stained crowd streaming to the rear.
The wounded men were cursing, groaning, and
wailing. In the air, always, was a mighty swell
of sound that it seemed could sway the earth.
With the courageous words of the artillery and
the spiteful sentences of the musketry mingled
red cheers. And from this region of noises came
the steady current of the maimed.

One of the wounded men had a shoeful of
blood. He hopped like a schoolboy in a game.
He was laughing hysterically.

One was swearing that he had been shot in the
arm through the commanding general's misman-
agement of the army. One was marching with
an air imitative of some sublime drum major.
Upon his features was an unholy mixture of
merriment and agony. As he marched he sang
a bit of doggerel in a high and quavering voice:

"Sing a song 'a vic'try,
A pocketful 'a bullets,
Five an' twenty dead men
Baked in a--pie."

Parts of the procession limped and staggered to
this tune.

Another had the gray seal of death already
upon his face. His lips were curled in hard lines
and his teeth were clinched. His hands were
bloody from where he had pressed them upon his
wound. He seemed to be awaiting the moment
when he should pitch headlong. He stalked like
the specter of a soldier, his eyes burning with the
power of a stare into the unknown.

There were some who proceeded sullenly, full
of anger at their wounds, and ready to turn upon
anything as an obscure cause.

An officer was carried along by two privates.
He was peevish. "Don't joggle so, Johnson, yeh
fool," he cried. "Think m' leg is made of iron?
If yeh can't carry me decent, put me down an'
let some one else do it."

He bellowed at the tottering crowd who
blocked the quick march of his bearers. "Say,
make way there, can't yeh? Make way, dickens
take it all."

They sulkily parted and went to the road-
sides. As he was carried past they made pert
remarks to him. When he raged in reply and
threatened them, they told him to be damned.

The shoulder of one of the tramping bearers
knocked heavily against the spectral soldier who
was staring into the unknown.

The youth joined this crowd and marched
along with it. The torn bodies expressed the
awful machinery in which the men had been
entangled.

Orderlies and couriers occasionally broke
through the throng in the roadway, scattering
wounded men right and left, galloping on fol-
lowed by howls. The melancholy march was
continually disturbed by the messengers, and
sometimes by bustling batteries that came swing-
ing and thumping down upon them, the officers
shouting orders to clear the way.

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