Chapter 18

The ragged line had respite for some minutes, but during its pause the struggle in the forest became magnified until the trees seemed to quiver from the firing and the ground to shake from the rushing of men. The voices of the cannon were mingled in a long and interminable row. It seemed difficult to live in such an atmosphere. The chests of the men strained for a bit of freshness, and their throats craved water.

The ragged line of soldiers had a few minutes of rest. But during the pause, the fighting in the forest grew more intense. The trees seemed to tremble from the gunfire, and the ground seemed to shake from the men rushing through it. The cannons roared together in a long, endless barrage. It seemed hard to live in such an atmosphere. The men strained to draw a breath of fresh air, and their throats ached for water.

There was one shot through the body, who raised a cry of bitter lamentation when came this lull. Perhaps he had been calling out during the fighting also, but at that time no one had heard him. But now the men turned at the woeful complaints of him upon the ground.

One man had been shot through the body, and when the fighting paused, he cried out in bitter anguish. Perhaps he had been calling out during the fighting too, but no one had heard him then. Now the men turned toward him as he lay on the ground, crying out in misery.

“Who is it? Who is it?”

“Who is it? Who is it?”

“Its Jimmie Rogers. Jimmie Rogers.”

“It’s Jimmie Rogers. Jimmie Rogers.”

When their eyes first encountered him there was a sudden halt, as if they feared to go near. He was thrashing about in the grass, twisting his shuddering body into many strange postures. He was screaming loudly. This instant’s hesitation seemed to fill him with a tremendous, fantastic contempt, and he damned them in shrieked sentences.

When they first saw him, they stopped suddenly, as if they were afraid to go near him. He was thrashing in the grass, twisting his trembling body into strange positions. He was screaming loudly. Their brief hesitation seemed to fill him with tremendous, wild contempt, and he shrieked curses at them.

The youth’s friend had a geographical illusion concerning a stream, and he obtained permission to go for some water. Immediately canteens were showered upon him. “Fill mine, will yeh?” “Bring me some, too.” “And me, too.” He departed, ladened. The youth went with his friend, feeling a desire to throw his heated body into the stream and, soaking there, drink quarts.

The youth’s friend had a mistaken idea about where a stream was, and he got permission to fetch some water. Canteens were immediately showered on him. “Fill mine, will you?” “Bring me some, too.” “And me, too.” He left, loaded down with canteens. The youth went with his friend. He wanted to throw his overheated body into the stream and drink quarts of water as he soaked.

They made a hurried search for the supposed stream, but did not find it. “No water here,” said the youth. They turned without delay and began to retrace their steps.

They quickly looked for the stream they thought was there, but they did not find it. “No water here,” said the youth. They immediately turned and went back the way they had come.

From their position as they again faced toward the place of the fighting, they could comprehend a greater amount of the battle than when their visions had been blurred by the hurling smoke of the line. They could see dark stretches winding along the land, and on one cleared space there was a row of guns making gray clouds, which were filled with large flashes of orange-colored flame. Over some foliage they could see the roof of a house. One window, glowing a deep murder red, shone squarely through the leaves. From the edifice a tall leaning tower of smoke went far into the sky.

As they faced the fighting again, they could see more of the battle than before. Their view was no longer blurred by smoke swirling along the line. They could see dark stretches winding across the land. In a clearing, a row of guns sent up gray clouds filled with large flashes of orange flame. Above some foliage, they could see the roof of a house. One window glowed a deep, murderous red, shining squarely through the leaves. A tall, leaning column of smoke rose from the house, high into the sky.

Looking over their own troops, they saw mixed masses slowly getting into regular form. The sunlight made twinkling points of the bright steel. To the rear there was a glimpse of a distant roadway as it curved over a slope. It was crowded with retreating infantry. From all the interwoven forest arose the smoke and bluster of the battle. The air was always occupied by a blaring.

Looking over their own troops, they saw mixed groups slowly forming into ranks. Sunlight glinted off the bright steel. Behind them, they could glimpse a distant road curving over a slope. It was crowded with retreating infantry. Smoke and the roar of battle rose from all through the tangled forest. A blaring noise constantly filled the air.

Near where they stood shells were flip-flapping and hooting. Occasional bullets buzzed in the air and spanged into tree trunks. Wounded men and other stragglers were slinking through the woods.

Shells fluttered and howled near where they stood. Occasional bullets buzzed through the air and smacked into tree trunks. Wounded men and other stragglers slunk through the woods.

Looking down an aisle of the grove, the youth and his companion saw a jangling general and his staff almost ride upon a wounded man, who was crawling on his hands and knees. The general reined strongly at his charger’s opened and foamy mouth and guided it with dexterous horsemanship past the man. The latter scrambled in wild and torturing haste. His strength evidently failed him as he reached a place of safety. One of his arms suddenly weakened, and he fell, sliding over upon his back. He lay stretched out, breathing gently.

Looking down a path through the grove, the youth and his companion saw a jangling general and his staff. They almost rode over a wounded man who was crawling on his hands and knees. The general pulled hard on the reins of his foaming, open-mouthed horse and skillfully steered it past the man. The wounded man scrambled away in wild, agonizing haste. His strength seemed to fail him as he reached safety. One arm suddenly gave way, and he fell, rolling onto his back. He lay stretched out, breathing gently.

A moment later the small, creaking cavalcade was directly in front of the two soldiers. Another officer, riding with the skillful abandon of a cowboy, galloped his horse to a position directly before the general. The two unnoticed foot soldiers made a little show of going on, but they lingered near in the desire to overhear the conversation. Perhaps, they thought, some great inner historical things would be said.

A moment later, the small, creaking procession was directly in front of the two soldiers. Another officer rode with the skilled recklessness of a cowboy. He galloped his horse to a spot directly in front of the general. The two foot soldiers, who had gone unnoticed, made a show of moving on. But they stayed nearby, hoping to overhear the conversation. Perhaps, they thought, they would hear some great secrets of history.

The general, whom the boys knew as the commander of their division, looked at the other officer and spoke coolly, as if he were criticising his clothes. “Th’ enemy’s formin’ over there for another charge,” he said. “It’ll be directed against Whiterside, an’ I fear they’ll break through unless we work like thunder t’ stop them.”

The boys knew the general as their division commander. He looked at the other officer and spoke coolly, as if he were criticizing his clothes. “The enemy is forming over there for another charge,” he said. “They’ll attack Whiterside, and I’m afraid they’ll break through unless we work like thunder to stop them.”

The other swore at his restive horse, and then cleared his throat. He made a gesture toward his cap. “It’ll be hell t’ pay stoppin’ them,” he said shortly.

The other man swore at his restless horse, then cleared his throat. He gestured toward his cap. “It’ll be hell to stop them,” he said curtly.

“I presume so,” remarked the general. Then he began to talk rapidly and in a lower tone. He frequently illustrated his words with a pointing finger. The two infantrymen could hear nothing until finally he asked: “What troops can you spare?”

“I suppose so,” said the general. Then he began to speak quickly and more quietly. He often pointed his finger to illustrate what he was saying. The two infantrymen could hear nothing until he finally asked: “What troops can you spare?”

The officer who rode like a cowboy reflected for an instant. “Well,” he said, “I had to order in th’ 12th to help th’ 76th, an’ I haven’t really got any. But there’s th’ 304th. They fight like a lot ’a mule drivers. I can spare them best of any.”

The officer who rode like a cowboy thought for a moment. “Well,” he said, “I had to order the 12th in to help the 76th, and I really don’t have any troops to spare. But there’s the 304th. They fight like a bunch of mule drivers. I can spare them more easily than any of the others.”

The youth and his friend exchanged glances of astonishment.

The young man and his friend looked at each other in surprise.

The general spoke sharply. “Get ’em ready, then. I’ll watch developments from here, an’ send you word when t’ start them. It’ll happen in five minutes.”

The general spoke sharply. “Get them ready, then. I’ll watch what happens from here and send word when it’s time to start them. It’ll happen in five minutes.”

As the other officer tossed his fingers toward his cap and wheeling his horse, started away, the general called out to him in a sober voice: “I don’t believe many of your mule drivers will get back.”

The other officer saluted, turned his horse, and started to ride away. The general called after him in a serious voice: “I don’t believe many of your mule drivers will get back.”

The other shouted something in reply. He smiled.

The other shouted something back. He smiled.

With scared faces, the youth and his companion hurried back to the line.

With frightened faces, the young man and his companion hurried back to the line.

These happenings had occupied an incredibly short time, yet the youth felt that in them he had been made aged. New eyes were given to him. And the most startling thing was to learn suddenly that he was very insignificant. The officer spoke of the regiment as if he referred to a broom. Some part of the woods needed sweeping, perhaps, and he merely indicated a broom in a tone properly indifferent to its fate. It was war, no doubt, but it appeared strange.

These events had taken an incredibly short time, yet the young man felt they had aged him. He saw things with new eyes. The most startling discovery was how insignificant he was. The officer spoke of the regiment as if it were a broom. Perhaps part of the woods needed sweeping, and he merely pointed to a broom, speaking with a fitting indifference to its fate. It was war, no doubt, but it seemed strange.

As the two boys approached the line, the lieutenant perceived them and swelled with wrath. “Fleming—Wilson—how long does it take yeh to git water, anyhow—where yeh been to.”

As the two boys approached the line, the lieutenant saw them and grew furious. “Fleming, Wilson, how long does it take you to get water, anyway? Where have you been?”

But his oration ceased as he saw their eyes, which were large with great tales. “We’re goin’ t’ charge—we’re goin’ t’ charge!” cried the youth’s friend, hastening with his news.

But he stopped speaking when he saw their eyes, wide with stories to tell. “We’re going to charge, we’re going to charge!” cried the young man’s friend, rushing to share his news.

“Charge?” said the lieutenant. “Charge? Well, b’Gawd! Now, this is real fightin’.” Over his soiled countenance there went a boastful smile. “Charge? Well, b’Gawd!”

“Charge?” said the lieutenant. “Charge? Well, by God! Now, this is real fighting.” A boastful smile spread across his dirty face. “Charge? Well, by God!”

A little group of soldiers surrounded the two youths. “Are we, sure ’nough? Well, I’ll be derned! Charge? What fer? What at? Wilson, you’re lyin’.”

A small group of soldiers gathered around the two young men. “Are we, really? Well, I’ll be damned! Charge? Why? At what? Wilson, you’re lying.”

“I hope to die,” said the youth, pitching his tones to the key of angry remonstrance. “Sure as shooting, I tell you.”

“I swear,” the young man said, his voice angry and protesting. “I’m telling you, it’s absolutely true.”

And his friend spoke in re-enforcement. “Not by a blame sight, he ain’t lyin’. We heard ’em talkin’.”

His friend backed him up. “He’s definitely not lying. We heard them talking.”

They caught sight of two mounted figures a short distance from them. One was the colonel of the regiment and the other was the officer who had received orders from the commander of the division. They were gesticulating at each other. The soldier, pointing at them, interpreted the scene.

They spotted two men on horseback a short distance away. One was the regiment’s colonel. The other was the officer who had received orders from the division commander. The two men were gesturing at each other. The soldier pointed at them and explained the scene.

One man had a final objection: “How could yeh hear ’em talkin’?” But the men, for a large part, nodded, admitting that previously the two friends had spoken truth.

One man had one last objection: “How could you hear them talking?” But most of the men nodded, admitting that the two friends had told the truth before.

They settled back into reposeful attitudes with airs of having accepted the matter. And they mused upon it, with a hundred varieties of expression. It was an engrossing thing to think about. Many tightened their belts carefully and hitched at their trousers.

They settled back into relaxed positions, looking as if they had accepted the matter. They thought about it, their faces showing a hundred different expressions. It was a gripping thing to think about. Many carefully tightened their belts and pulled up their trousers.

A moment later the officers began to bustle among the men, pushing them into a more compact mass and into a better alignment. They chased those that straggled and fumed at a few men who seemed to show by their attitudes that they had decided to remain at that spot. They were like critical shepherds, struggling with sheep.

A moment later, the officers hurried among the men, pushing them closer together and into a straighter line. They chased after the stragglers and fumed at a few men whose posture suggested they had decided to stay put. The officers were like fussy shepherds struggling with sheep.

Presently, the regiment seemed to draw itself up and heave a deep breath. None of the men’s faces were mirrors of large thoughts. The soldiers were bended and stooped like sprinters before a signal. Many pairs of glinting eyes peered from the grimy faces toward the curtains of the deeper woods. They seemed to be engaged in deep calculations of time and distance.

Soon, the regiment seemed to straighten up and take a deep breath. None of the men’s faces showed any great thoughts. The soldiers crouched like sprinters waiting for a signal. Many pairs of eyes glinted in their grimy faces as they peered toward the curtain of deeper woods. They seemed to be carefully judging time and distance.

They were surrounded by the noises of the monstrous altercation between the two armies. The world was fully interested in other matters. Apparently, the regiment had its small affair to itself.

They were surrounded by the sounds of the monstrous battle between the two armies. The world was completely occupied with other matters. Apparently, the regiment had its small affair to itself.

The youth, turning, shot a quick, inquiring glance at his friend. The latter returned to him the same manner of look. They were the only ones who possessed an inner knowledge. “Mule drivers—hell t’ pay—don’t believe many will get back.” It was an ironical secret. Still, they saw no hesitation in each other’s faces, and they nodded a mute and unprotesting assent when a shaggy man near them said in a meek voice: “We’ll git swallowed.”

The young man turned and gave his friend a quick, questioning look. His friend gave him the same look. They were the only ones who knew the truth. “Mule drivers, hell to pay, don’t believe many will get back.” It was an ironic secret. Still, neither saw any hesitation on the other’s face. So they nodded silently, without protest, when a shaggy man near them said meekly, “We’ll get swallowed up.”