Chapter 12

The column that had butted stoutly at the obstacles in the roadway was barely out of the youth’s sight before he saw dark waves of men come sweeping out of the woods and down through the fields. He knew at once that the steel fibers had been washed from their hearts. They were bursting from their coats and their equipments as from entanglements. They charged down upon him like terrified buffaloes.

The column had fought hard against the obstacles in the road. It had barely passed out of the young man’s sight when he saw dark waves of men pouring from the woods and down through the fields. He knew at once that their courage had been washed away. They were tearing free of their coats and gear as if they were caught in them. They charged toward him like terrified buffaloes.

Behind them blue smoke curled and clouded above the treetops, and through the thickets he could sometimes see a distant pink glare. The voices of the cannon were clamoring in interminable chorus.

Behind them, blue smoke curled and spread above the treetops. Through the thickets, he could sometimes see a distant pink glow. The cannons roared in a chorus that seemed to never end.

The youth was horrorstricken. He stared in agony and amazement. He forgot that he was engaged in combating the universe. He threw aside his mental pamphlets on the philosophy of the retreated and rules for the guidance of the damned.

The young man was horrified. He stared in agony and amazement. He forgot that he was fighting the universe. He threw aside his mental pamphlets on the philosophy of those who had retreated and the rules for guiding the damned.

The fight was lost. The dragons were coming with invincible strides. The army, helpless in the matted thickets and blinded by the overhanging night, was going to be swallowed. War, the red animal, war, the blood-swollen god, would have bloated fill.

The battle was lost. The dragons were coming with unstoppable strides. The army was helpless in the tangled thickets and blinded by the gathering night. It was going to be swallowed. War, the red animal, war, the blood-swollen god, would gorge itself.

Within him something bade to cry out. He had the impulse to make a rallying speech, to sing a battle hymn, but he could only get his tongue to call into the air: “Why—why—what—what’s th’ matter?”

Something inside him urged him to cry out. He wanted to give a rallying speech or sing a battle hymn. But all he could call out was, “Why, why, what, what’s the matter?”

Soon he was in the midst of them. They were leaping and scampering all about him. Their blanched faces shone in the dusk. They seemed, for the most part, to be very burly men. The youth turned from one to another of them as they galloped along. His incoherent questions were lost. They were heedless of his appeals. They did not seem to see him.

Soon he was among them. They were jumping and scrambling all around him. Their pale faces shone in the dusk. Most of them seemed to be very big, strong men. The young man turned from one to another as they ran. His confused questions went unheard. They paid no attention to his pleas. They did not seem to see him.

They sometimes gabbled insanely. One huge man was asking of the sky: “Say, where de plank road? Where de plank road!” It was as if he had lost a child. He wept in his pain and dismay.

They sometimes babbled wildly. One huge man asked the sky: “Hey, where’s the plank road? Where’s the plank road!” It was as if he had lost a child. He wept in pain and dismay.

Presently, men were running hither and thither in all ways. The artillery booming, forward, rearward, and on the flanks made jumble of ideas of direction. Landmarks had vanished into the gathered gloom. The youth began to imagine that he had got into the center of the tremendous quarrel, and he could perceive no way out of it. From the mouths of the fleeing men came a thousand wild questions, but no one made answers.

Soon, men were running in every direction. Artillery boomed ahead, behind, and on both sides, making it hard to tell which way was which. Landmarks had vanished in the gathering darkness. The youth began to imagine he was at the center of the tremendous battle. He could see no way out. The fleeing men shouted a thousand frantic questions, but no one answered.

The youth, after rushing about and throwing interrogations at the heedless bands of retreating infantry, finally clutched a man by the arm. They swung around face to face.

The young man rushed around, questioning groups of retreating soldiers who paid him no attention. Finally, he grabbed a man by the arm. They swung around to face each other.

“Why—why—” stammered the youth struggling with his balking tongue.

“Why, why,” the young man stammered, struggling to get the words out.

The man screamed: “Let go me! Let go me!” His face was livid and his eyes were rolling uncontrolled. He was heaving and panting. He still grasped his rifle, perhaps having forgotten to release his hold upon it. He tugged frantically, and the youth being compelled to lean forward was dragged several paces.

The man screamed: “Let go of me! Let go of me!” His face was ashen, and his eyes rolled wildly. He was heaving and panting. He still held his rifle, perhaps having forgotten to let it go. He tugged frantically, forcing the youth to lean forward and dragging him several steps.

“Let go me! Let go me!”

“Let go of me! Let go of me!”

“Why—why—” stuttered the youth.

“Why, why,” the young man stuttered.

“Well, then!” bawled the man in a lurid rage. He adroitly and fiercely swung his rifle. It crushed upon the youth’s head. The man ran on.

“Well, then!” the man shouted in a violent rage. He swung his rifle skillfully and fiercely. The rifle crashed into the young man’s head. The man ran on.

The youth’s fingers had turned to paste upon the other’s arm. The energy was smitten from his muscles. He saw the flaming wings of lightning flash before his vision. There was a deafening rumble of thunder within his head.

The young man’s fingers went limp on the other man’s arm. All strength drained from his muscles. He saw flaming wings of lightning flash before his eyes. A deafening rumble of thunder filled his head.

Suddenly his legs seemed to die. He sank writhing to the ground. He tried to arise. In his efforts against the numbing pain he was like a man wrestling with a creature of the air.

Suddenly, his legs seemed to go dead. He sank to the ground, writhing. He tried to get up. As he struggled against the numbing pain, he was like a man wrestling with a creature made of air.

There was a sinister struggle.

There was an ominous struggle.

Sometimes he would achieve a position half erect, battle with the air for a moment, and then fall again, grabbing at the grass. His face was of a clammy pallor. Deep groans were wrenched from him.

Sometimes he managed to rise halfway, flail at the air for a moment, and then fall again, grabbing at the grass. His face was pale and clammy. Deep groans came from him.

At last, with a twisting movement, he got upon his hands and knees, and from thence, like a babe trying to walk, to his feet. Pressing his hands to his temples he went lurching over the grass.

At last, he twisted onto his hands and knees. Then, like a baby trying to walk, he got to his feet. Pressing his hands to his temples, he lurched across the grass.

He fought an intense battle with his body. His dulled senses wished him to swoon and he opposed them stubbornly, his mind portraying unknown dangers and mutilations if he should fall upon the field. He went tall soldier fashion. He imagined secluded spots where he could fall and be unmolested. To search for one he strove against the tide of pain.

He fought a fierce battle with his body. His dulled senses urged him to faint, but he stubbornly resisted. He imagined unknown dangers and mutilations if he fell on the battlefield. He walked upright like a soldier. He imagined secluded places where he could fall and be left undisturbed. He fought against the tide of pain as he searched for one.

Once he put his hand to the top of his head and timidly touched the wound. The scratching pain of the contact made him draw a long breath through his clinched teeth. His fingers were dabbled with blood. He regarded them with a fixed stare.

Once, he put his hand on top of his head and timidly touched the wound. The scraping pain made him draw a long breath through clenched teeth. His fingers were smeared with blood. He stared at them.

Around him he could hear the grumble of jolted cannon as the scurrying horses were lashed toward the front. Once, a young officer on a besplashed charger nearly ran him down. He turned and watched the mass of guns, men, and horses sweeping in a wide curve toward a gap in a fence. The officer was making excited motions with a gauntleted hand. The guns followed the teams with an air of unwillingness, of being dragged by the heels.

Around him, he heard cannons rumble and jolt as the horses pulling them were whipped toward the front. Once, a young officer on a mud-splashed horse nearly rode him down. He turned and watched the mass of guns, men, and horses sweep in a wide curve toward a gap in a fence. The officer was gesturing excitedly with a gloved hand. The guns followed the teams unwillingly, as if they were being dragged by the heels.

Some officers of the scattered infantry were cursing and railing like fishwives. Their scolding voices could be heard above the din. Into the unspeakable jumble in the roadway rode a squadron of cavalry. The faded yellow of their facings shone bravely. There was a mighty altercation.

Some officers of the scattered infantry were cursing and yelling like fishwives. Their scolding voices could be heard above the noise. A squadron of cavalry rode into the unspeakable chaos in the road. The faded yellow trim on their uniforms shone boldly. A fierce argument broke out.

The artillery were assembling as if for a conference.

The artillery was gathering as if for a meeting.

The blue haze of evening was upon the field. The lines of forest were long purple shadows. One cloud lay along the western sky partly smothering the red.

A blue evening haze covered the field. The forest edges were long purple shadows. A cloud stretched across the western sky, partly covering the red.

As the youth left the scene behind him, he heard the guns suddenly roar out. He imagined them shaking in black rage. They belched and howled like brass devils guarding a gate. The soft air was filled with the tremendous remonstrance. With it came the shattering peal of opposing infantry. Turning to look behind him, he could see sheets of orange light illumine the shadowy distance. There were subtle and sudden lightnings in the far air. At times he thought he could see heaving masses of men.

As the youth left the scene behind him, he heard the guns suddenly roar. He imagined them shaking with black rage. They belched and howled like brass devils guarding a gate. Their tremendous protest filled the soft air. With it came the shattering crackle of the opposing infantry’s gunfire. He turned to look behind him and saw sheets of orange light illuminate the shadowy distance. Faint flashes flickered suddenly in the distant air. At times he thought he could see masses of men surging.

He hurried on in the dusk. The day had faded until he could barely distinguish place for his feet. The purple darkness was filled with men who lectured and jabbered. Sometimes he could see them gesticulating against the blue and somber sky. There seemed to be a great ruck of men and munitions spread about in the forest and in the fields.

He hurried on through the dusk. The daylight had faded until he could barely see where to place his feet. The purple darkness was filled with men who lectured and chattered. Sometimes he could see them waving their arms against the dark blue sky. There seemed to be a great mass of men and munitions scattered through the forest and fields.

The little narrow roadway now lay lifeless. There were overturned wagons like sun-dried bowlders. The bed of the former torrent was choked with the bodies of horses and splintered parts of war machines.

The narrow road was now lifeless. Overturned wagons lay like sun-dried boulders. The bed of the former torrent was choked with dead horses and splintered pieces of war machines.

It had come to pass that his wound pained him but little. He was afraid to move rapidly, however, for a dread of disturbing it. He held his head very still and took many precautions against stumbling. He was filled with anxiety, and his face was pinched and drawn in anticipation of the pain of any sudden mistake of his feet in the gloom.

His wound had come to hurt him very little. But he was afraid to move quickly for fear of disturbing it. He held his head very still and took great care not to stumble. He was anxious, and his face was pinched and drawn. He feared the pain he would feel if he suddenly stumbled in the darkness.

His thoughts, as he walked, fixed intently upon his hurt. There was a cool, liquid feeling about it and he imagined blood moving slowly down under his hair. His head seemed swollen to a size that made him think his neck to be inadequate.

As he walked, his thoughts were fixed on his wound. It felt cool and wet, and he imagined blood slowly trickling beneath his hair. His head seemed so swollen that his neck felt too small to support it.

The new silence of his wound made much worriment. The little blistering voices of pain that had called out from his scalp were, he thought, definite in their expression of danger. By them he believed he could measure his plight. But when they remained ominously silent he became frightened and imagined terrible fingers that clutched into his brain.

The sudden silence of his wound worried him greatly. The little stinging voices of pain from his scalp had seemed to give him a clear warning of danger. He believed he could measure how badly he was hurt by the pain. But when the pain fell ominously silent, he became frightened. He imagined terrible fingers clutching at his brain.

Amid it he began to reflect upon various incidents and conditions of the past. He bethought him of certain meals his mother had cooked at home, in which those dishes of which he was particularly fond had occupied prominent positions. He saw the spread table. The pine walls of the kitchen were glowing in the warm light from the stove. Too, he remembered how he and his companions used to go from the school-house to the bank of a shaded pool. He saw his clothes in disorderly array upon the grass of the bank. He felt the swash of the fragrant water upon his body. The leaves of the overhanging maple rustled with melody in the wind of youthful summer.

Amid it all, he began to think about events and circumstances from the past. He remembered meals his mother had cooked at home, with his favorite dishes set prominently on the table. He saw the table spread with food. The kitchen’s pine walls glowed in the warm light from the stove. He also remembered how he and his friends used to go from the schoolhouse to the bank of a shaded pool. He saw his clothes scattered on the grass. He felt the fragrant water wash over his body. The leaves of the overhanging maple rustled musically in the wind of his youthful summers.

He was overcome presently by a dragging weariness. His head hung forward and his shoulders were stooped as if he were bearing a great bundle. His feet shuffled along the ground.

Soon, he was overcome by a heavy weariness. His head hung forward, and his shoulders slumped as if he were carrying a heavy bundle. His feet shuffled along the ground.

He held continuous arguments as to whether he should lie down and sleep at some near spot, or force himself on until he reached a certain haven. He often tried to dismiss the question, but his body persisted in rebellion and his senses nagged at him like pampered babies.

He kept arguing with himself about whether to lie down and sleep nearby or push on to a certain refuge. He often tried to put the question aside, but his body kept rebelling and his senses nagged him like spoiled babies.

At last he heard a cheery voice near his shoulder: “Yeh seem t’ be in a pretty bad way, boy?”

At last, he heard a cheerful voice near his shoulder: “You seem to be in pretty bad shape, boy?”

The youth did not look up, but he assented with thick tongue. “Uh!”

The youth did not look up, but he agreed, his tongue thick. “Uh!”

The owner of the cheery voice took him firmly by the arm. “Well,” he said, with a round laugh, “I’m goin’ your way. Th’ hull gang is goin’ your way. An’ I guess I kin give yeh a lift.” They began to walk like a drunken man and his friend.

The man with the cheerful voice took him firmly by the arm. “Well,” he said with a hearty laugh, “I’m going your way. The whole gang is going your way. And I guess I can help you along.” They began to walk like a drunk man and his friend.

As they went along, the man questioned the youth and assisted him with the replies like one manipulating the mind of a child. Sometimes he interjected anecdotes. “What reg’ment do yeh b’long teh? Eh? What’s that? Th’ 304th N’ York? Why, what corps is that in? Oh, it is? Why, I thought they wasn’t engaged t’-day-they’re ’way over in th’ center. Oh, they was, eh? Well pretty nearly everybody got their share ’a fightin’ t’-day. By dad, I give myself up fer dead any number ’a times. There was shootin’ here an’ shootin’ there, an’ hollerin’ here an’ hollerin’ there, in th’ damn’ darkness, until I couldn’t tell t’ save m’ soul which side I was on. Sometimes I thought I was sure ’nough from Ohier, an’ other times I could ’a swore I was from th’ bitter end of Florida. It was th’ most mixed up dern thing I ever see. An’ these here hull woods is a reg’lar mess. It’ll be a miracle if we find our reg’ments t’-night. Pretty soon, though, we’ll meet a-plenty of guards an’ provost-guards, an’ one thing an’ another. Ho! there they go with an off’cer, I guess. Look at his hand a-draggin’. He’s got all th’ war he wants, I bet. He won’t be talkin’ so big about his reputation an’ all when they go t’ sawin’ off his leg. Poor feller! My brother’s got whiskers jest like that. How did yeh git ’way over here, anyhow? Your reg’ment is a long way from here, ain’t it? Well, I guess we can find it. Yeh know there was a boy killed in my comp’ny t’-day that I thought th’ world an’ all of. Jack was a nice feller. By ginger, it hurt like thunder t’ see ol’ Jack jest git knocked flat. We was a-standin’ purty peaceable fer a spell, ’though there was men runnin’ ev’ry way all ’round us, an’ while we was a-standin’ like that, ’long come a big fat feller. He began t’ peck at Jack’s elbow, an’ he ses: ‘Say, where’s th’ road t’ th’ river?’ An’ Jack, he never paid no attention, an’ th’ feller kept on a-peckin’ at his elbow an’ sayin’: ‘Say, where’s th’ road t’ th’ river?’ Jack was a-lookin’ ahead all th’ time tryin’ t’ see th’ Johnnies comin’ through th’ woods, an’ he never paid no attention t’ this big fat feller fer a long time, but at last he turned ’round an’ he ses: ‘Ah, go t’ hell an’ find th’ road t’ th’ river!’ An’ jest then a shot slapped him bang on th’ side th’ head. He was a sergeant, too. Them was his last words. Thunder, I wish we was sure ’a findin’ our reg’ments t’-night. It’s goin’ t’ be long huntin’. But I guess we kin do it.”

As they walked, the man questioned the youth and helped him answer, as if guiding a child’s thoughts. Now and then, he told a story. “What regiment do you belong to? Huh? What’s that? The 304th New York? Why, what corps is that in? Oh, it is? Why, I thought they weren’t engaged today. They’re way over in the center. Oh, they were, huh? Well, pretty nearly everybody got their share of fighting today. By God, I thought I was a dead man any number of times. There was shooting here and shooting there, and yelling here and yelling there, in the damn darkness. I couldn’t tell which side I was on to save my soul. Sometimes I thought I really was from Ohio. Other times I could have sworn I was from the far end of Florida. It was the most mixed up darn thing I ever saw. And these woods are a regular mess. It’ll be a miracle if we find our regiments tonight. Pretty soon, though, we’ll meet plenty of guards and provost guards and one thing and another. Hey! There they go with an officer, I guess. Look at his hand dragging. He’s had all the war he wants, I bet. He won’t be talking so big about his reputation and all when they start sawing off his leg. Poor fellow! My brother has whiskers just like that. “How did you get way over here, anyway? Your regiment is a long way from here, isn’t it? Well, I guess we can find it. You know, a boy in my company was killed today. I thought the world of him. Jack was a nice fellow. By God, it hurt like hell to see old Jack just get knocked flat. We were standing pretty peacefully for a while, though men were running every which way all around us. While we were standing there, a big fat fellow came along. He started poking Jack’s elbow, and he said, ‘Say, where’s the road to the river?’ Jack paid no attention. The fellow kept poking his elbow and saying, ‘Say, where’s the road to the river?’ Jack was looking ahead the whole time, trying to see the Johnnies coming through the woods. He paid no attention to the big fat fellow for a long time. But at last he turned around and said, ‘Ah, go to hell and find the road to the river!’ Just then, a shot hit him bang on the side of the head. He was a sergeant, too. Those were his last words. Hell, I wish we were sure of finding our regiments tonight. It’s going to be a long search. But I guess we can do it.”

In the search which followed, the man of the cheery voice seemed to the youth to possess a wand of a magic kind. He threaded the mazes of the tangled forest with a strange fortune. In encounters with guards and patrols he displayed the keenness of a detective and the valor of a gamin. Obstacles fell before him and became of assistance. The youth, with his chin still on his breast, stood woodenly by while his companion beat ways and means out of sullen things.

During the search that followed, the cheerful-voiced man seemed to the youth to have a magic wand. He made his way through the tangled forest with remarkable luck. When he met guards and patrols, he showed a detective’s sharpness and a street boy’s boldness. Obstacles gave way before him and became useful. The youth stood stiffly by, his chin still on his chest, while his companion forced uncooperative things to serve his purpose.

The forest seemed a vast hive of men buzzing about in frantic circles, but the cheery man conducted the youth without mistakes, until at last he began to chuckle with glee and self-satisfaction. “Ah, there yeh are! See that fire?”

The forest seemed like a huge hive of men buzzing around in frantic circles. But the cheerful man guided the young man without making a mistake. At last, he began to chuckle with delight and satisfaction. “Ah, there you are! See that fire?”

The youth nodded stupidly.

The young man nodded stupidly.

“Well, there’s where your reg’ment is. An’ now, good-by, ol’ boy, good luck t’ yeh.”

“Well, that’s where your regiment is. And now, goodbye, old boy. Good luck to you.”

A warm and strong hand clasped the youth’s languid fingers for an instant, and then he heard a cheerful and audacious whistling as the man strode away. As he who had so befriended him was thus passing out of his life, it suddenly occurred to the youth that he had not once seen his face.

A warm, strong hand clasped the youth’s limp fingers for a moment. Then he heard the man whistle cheerfully and boldly as he walked away. As the man who had helped him passed out of his life, the youth suddenly realized he had never seen his face.