Chapter 5

There were moments of waiting. The youth thought of the village street at home before the arrival of the circus parade on a day in the spring. He remembered how he had stood, a small, thrillful boy, prepared to follow the dingy lady upon the white horse, or the band in its faded chariot. He saw the yellow road, the lines of expectant people, and the sober houses. He particularly remembered an old fellow who used to sit upon a cracker box in front of the store and feign to despise such exhibitions. A thousand details of color and form surged in his mind. The old fellow upon the cracker box appeared in middle prominence.

There were moments of waiting. The young man thought of the village street at home, before the circus parade arrived one spring day. He remembered standing there as a small, excited boy, ready to follow the shabby lady on the white horse or the band in its faded chariot. He saw the yellow road, the lines of people waiting, and the plain houses. He especially remembered an old man who used to sit on a cracker box outside the store and pretend to despise such shows. A thousand details of color and shape flooded his mind. The old man on the cracker box stood out among them.

Some one cried, “Here they come!”

Someone cried, “Here they come!”

There was rustling and muttering among the men. They displayed a feverish desire to have every possible cartridge ready to their hands. The boxes were pulled around into various positions, and adjusted with great care. It was as if seven hundred new bonnets were being tried on.

The men rustled and muttered. They were desperate to have every possible cartridge ready at hand. They pulled the boxes into different positions and adjusted them with great care. It was as if seven hundred new bonnets were being tried on.

The tall soldier, having prepared his rifle, produced a red handkerchief of some kind. He was engaged in knotting it about his throat with exquisite attention to its position, when the cry was repeated up and down the line in a muffled roar of sound.

After preparing his rifle, the tall soldier pulled out some kind of red handkerchief. He was tying it around his throat, carefully arranging it, when the cry was repeated up and down the line in a muffled roar.

“Here they come! Here they come!” Gun locks clicked.

“Here they come! Here they come!” Gun mechanisms clicked.

Across the smoke-infested fields came a brown swarm of running men who were giving shrill yells. They came on, stooping and swinging their rifles at all angles. A flag, tilted forward, sped near the front.

A brown swarm of men ran across the smoky fields, shouting in high-pitched voices. They charged forward, hunched over and swinging their rifles in every direction. A flag tilted forward as it raced near the front.

As he caught sight of them the youth was momentarily startled by a thought that perhaps his gun was not loaded. He stood trying to rally his faltering intellect so that he might recollect the moment when he had loaded, but he could not.

When the young man saw them, he was briefly startled by the thought that perhaps his gun was not loaded. He stood there, trying to gather his confused thoughts and remember when he had loaded it, but he could not.

A hatless general pulled his dripping horse to a stand near the colonel of the 304th. He shook his fist in the other’s face. “You’ve got to hold ’em back!” he shouted, savagely; “you’ve got to hold ’em back!”

A general without a hat brought his dripping horse to a stop near the colonel of the 304th. He shook his fist in the colonel’s face. “You’ve got to hold them back!” he shouted fiercely. “You’ve got to hold them back!”

In his agitation the colonel began to stammer. “A-all r-right, General, all right, by Gawd! We-we’ll do our—we-we’ll d-d-do-do our best, General.” The general made a passionate gesture and galloped away. The colonel, perchance to relieve his feelings, began to scold like a wet parrot. The youth, turning swiftly to make sure that the rear was unmolested, saw the commander regarding his men in a highly resentful manner, as if he regretted above everything his association with them.

The colonel was so upset that he began to stammer. “A-all r-right, General, all right, by God! We’ll d-do our best, General.” The general made a passionate gesture and galloped away. The colonel began to scold like a wet parrot, perhaps to relieve his feelings. The youth turned quickly to make sure the rear was undisturbed. He saw the commander looking at his men with deep resentment, as if he regretted his association with them above everything else.

The man at the youth’s elbow was mumbling, as if to himself: “Oh, we’re in for it now! oh, we’re in for it now!”

The man beside the young man was mumbling, as if to himself: “Oh, we’re in for it now! Oh, we’re in for it now!”

The captain of the company had been pacing excitedly to and fro in the rear. He coaxed in schoolmistress fashion, as to a congregation of boys with primers. His talk was an endless repetition. “Reserve your fire, boys—don’t shoot till I tell you—save your fire—wait till they get close up—don’t be damned fools—”

The company captain paced excitedly back and forth behind the men. He coaxed them like a schoolteacher addressing a group of boys learning to read. He repeated himself endlessly. “Hold your fire, boys. Don’t shoot until I tell you. Save your fire. Wait until they get close. Don’t be damned fools.”

Perspiration streamed down the youth’s face, which was soiled like that of a weeping urchin. He frequently, with a nervous movement, wiped his eyes with his coat sleeve. His mouth was still a little ways open.

Sweat streamed down the young man’s face, which was dirty like a crying street child’s. He often wiped his eyes with his coat sleeve in a nervous gesture. His mouth was still slightly open.

He got the one glance at the foe-swarming field in front of him, and instantly ceased to debate the question of his piece being loaded. Before he was ready to begin—before he had announced to himself that he was about to fight—he threw the obedient well-balanced rifle into position and fired a first wild shot. Directly he was working at his weapon like an automatic affair.

He caught one glimpse of the field ahead, swarming with enemies, and stopped wondering whether his rifle was loaded. Before he was ready to begin, before he had even told himself he was going to fight, he raised the obedient, well-balanced rifle and fired a wild first shot. Immediately, he began working the rifle like a machine.

He suddenly lost concern for himself, and forgot to look at a menacing fate. He became not a man but a member. He felt that something of which he was a part—a regiment, an army, a cause, or a country—was in crisis. He was welded into a common personality which was dominated by a single desire. For some moments he could not flee no more than a little finger can commit a revolution from a hand.

He suddenly stopped worrying about himself and forgot the threat to his own life. He was no longer just a man, but a member of something larger. He felt that something he belonged to, a regiment, an army, a cause, or a country, was in crisis. He was joined with others into a single whole, driven by one desire. For a few moments, he was no more able to flee than a little finger could rebel against a hand.

If he had thought the regiment was about to be annihilated perhaps he could have amputated himself from it. But its noise gave him assurance. The regiment was like a firework that, once ignited, proceeds superior to circumstances until its blazing vitality fades. It wheezed and banged with a mighty power. He pictured the ground before it as strewn with the discomfited.

If he had thought the regiment was about to be wiped out, perhaps he could have torn himself away from it. But the noise it made reassured him. The regiment was like a firework. Once lit, a firework keeps going despite everything around it, until its blazing energy fades. The regiment wheezed and banged with tremendous power. He pictured the ground before it covered with defeated enemies.

There was a consciousness always of the presence of his comrades about him. He felt the subtle battle brotherhood more potent even than the cause for which they were fighting. It was a mysterious fraternity born of the smoke and danger of death.

He was always aware of his comrades around him. He felt that the quiet bond between them in battle was even stronger than the cause they were fighting for. It was a mysterious brotherhood born of smoke and the danger of death.

He was at a task. He was like a carpenter who has made many boxes, making still another box, only there was furious haste in his movements. He, in his thoughts, was careering off in other places, even as the carpenter who as he works whistles and thinks of his friend or his enemy, his home or a saloon. And these jolted dreams were never perfect to him afterward, but remained a mass of blurred shapes.

He was doing a job. He was like a carpenter who has made many boxes and is making another. But his movements were furiously hurried. His thoughts raced elsewhere, just as a carpenter whistles while working and thinks of his friend or enemy, his home or a saloon. Afterward, he could never recall these jolted dreams clearly. They remained a mass of blurred shapes.

Presently he began to feel the effects of the war atmosphere—a blistering sweat, a sensation that his eyeballs were about to crack like hot stones. A burning roar filled his ears.

Soon he began to feel the effects of the atmosphere of war. He broke into a blistering sweat, and his eyeballs felt as if they might crack like hot stones. A burning roar filled his ears.

Following this came a red rage. He developed the acute exasperation of a pestered animal, a well-meaning cow worried by dogs. He had a mad feeling against his rifle, which could only be used against one life at a time. He wished to rush forward and strangle with his fingers. He craved a power that would enable him to make a world-sweeping gesture and brush all back. His impotency appeared to him, and made his rage into that of a driven beast.

Then came a red rage. He became as intensely frustrated as a harassed animal, a good-natured cow hounded by dogs. He felt a mad anger at his rifle, which could only kill one person at a time. He wanted to rush forward and strangle with his bare hands. He longed for the power to sweep his arm across the world and brush everyone back. He saw how powerless he was, and his rage became that of a cornered beast.

Buried in the smoke of many rifles his anger was directed not so much against the men whom he knew were rushing toward him as against the swirling battle phantoms which were choking him, stuffing their smoke robes down his parched throat. He fought frantically for respite for his senses, for air, as a babe being smothered attacks the deadly blankets.

Buried in smoke from many rifles, he was angry less at the men he knew were rushing toward him. He was angrier at the swirling ghosts of battle choking him, stuffing their smoky robes down his dry throat. He fought frantically for air and relief for his senses, like a smothering baby struggling against deadly blankets.

There was a blare of heated rage mingled with a certain expression of intentness on all faces. Many of the men were making low-toned noises with their mouths, and these subdued cheers, snarls, imprecations, prayers, made a wild, barbaric song that went as an undercurrent of sound, strange and chantlike with the resounding chords of the war march. The man at the youth’s elbow was babbling. In it there was something soft and tender like the monologue of a babe. The tall soldier was swearing in a loud voice. From his lips came a black procession of curious oaths. Of a sudden another broke out in a querulous way like a man who has mislaid his hat. “Well, why don’t they support us? Why don’t they send supports? Do they think—”

Every face showed a blaze of fierce rage and a look of intense focus. Many of the men made low noises. Their quiet cheers, snarls, curses, and prayers formed a wild, savage song. It ran beneath the booming chords of the war march, strange and chantlike. The man beside the young soldier was babbling. There was something soft and tender in his babble, like a baby talking to itself. The tall soldier was swearing loudly. A dark stream of strange oaths poured from his lips. Suddenly, another man began to complain like someone who had lost his hat. “Well, why don’t they support us? Why don’t they send reinforcements? Do they think...”

The youth in his battle sleep heard this as one who dozes hears.

The young man heard this in his battle sleep, as someone dozing hears things.

There was a singular absence of heroic poses. The men bending and surging in their haste and rage were in every impossible attitude. The steel ramrods clanked and clanged with incessant din as the men pounded them furiously into the hot rifle barrels. The flaps of the cartridge boxes were all unfastened, and bobbed idiotically with each movement. The rifles, once loaded, were jerked to the shoulder and fired without apparent aim into the smoke or at one of the blurred and shifting forms which upon the field before the regiment had been growing larger and larger like puppets under a magician’s hand.

There was a striking lack of heroic poses. The men bent and lunged into every imaginable position in their haste and rage. Steel ramrods clanked and clanged without stopping as the men furiously pounded them into the hot rifle barrels. The flaps of the cartridge boxes were all unfastened and bobbed stupidly with every movement. Once loaded, the rifles were jerked to the shoulder and fired without apparent aim into the smoke. The men also fired at blurred, shifting figures in the field before the regiment. The figures had been growing larger and larger, like puppets under a magician’s hand.

The officers, at their intervals, rearward, neglected to stand in picturesque attitudes. They were bobbing to and fro roaring directions and encouragements. The dimensions of their howls were extraordinary. They expended their lungs with prodigal wills. And often they nearly stood upon their heads in their anxiety to observe the enemy on the other side of the tumbling smoke.

The officers, spaced out behind the men, did not strike picturesque poses. They bobbed back and forth, roaring orders and encouragement. Their howls were extraordinarily loud. They shouted with everything their lungs had. Often, they nearly stood on their heads in their eagerness to see the enemy beyond the rolling smoke.

The lieutenant of the youth’s company had encountered a soldier who had fled screaming at the first volley of his comrades. Behind the lines these two were acting a little isolated scene. The man was blubbering and staring with sheeplike eyes at the lieutenant, who had seized him by the collar and was pommeling him. He drove him back into the ranks with many blows. The soldier went mechanically, dully, with his animal-like eyes upon the officer. Perhaps there was to him a divinity expressed in the voice of the other—stern, hard, with no reflection of fear in it. He tried to reload his gun, but his shaking hands prevented. The lieutenant was obliged to assist him.

The lieutenant of the young soldier’s company came upon a soldier who had fled screaming at his comrades’ first volley. Behind the lines, the two acted out a small scene of their own. The man was sobbing and staring at the lieutenant with sheeplike eyes. The lieutenant had grabbed him by the collar and was beating him. He drove the man back into the ranks with repeated blows. The soldier went mechanically, dully, keeping his animal-like eyes on the officer. Perhaps he heard something divine in the lieutenant’s voice. It was stern and hard, with no trace of fear. The soldier tried to reload his gun, but his hands were shaking too much. The lieutenant had to help him.

The men dropped here and there like bundles. The captain of the youth’s company had been killed in an early part of the action. His body lay stretched out in the position of a tired man resting, but upon his face there was an astonished and sorrowful look, as if he thought some friend had done him an ill turn. The babbling man was grazed by a shot that made the blood stream widely down his face. He clapped both hands to his head. “Oh!” he said, and ran. Another grunted suddenly as if he had been struck by a club in the stomach. He sat down and gazed ruefully. In his eyes there was mute, indefinite reproach. Farther up the line a man, standing behind a tree, had had his knee joint splintered by a ball. Immediately he had dropped his rifle and gripped the tree with both arms. And there he remained, clinging desperately and crying for assistance that he might withdraw his hold upon the tree.

The men fell here and there like bundles. The captain of the young soldier’s company had been killed early in the fighting. His body lay stretched out like a tired man at rest. But his face looked astonished and sad, as if he thought a friend had wronged him. A bullet grazed the chattering man, and blood streamed down his face. He clapped both hands to his head. “Oh!” he said, and ran. Another man suddenly grunted, as if someone had struck him in the stomach with a club. He sat down and stared in dismay. His eyes held a silent, unfocused reproach. Farther up the line, a bullet had shattered the knee of a man standing behind a tree. He immediately dropped his rifle and wrapped both arms around the tree. He stayed there, clinging desperately and crying for help so he could let go.

At last an exultant yell went along the quivering line. The firing dwindled from an uproar to a last vindictive popping. As the smoke slowly eddied away, the youth saw that the charge had been repulsed. The enemy were scattered into reluctant groups. He saw a man climb to the top of the fence, straddle the rail, and fire a parting shot. The waves had receded, leaving bits of dark débris upon the ground.

At last, a triumphant yell spread along the trembling line. The roar of gunfire faded to a few final, spiteful shots. As the smoke slowly drifted away, the youth saw that the charge had been driven back. The enemy had scattered into reluctant groups. He saw a man climb to the top of the fence, straddle the rail, and fire one last shot. The waves had receded, leaving bits of dark debris on the ground.

Some in the regiment began to whoop frenziedly. Many were silent. Apparently they were trying to contemplate themselves.

Some in the regiment began shouting wildly. Many were silent. They seemed to be trying to reflect on themselves.

After the fever had left his veins, the youth thought that at last he was going to suffocate. He became aware of the foul atmosphere in which he had been struggling. He was grimy and dripping like a laborer in a foundry. He grasped his canteen and took a long swallow of the warmed water.

After the fever left his veins, the young man thought he was finally going to suffocate. He became aware of the foul air he had been struggling in. He was dirty and dripping with sweat like a foundry worker. He grabbed his canteen and took a long drink of the warm water.

A sentence with variations went up and down the line. “Well, we’ve helt ’em back. We’ve helt ’em back; derned if we haven’t.” The men said it blissfully, leering at each other with dirty smiles.

The same words, with some variations, spread up and down the line. “Well, we’ve held them back. We’ve held them back, darned if we haven’t.” The men spoke blissfully, grinning at each other with dirty smiles.

The youth turned to look behind him and off to the right and off to the left. He experienced the joy of a man who at last finds leisure in which to look about him.

The young man turned to look behind him, then to his right and left. He felt the joy of a man who finally has time to look around.

Under foot there were a few ghastly forms motionless. They lay twisted in fantastic contortions. Arms were bent and heads were turned in incredible ways. It seemed that the dead men must have fallen from some great height to get into such positions. They looked to be dumped out upon the ground from the sky.

A few ghastly bodies lay motionless underfoot. They were twisted into strange positions, with arms bent and heads turned in unbelievable ways. The dead men seemed to have fallen from a great height to land like that. They looked as if they had been dumped onto the ground from the sky.

From a position in the rear of the grove a battery was throwing shells over it. The flash of the guns startled the youth at first. He thought they were aimed directly at him. Through the trees he watched the black figures of the gunners as they worked swiftly and intently. Their labor seemed a complicated thing. He wondered how they could remember its formula in the midst of confusion.

From a position behind the grove, a battery of guns was firing shells over the trees. The flashes from the guns startled the young man at first. He thought the guns were aimed directly at him. Through the trees, he watched the dark figures of the gunners as they worked quickly and intently. Their work seemed complicated. He wondered how they could remember the procedure amid the confusion.

The guns squatted in a row like savage chiefs. They argued with abrupt violence. It was a grim pow-wow. Their busy servants ran hither and thither.

The guns crouched in a row like fierce chiefs. They argued in sudden, violent bursts. It was a grim powwow. Their busy crews ran back and forth.

A small procession of wounded men were going drearily toward the rear. It was a flow of blood from the torn body of the brigade.

A small group of wounded men moved sadly toward the rear. They were a flow of blood from the brigade's torn body.

To the right and to the left were the dark lines of other troops. Far in front he thought he could see lighter masses protruding in points from the forest. They were suggestive of unnumbered thousands.

Dark lines of other troops stood to his right and left. Far ahead, he thought he could see lighter masses jutting out from the forest in points. They suggested countless thousands.

Once he saw a tiny battery go dashing along the line of the horizon. The tiny riders were beating the tiny horses.

Once he saw a tiny artillery battery racing along the horizon. The tiny riders were beating the tiny horses.

From a sloping hill came the sound of cheerings and clashes. Smoke welled slowly through the leaves.

From a sloping hill came the sounds of cheering and clashing. Smoke slowly drifted through the leaves.

Batteries were speaking with thunderous oratorical effort. Here and there were flags, the red in the stripes dominating. They splashed bits of warm color upon the dark lines of troops.

Artillery batteries spoke with thunderous force. Here and there, flags appeared, their red stripes standing out. They splashed bits of warm color against the dark lines of troops.

The youth felt the old thrill at the sight of the emblems. They were like beautiful birds strangely undaunted in a storm.

The young man felt the old thrill when he saw the emblems. They were like beautiful birds, strangely unafraid in a storm.

As he listened to the din from the hillside, to a deep pulsating thunder that came from afar to the left, and to the lesser clamors which came from many directions, it occurred to him that they were fighting, too, over there, and over there, and over there. Heretofore he had supposed that all the battle was directly under his nose.

He listened to the noise from the hillside and the deep, pulsing thunder far to the left. He heard quieter sounds of fighting coming from many directions. It occurred to him that they were fighting over there, and over there, and over there, too. Until then, he had thought the whole battle was happening right under his nose.

As he gazed around him the youth felt a flash of astonishment at the blue, pure sky and the sun gleamings on the trees and fields. It was surprising that Nature had gone tranquilly on with her golden process in the midst of so much devilment.

As the young man looked around, he was struck by the pure blue sky and the sunlight on the trees and fields. He was surprised that Nature calmly continued her golden work amid so much evil.