The Red Badge of Courage

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The corporal went away. The youth re-
mained on the ground like a parcel. He stared
with a vacant look into the fire.

After a time he aroused, for some part, and
the things about him began to take form. He
saw that the ground in the deep shadows was
cluttered with men, sprawling in every con-
ceivable posture. Glancing narrowly into the
more distant darkness, he caught occasional
glimpses of visages that loomed pallid and
ghostly, lit with a phosphorescent glow. These
faces expressed in their lines the deep stupor of
the tired soldiers. They made them appear like
men drunk with wine. This bit of forest might
have appeared to an ethereal wanderer as a scene
of the result of some frightful debauch.

On the other side of the fire the youth
observed an officer asleep, seated bolt upright,
with his back against a tree. There was some-
thing perilous in his position. Badgered by
dreams, perhaps, he swayed with little bounces
and starts, like an old toddy-stricken grandfather
in a chimney corner. Dust and stains were upon
his face. His lower jaw hung down as if lacking
strength to assume its normal position. He was
the picture of an exhausted soldier after a feast of
war.

He had evidently gone to sleep with his
sword in his arms. These two had slumbered in
an embrace, but the weapon had been allowed
in time to fall unheeded to the ground. The
brass-mounted hilt lay in contact with some parts
of the fire.

Within the gleam of rose and orange light
from the burning sticks were other soldiers,
snoring and heaving, or lying deathlike in
slumber. A few pairs of legs were stuck forth,
rigid and straight. The shoes displayed the mud
or dust of marches and bits of rounded trousers,
protruding from the blankets, showed rents and
tears from hurried pitchings through the dense
brambles.

The fire crackled musically. From it swelled
light smoke. Overhead the foliage moved
softly. The leaves, with their faces turned
toward the blaze, were colored shifting hues of
silver, often edged with red. Far off to the right,
through a window in the forest could be seen a
handful of stars lying, like glittering pebbles, on
the black level of the night.

Occasionally, in this low-arched hall, a soldier
would arouse and turn his body to a new posi-
tion, the experience of his sleep having taught
him of uneven and objectionable places upon the
ground under him. Or, perhaps, he would lift
himself to a sitting posture, blink at the fire for
an unintelligent moment, throw a swift glance at
his prostrate companion, and then cuddle down
again with a grunt of sleepy content.

The youth sat in a forlorn heap until his
friend the loud young soldier came, swinging two
canteens by their light strings. "Well, now,
Henry, ol' boy," said the latter, "we'll have yeh
fixed up in jest about a minnit."

He had the bustling ways of an amateur
nurse. He fussed around the fire and stirred the
sticks to brilliant exertions. He made his patient
drink largely from the canteen that contained the
coffee. It was to the youth a delicious draught.
He tilted his head afar back and held the canteen
long to his lips. The cool mixture went caress-
ingly down his blistered throat. Having finished,
he sighed with comfortable delight.

The loud young soldier watched his comrade
with an air of satisfaction. He later produced
an extensive handkerchief from his pocket. He
folded it into a manner of bandage and soused
water from the other canteen upon the middle of
it. This crude arrangement he bound over the
youth's head, tying the ends in a queer knot at
the back of the neck.

"There," he said, moving off and surveying
his deed, "yeh look like th' devil, but I bet yeh
feel better."

The youth contemplated his friend with grate-
ful eyes. Upon his aching and swelling head the
cold cloth was like a tender woman's hand.

"Yeh don't holler ner say nothin'," remarked
his friend approvingly. "I know I'm a black-
smith at takin' keer 'a sick folks, an' yeh never
squeaked. Yer a good un, Henry. Most 'a men
would a' been in th' hospital long ago. A shot in
th' head ain't foolin' business."

The youth made no reply, but began to fumble
with the buttons of his jacket.

"Well, come, now," continued his friend,
"come on. I must put yeh t' bed an' see that yeh
git a good night's rest."

The other got carefully erect, and the loud
young soldier led him among the sleeping forms
lying in groups and rows. Presently he stooped
and picked up his blankets. He spread the rubber
one upon the ground and placed the woolen one
about the youth's shoulders.

"There now," he said, "lie down an' git some
sleep."

The youth, with his manner of doglike obe-
dience, got carefully down like a crone stoop-
ing. He stretched out with a murmur of relief
and comfort. The ground felt like the softest
couch.

But of a sudden he ejaculated: "Hol' on a
minnit! Where you goin' t' sleep?"

His friend waved his hand impatiently.
"Right down there by yeh."

"Well, but hol' on a minnit," continued the
youth. "What yeh goin' t' sleep in? I've got
your--"

The loud young soldier snarled: "Shet up
an' go on t' sleep. Don't be makin' a damn' fool
'a yerself," he said severely.

After the reproof the youth said no more.
An exquisite drowsiness had spread through him.
The warm comfort of the blanket enveloped him
and made a gentle languor. His head fell for-
ward on his crooked arm and his weighted lids
went softly down over his eyes. Hearing a
splatter of musketry from the distance, he
wondered indifferently if those men sometimes
slept. He gave a long sigh, snuggled down into
his blanket, and in a moment was like his com-
rades.

CHAPTER XIV.

WHEN the youth awoke it seemed to him that
he had been asleep for a thousand years, and he
felt sure that he opened his eyes upon an unex-
pected world. Gray mists were slowly shifting
before the first efforts of the sun rays. An im-
pending splendor could be seen in the eastern
sky. An icy dew had chilled his face, and im-
mediately upon arousing he curled farther down
into his blanket. He stared for a while at the
leaves overhead, moving in a heraldic wind of
the day.

The distance was splintering and blaring with
the noise of fighting. There was in the sound
an expression of a deadly persistency, as if it had
not begun and was not to cease.

About him were the rows and groups of men
that he had dimly seen the previous night. They
were getting a last draught of sleep before the
awakening. The gaunt, careworn features and
dusty figures were made plain by this quaint

139
light at the dawning, but it dressed the skin of
the men in corpselike hues and made the tangled
limbs appear pulseless and dead. The youth
started up with a little cry when his eyes first
swept over this motionless mass of men, thick-
spread upon the ground, pallid, and in strange
postures. His disordered mind interpreted the
hall of the forest as a charnel place. He believed
for an instant that he was in the house of the
dead, and he did not dare to move lest these
corpses start up, squalling and squawking. In a
second, however, he achieved his proper mind.
He swore a complicated oath at himself. He
saw that this somber picture was not a fact of
the present, but a mere prophecy.

He heard then the noise of a fire crackling
briskly in the cold air, and, turning his head, he
saw his friend pottering busily about a small
blaze. A few other figures moved in the fog, and
he heard the hard cracking of axe blows.

Suddenly there was a hollow rumble of
drums. A distant bugle sang faintly. Similar
sounds, varying in strength, came from near and
far over the forest. The bugles called to each
other like brazen gamecocks. The near thunder
of the regimental drums rolled.

The body of men in the woods rustled. There
was a general uplifting of heads. A murmuring
of voices broke upon the air. In it there was
much bass of grumbling oaths. Strange gods
were addressed in condemnation of the early
hours necessary to correct war. An officer's
peremptory tenor rang out and quickened the
stiffened movement of the men. The tangled
limbs unraveled. The corpse-hued faces were
hidden behind fists that twisted slowly in the eye
sockets.

The youth sat up and gave vent to an enormous
yawn. "Thunder!" he remarked petulantly.
He rubbed his eyes, and then putting up his hand
felt carefully of the bandage over his wound.
His friend, perceiving him to be awake, came
from the fire. "Well, Henry, ol' man, how do
yeh feel this mornin'?" he demanded.

The youth yawned again. Then he puckered
his mouth to a little pucker. His head, in truth,
felt precisely like a melon, and there was an un-
pleasant sensation at his stomach.

"Oh, Lord, I feel pretty bad," he said.

"Thunder!" exclaimed the other. "I hoped
ye'd feel all right this mornin'. Let's see th'
bandage--I guess it's slipped." He began to
tinker at the wound in rather a clumsy way until
the youth exploded.

"Gosh-dern it!" he said in sharp irritation;
"you're the hangdest man I ever saw! You
wear muffs on your hands. Why in good
thunderation can't you be more easy? I'd rather
you'd stand off an' throw guns at it. Now, go
slow, an' don't act as if you was nailing down
carpet."

He glared with insolent command at his
friend, but the latter answered soothingly.
"Well, well, come now, an' git some grub," he
said. "Then, maybe, yeh'll feel better."

At the fireside the loud young soldier
watched over his comrade's wants with tender-
ness and care. He was very busy marshaling
the little black vagabonds of tin cups and pour-
ing into them the streaming, iron colored mixture
from a small and sooty tin pail. He had some
fresh meat, which he roasted hurriedly upon a
stick. He sat down then and contemplated the
youth's appetite with glee.

The youth took note of a remarkable change
in his comrade since those days of camp life upon
the river bank. He seemed no more to be con-
tinually regarding the proportions of his personal
prowess. He was not furious at small words that
pricked his conceits. He was no more a loud
young soldier. There was about him now a
fine reliance. He showed a quiet belief in
his purposes and his abilities. And this in-
ward confidence evidently enabled him to be
indifferent to little words of other men aimed
at him.

The youth reflected. He had been used to
regarding his comrade as a blatant child with an
audacity grown from his inexperience, thought-
less, headstrong, jealous, and filled with a tinsel
courage. A swaggering babe accustomed to strut
in his own dooryard. The youth wondered
where had been born these new eyes; when his
comrade had made the great discovery that
there were many men who would refuse to be
subjected by him. Apparently, the other had
now climbed a peak of wisdom from which he
could perceive himself as a very wee thing. And
the youth saw that ever after it would be easier
to live in his friend's neighborhood.

His comrade balanced his ebony coffee-cup on
his knee. "Well, Henry," he said, "what d'yeh
think th' chances are? D'yeh think we'll wal-
lop 'em?"

The youth considered for a moment. "Day-
b'fore-yesterday," he finally replied, with boldness,
"you would 'a' bet you'd lick the hull kit-an'-
boodle all by yourself."

His friend looked a trifle amazed. "Would
I?" he asked. He pondered. "Well, perhaps I
would," he decided at last. He stared humbly at
the fire.

The youth was quite disconcerted at this sur-
prising reception of his remarks. "Oh, no, you
wouldn't either," he said, hastily trying to re-
trace.

But the other made a deprecating gesture.
"Oh, yeh needn't mind, Henry," he said. "I be-
lieve I was a pretty big fool in those days." He
spoke as after a lapse of years.

There was a little pause.

"All th' officers say we've got th' rebs in
a pretty tight box," said the friend, clearing
his throat in a commonplace way. "They all
seem t' think we've got 'em jest where we
want 'em."

"I don't know about that," the youth replied.
"What I seen over on th' right makes me think
it was th' other way about. From where I was,
it looked as if we was gettin' a good poundin'
yestirday."

"D'yeh think so?" inquired the friend. "I
thought we handled 'em pretty rough yestir-
day."

"Not a bit," said the youth. "Why, lord,
man, you didn't see nothing of the fight. Why!"
Then a sudden thought came to him. "Oh!
Jim Conklin's dead."

His friend started. "What? Is he? Jim
Conklin?"

The youth spoke slowly. "Yes. He's dead.
Shot in th' side."

"Yeh don't say so. Jim Conklin. . . . poor
cuss!"

All about them were other small fires sur-
rounded by men with their little black utensils.
From one of these near came sudden sharp
voices in a row. It appeared that two light-
footed soldiers had been teasing a huge, bearded
man, causing him to spill coffee upon his blue
knees. The man had gone into a rage and had
sworn comprehensively. Stung by his language,
his tormentors had immediately bristled at him
with a great show of resenting unjust oaths.
Possibly there was going to be a fight.

The friend arose and went over to them, mak-
ing pacific motions with his arms. "Oh, here,
now, boys, what's th' use?" he said. "We'll
be at th' rebs in less'n an hour. What's th'
good fightin' 'mong ourselves?"

One of the light-footed soldiers turned upon
him red-faced and violent. "Yeh needn't come
around here with yer preachin'. I s'pose yeh
don't approve 'a fightin' since Charley Morgan
licked yeh; but I don't see what business this
here is 'a yours or anybody else."

"Well, it ain't," said the friend mildly. "Still
I hate t' see--"

There was a tangled argument.

"Well, he--," said the two, indicating their
opponent with accusative forefingers.

The huge soldier was quite purple with rage.
He pointed at the two soldiers with his great
hand, extended clawlike. "Well, they--"

But during this argumentative time the de-
sire to deal blows seemed to pass, although they
said much to each other. Finally the friend re-
turned to his old seat. In a short while the
three antagonists could be seen together in an
amiable bunch.

"Jimmie Rogers ses I'll have t' fight him
after th' battle t'-day," announced the friend as
he again seated himself. "He ses he don't
allow no interferin' in his business. I hate t' see
th' boys fightin' 'mong themselves."

The youth laughed. "Yer changed a good
bit. Yeh ain't at all like yeh was. I remember
when you an' that Irish feller--" He stopped
and laughed again.

"No, I didn't use t' be that way," said his
friend thoughtfully. "That's true 'nough."

"Well, I didn't mean--" began the youth.

The friend made another deprecatory gesture.
"Oh, yeh needn't mind, Henry."

There was another little pause.

"Th' reg'ment lost over half th' men yestir-
day," remarked the friend eventually. "I thought
a course they was all dead, but, laws, they kep'
a-comin' back last night until it seems, after all,
we didn't lose but a few. They'd been scattered
all over, wanderin' around in th' woods, fightin'
with other reg'ments, an' everything. Jest like
you done."

"So?" said the youth.

CHAPTER XV.

THE regiment was standing at order arms at
the side of a lane, waiting for the command to
march, when suddenly the youth remembered
the little packet enwrapped in a faded yellow
envelope which the loud young soldier with lugu-
brious words had intrusted to him. It made him
start. He uttered an exclamation and turned
toward his comrade.

"Wilson!"

"What?"

His friend, at his side in the ranks, was thought-
fully staring down the road. From some cause
his expression was at that moment very meek.
The youth, regarding him with sidelong glances,
felt impelled to change his purpose. "Oh, noth-
ing," he said.

His friend turned his head in some surprise,
"Why, what was yeh goin' t' say?"

"Oh, nothing," repeated the youth.

He resolved not to deal the little blow. It

148
was sufficient that the fact made him glad. It
was not necessary to knock his friend on the head
with the misguided packet.

He had been possessed of much fear of his
friend, for he saw how easily questionings could
make holes in his feelings. Lately, he had as-
sured himself that the altered comrade would not
tantalize him with a persistent curiosity, but he
felt certain that during the first period of leisure
his friend would ask him to relate his adventures
of the previous day.

He now rejoiced in the possession of a small
weapon with which he could prostrate his com-
rade at the first signs of a cross-examination. He
was master. It would now be he who could
laugh and shoot the shafts of derision.

The friend had, in a weak hour, spoken with
sobs of his own death. He had delivered a mel-
ancholy oration previous to his funeral, and had
doubtless in the packet of letters, presented vari-
ous keepsakes to relatives. But he had not died,
and thus he had delivered himself into the hands
of the youth.

The latter felt immensely superior to his
friend, but he inclined to condescension. He
adopted toward him an air of patronizing good
humor.

His self-pride was now entirely restored. In
the shade of its flourishing growth he stood with
braced and self-confident legs, and since nothing
could now be discovered he did not shrink from
an encounter with the eyes of judges, and allowed
no thoughts of his own to keep him from an
attitude of manfulness. He had performed his
mistakes in the dark, so he was still a man.

Indeed, when he remembered his fortunes of
yesterday, and looked at them from a distance he
began to see something fine there. He had
license to be pompous and veteranlike.

His panting agonies of the past he put out of
his sight.

In the present, he declared to himself that it
was only the doomed and the damned who roared
with sincerity at circumstance. Few but they
ever did it. A man with a full stomach and the
respect of his fellows had no business to scold
about anything that he might think to be wrong
in the ways of the universe, or even with the
ways of society. Let the unfortunates rail; the
others may play marbles.

He did not give a great deal of thought to
these battles that lay directly before him. It was
not essential that he should plan his ways in
regard to them. He had been taught that many
obligations of a life were easily avoided. The
lessons of yesterday had been that retribution
was a laggard and blind. With these facts before
him he did not deem it necessary that he should
become feverish over the possibilities of the
ensuing twenty-four hours. He could leave
much to chance. Besides, a faith in himself had
secretly blossomed. There was a little flower of
confidence growing within him. He was now a
man of experience. He had been out among the
dragons, he said, and he assured himself that they
were not so hideous as he had imagined them.
Also, they were inaccurate; they did not sting
with precision. A stout heart often defied, and
defying, escaped.

And, furthermore, how could they kill him
who was the chosen of gods and doomed to
greatness?

He remembered how some of the men had
run from the battle. As he recalled their terror-
struck faces he felt a scorn for them. They had
surely been more fleet and more wild than was
absolutely necessary. They were weak mortals.
As for himself, he had fled with discretion and
dignity.

He was aroused from this reverie by his
friend, who, having hitched about nervously and
blinked at the trees for a time, suddenly coughed
in an introductory way, and spoke.

"Fleming!"

"What?"

The friend put his hand up to his mouth and
coughed again. He fidgeted in his jacket.

"Well," he gulped, at last, "I guess yeh might
as well give me back them letters." Dark, prick-
ling blood had flushed into his cheeks and brow.

"All right, Wilson," said the youth. He
loosened two buttons of his coat, thrust in his
hand, and brought forth the packet. As he ex-
tended it to his friend the latter's face was turned
from him.

He had been slow in the act of producing the
packet because during it he had been trying to
invent a remarkable comment upon the affair.
He could conjure nothing of sufficient point. He
was compelled to allow his friend to escape
unmolested with his packet. And for this he
took unto himself considerable credit. It was a
generous thing.

His friend at his side seemed suffering great
shame. As he contemplated him, the youth felt
his heart grow more strong and stout. He had
never been compelled to blush in such manner
for his acts; he was an individual of extraordi-
nary virtues.

He reflected, with condescending pity: "Too
bad! Too bad! The poor devil, it makes him
feel tough!"

After this incident, and as he reviewed the
battle pictures he had seen, he felt quite com-
petent to return home and make the hearts of
the people glow with stories of war. He could
see himself in a room of warm tints telling tales
to listeners. He could exhibit laurels. They
were insignificant; still, in a district where
laurels were infrequent, they might shine.

He saw his gaping audience picturing him as
the central figure in blazing scenes. And he
imagined the consternation and the ejaculations
of his mother and the young lady at the seminary
as they drank his recitals. Their vague feminine
formula for beloved ones doing brave deeds on
the field of battle without risk of life would be
destroyed.

CHAPTER XVI.

A SPUTTERING of musketry was always to be
heard. Later, the cannon had entered the dis-
pute. In the fog-filled air their voices made a
thudding sound. The reverberations were con-
tinued. This part of the world led a strange,
battleful existence.

The youth's regiment was marched to relieve
a command that had lain long in some damp
trenches. The men took positions behind a curv-
ing line of rifle pits that had been turned up, like
a large furrow, along the line of woods. Before
them was a level stretch, peopled with short,
deformed stumps. From the woods beyond
came the dull popping of the skirmishers and
pickets, firing in the fog. From the right came
the noise of a terrific fracas.

The men cuddled behind the small embank-
ment and sat in easy attitudes awaiting their
turn. Many had their backs to the firing. The
youth's friend lay down, buried his face in his

154
arms, and almost instantly, it seemed, he was in a
deep sleep.

The youth leaned his breast against the
brown dirt and peered over at the woods and up
and down the line. Curtains of trees interfered
with his ways of vision. He could see the low
line of trenches but for a short distance. A few
idle flags were perched on the dirt hills. Behind
them were rows of dark bodies with a few heads
sticking curiously over the top.

Always the noise of skirmishers came from
the woods on the front and left, and the din on
the right had grown to frightful proportions.
The guns were roaring without an instant's pause
for breath. It seemed that the cannon had come
from all parts and were engaged in a stupendous
wrangle. It became impossible to make a sen-
tence heard.

The youth wished to launch a joke--a quota-
tion from newspapers. He desired to say, "All
quiet on the Rappahannock," but the guns refused
to permit even a comment upon their uproar.
He never successfully concluded the sentence.
But at last the guns stopped, and among the
men in the rifle pits rumors again flew, like birds,
but they were now for the most part black
creatures who flapped their wings drearily near
to the ground and refused to rise on any wings of
hope. The men's faces grew doleful from the
interpreting of omens. Tales of hesitation and
uncertainty on the part of those high in place and
responsibility came to their ears. Stories of
disaster were borne into their minds with many
proofs. This din of musketry on the right, grow-
ing like a released genie of sound, expressed and
emphasized the army's plight.

The men were disheartened and began to
mutter. They made gestures expressive of the
sentence: "Ah, what more can we do?" And it
could always be seen that they were bewildered
by the alleged news and could not fully compre-
hend a defeat.

Before the gray mists had been totally ob-
literated by the sun rays, the regiment was march-
ing in a spread column that was retiring carefully
through the woods. The disordered, hurrying
lines of the enemy could sometimes be seen down
through the groves and little fields. They were
yelling, shrill and exultant.

At this sight the youth forgot many personal
matters and became greatly enraged. He ex-
ploded in loud sentences. "B'jiminey, we're
generaled by a lot 'a lunkheads."

"More than one feller has said that t'-day,"
observed a man.

His friend, recently aroused, was still very
drowsy. He looked behind him until his mind
took in the meaning of the movement. Then he
sighed. "Oh, well, I s'pose we got licked," he
remarked sadly.

The youth had a thought that it would not be
handsome for him to freely condemn other men.
He made an attempt to restrain himself, but the
words upon his tongue were too bitter. He
presently began a long and intricate denunciation
of the commander of the forces.

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