Chapter 24

The roarings that had stretched in a long line of sound across the face of the forest began to grow intermittent and weaker. The stentorian speeches of the artillery continued in some distant encounter, but the crashes of the musketry had almost ceased. The youth and his friend of a sudden looked up, feeling a deadened form of distress at the waning of these noises, which had become a part of life. They could see changes going on among the troops. There were marchings this way and that way. A battery wheeled leisurely. On the crest of a small hill was the thick gleam of many departing muskets.

The roar that had stretched across the forest began to break up and grow weaker. The artillery still thundered in some distant battle, but the crashes of musket fire had almost stopped. The youth and his friend suddenly looked up. They felt a dull distress as the sounds faded, because the sounds had become part of life. They could see changes among the troops. Soldiers marched this way and that. A battery of artillery turned slowly. On the crest of a small hill, many muskets gleamed as the soldiers carrying them departed.

The youth arose. “Well, what now, I wonder?” he said. By his tone he seemed to be preparing to resent some new monstrosity in the way of dins and smashes. He shaded his eyes with his grimy hand and gazed over the field.

The young man stood up. “Well, what now, I wonder?” he said. His tone suggested he was ready to resent some new monstrous outbreak of noise and crashing. He shaded his eyes with his dirty hand and looked across the field.

His friend also arose and stared. “I bet we’re goin’ t’ git along out of this an’ back over th’ river,” said he.

His friend also stood up and stared. “I bet we’re going to get out of here and back across the river,” he said.

“Well, I swan!” said the youth.

“Well, I swear!” said the young man.

They waited, watching. Within a little while the regiment received orders to retrace its way. The men got up grunting from the grass, regretting the soft repose. They jerked their stiffened legs, and stretched their arms over their heads. One man swore as he rubbed his eyes. They all groaned “O Lord!” They had as many objections to this change as they would have had to a proposal for a new battle.

They waited and watched. Soon the regiment was ordered to go back the way it had come. The men grunted as they got up from the grass, sorry to leave their comfortable rest. They jerked their stiff legs and stretched their arms over their heads. One man swore as he rubbed his eyes. They all groaned “O Lord!” They objected to going back as much as they would have objected to a new battle.

They trampled slowly back over the field across which they had run in a mad scamper.

They trudged slowly back across the field they had crossed in a wild scramble.

The regiment marched until it had joined its fellows. The reformed brigade, in column, aimed through a wood at the road. Directly they were in a mass of dust-covered troops, and were trudging along in a way parallel to the enemy’s lines as these had been defined by the previous turmoil.

The regiment marched until it rejoined the other regiments. The reunited brigade marched in a column through a wood toward the road. Soon, the soldiers were among a mass of dust-covered troops. They trudged along parallel to the enemy lines, whose positions had been revealed by the earlier fighting.

They passed within view of a stolid white house, and saw in front of it groups of their comrades lying in wait behind a neat breastwork. A row of guns were booming at a distant enemy. Shells thrown in reply were raising clouds of dust and splinters. Horsemen dashed along the line of intrenchments.

They came within sight of a solid white house. In front of it, groups of their comrades lay in wait behind a neat defensive wall. A row of guns boomed at a distant enemy. Shells fired back at them raised clouds of dust and splinters. Horsemen raced along the line of trenches.

At this point of its march the division curved away from the field and went winding off in the direction of the river. When the significance of this movement had impressed itself upon the youth he turned his head and looked over his shoulder toward the trampled and débris-strewed ground. He breathed a breath of new satisfaction. He finally nudged his friend. “Well, it’s all over,” he said to him.

At this point in the march, the division turned away from the field and wound toward the river. When the young man realized what this movement meant, he looked over his shoulder at the trampled ground, strewn with debris. He breathed a fresh sigh of satisfaction. Finally, he nudged his friend. “Well, it’s all over,” he said to him.

His friend gazed backward. “B’Gawd, it is,” he assented. They mused.

His friend looked back. “By God, it is,” he agreed. They thought about it.

For a time the youth was obliged to reflect in a puzzled and uncertain way. His mind was undergoing a subtle change. It took moments for it to cast off its battleful ways and resume its accustomed course of thought. Gradually his brain emerged from the clogged clouds, and at last he was enabled to more closely comprehend himself and circumstance.

For a while, the young man could only think in a puzzled, uncertain way. His mind was undergoing a subtle change. It took some time to leave behind its habits of battle and return to its usual patterns of thought. Gradually, his mind emerged from the thick clouds, and at last he could better understand himself and his circumstances.

He understood then that the existence of shot and countershot was in the past. He had dwelt in a land of strange, squalling upheavals and had come forth. He had been where there was red of blood and black of passion, and he was escaped. His first thoughts were given to rejoicings at this fact.

He understood then that the exchange of gunfire was behind him. He had lived through strange, screaming chaos and come out of it. He had been where blood was red and passion was black, and he had escaped. At first, he rejoiced at having escaped.

Later he began to study his deeds, his failures, and his achievements. Thus, fresh from scenes where many of his usual machines of reflection had been idle, from where he had proceeded sheeplike, he struggled to marshal all his acts.

Later, he began to examine his actions, his failures, and his achievements. He had just come from scenes where much of his usual thinking had been idle and he had followed like a sheep. Now he struggled to put all his actions in order.

At last they marched before him clearly. From this present view point he was enabled to look upon them in spectator fashion and criticise them with some correctness, for his new condition had already defeated certain sympathies.

At last they marched clearly before him. From his present viewpoint, he could watch them like a spectator and judge them fairly accurately. His new condition had already overcome some of his sympathy.

Regarding his procession of memory he felt gleeful and unregretting, for in it his public deeds were paraded in great and shining prominence. Those performances which had been witnessed by his fellows marched now in wide purple and gold, having various deflections. They went gayly with music. It was pleasure to watch these things. He spent delightful minutes viewing the gilded images of memory.

He felt happy and without regret as his memories passed before him. In them, the deeds he had performed in public stood out, grand and shining. The actions his fellow soldiers had witnessed now marched in purple and gold, taking various turns. They marched cheerfully to music. It was a pleasure to watch them. He spent delightful minutes watching the gilded images of his memories.

He saw that he was good. He recalled with a thrill of joy the respectful comments of his fellows upon his conduct.

He saw that he was good. He remembered with a thrill of joy the respectful things his companions had said about his behavior.

Nevertheless, the ghost of his flight from the first engagement appeared to him and danced. There were small shoutings in his brain about these matters. For a moment he blushed, and the light of his soul flickered with shame.

Still, the ghost of his escape from the first battle appeared before him and danced. Little voices shouted in his mind about what had happened. For a moment, he blushed, and the light of his soul flickered with shame.

A specter of reproach came to him. There loomed the dogging memory of the tattered soldier—he who, gored by bullets and faint of blood, had fretted concerning an imagined wound in another; he who had loaned his last of strength and intellect for the tall soldier; he who, blind with weariness and pain, had been deserted in the field.

A haunting sense of guilt came over him. He could not escape the memory of the tattered soldier. Though riddled with bullets and weak from blood loss, the soldier had worried about an imagined wound in another man. He had given the last of his strength and understanding to help the tall soldier. Blind with exhaustion and pain, he had been abandoned in the field.

For an instant a wretched chill of sweat was upon him at the thought that he might be detected in the thing. As he stood persistently before his vision, he gave vent to a cry of sharp irritation and agony.

For a moment, he broke into a miserable cold sweat at the thought that he might be caught doing it. As he kept standing before his eyes, he cried out in sharp irritation and agony.

His friend turned. “What’s the matter, Henry?” he demanded. The youth’s reply was an outburst of crimson oaths.

His friend turned. “What’s the matter, Henry?” he demanded. Henry responded with a burst of angry curses.

As he marched along the little branch-hung roadway among his prattling companions this vision of cruelty brooded over him. It clung near him always and darkened his view of these deeds in purple and gold. Whichever way his thoughts turned they were followed by the somber phantom of the desertion in the fields. He looked stealthily at his companions, feeling sure that they must discern in his face evidences of this pursuit. But they were plodding in ragged array, discussing with quick tongues the accomplishments of the late battle.

As he marched along the narrow road beneath overhanging branches, his companions chattered around him. The vision of cruelty weighed on him. It stayed with him always, darkening his view of these glorious deeds. Wherever his thoughts turned, the dark ghost of the desertion in the fields followed them. He glanced secretly at his companions, certain they could see signs of this haunting in his face. But they trudged along in a ragged line, eagerly discussing what they had accomplished in the recent battle.

“Oh, if a man should come up an’ ask me, I’d say we got a dum good lickin’.”

“Oh, if someone came up and asked me, I’d say we got a damn good beating.”

“Lickin’—in yer eye! We ain’t licked, sonny. We’re goin’ down here aways, swing aroun’, an’ come in behint ’em.”

“Beaten? Not a chance! We’re not beaten, sonny. We’re going down a ways, then circling around and coming in behind them.”

“Oh, hush, with your comin’ in behint ’em. I’ve seen all ’a that I wanta. Don’t tell me about comin’ in behint—”

“Oh, be quiet about coming in behind them. I’ve seen all of that I want to. Don’t tell me about coming in behind them...”

“Bill Smithers, he ses he’d rather been in ten hundred battles than been in that heluva hospital. He ses they got shootin’ in th’ nighttime, an’ shells dropped plum among ’em in th’ hospital. He ses sech hollerin’ he never see.”

“Bill Smithers says he’d rather have been in a thousand battles than in that hell of a hospital. He says there was shooting at night, and shells landed right among them in the hospital. He says he never heard such hollering.”

“Hasbrouck? He’s th’ best off’cer in this here reg’ment. He’s a whale.”

“Hasbrouck? He’s the best officer in this regiment. He’s terrific.”

“Didn’t I tell yeh we’d come aroun’ in behint ’em? Didn’t I tell yeh so? We—”

“Didn’t I tell you we’d come around behind them? Didn’t I tell you? We...”

“Oh, shet yeh mouth!”

“Oh, shut your mouth!”

For a time this pursuing recollection of the tattered man took all elation from the youth’s veins. He saw his vivid error, and he was afraid that it would stand before him all his life. He took no share in the chatter of his comrades, nor did he look at them or know them, save when he felt sudden suspicion that they were seeing his thoughts and scrutinizing each detail of the scene with the tattered soldier.

For a while, the haunting memory of the tattered man drained all the joy from the youth. He saw his mistake clearly and feared it would haunt him all his life. He did not join his comrades’ chatter. He did not look at them or notice them, except when he suddenly suspected they could see his thoughts. Then he feared they were examining every detail of the scene with the tattered soldier.

Yet gradually he mustered force to put the sin at a distance. And at last his eyes seemed to open to some new ways. He found that he could look back upon the brass and bombast of his earlier gospels and see them truly. He was gleeful when he discovered that he now despised them.

Yet gradually he found the strength to put the sin behind him. At last, he seemed to see things in new ways. He could look back on the bluster and grand claims of his earlier beliefs and see them for what they were. He was delighted to discover that he now despised them.

With this conviction came a store of assurance. He felt a quiet manhood, nonassertive but of sturdy and strong blood. He knew that he would no more quail before his guides wherever they should point. He had been to touch the great death, and found that, after all, it was but the great death. He was a man.

With this conviction came a sense of confidence. He felt a quiet manhood, unassuming but strong and sturdy. He knew he would no longer shrink back, wherever his guides pointed him. He had touched the great death and found that, after all, it was only the great death. He was a man.

So it came to pass that as he trudged from the place of blood and wrath his soul changed. He came from hot plowshares to prospects of clover tranquilly, and it was as if hot plowshares were not. Scars faded as flowers.

As he trudged away from the place of blood and anger, his soul changed. He passed calmly from hot plowshares to the sight of clover, as if the hot plowshares had never existed. Scars faded like flowers.

It rained. The procession of weary soldiers became a bedraggled train, despondent and muttering, marching with churning effort in a trough of liquid brown mud under a low, wretched sky. Yet the youth smiled, for he saw that the world was a world for him, though many discovered it to be made of oaths and walking sticks. He had rid himself of the red sickness of battle. The sultry nightmare was in the past. He had been an animal blistered and sweating in the heat and pain of war. He turned now with a lover’s thirst to images of tranquil skies, fresh meadows, cool brooks—an existence of soft and eternal peace.

It rained. The line of weary soldiers became a bedraggled procession. Downcast and muttering, they struggled through a deep stretch of liquid brown mud under a low, miserable sky. Yet the young man smiled. He saw that the world had a place for him, though many found it to be a world of curses and walking sticks. He had freed himself from the red sickness of battle. The stifling nightmare was behind him. He had been like an animal, blistered and sweating in the heat and pain of war. Now, with a lover’s thirst, he turned to images of calm skies, fresh meadows, and cool streams. He imagined a life of gentle, endless peace.

Over the river a golden ray of sun came through the hosts of leaden rain clouds.

Over the river, a golden ray of sunlight broke through the masses of dark gray rain clouds.

THE END.

THE END.