 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Neil Panky. The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane, Chapter 19. The youth stared at the land in front of him. Its foliage is now seemed to veil powers and horrors. He was unaware of the machinery of orders that started to charge, although from the corners of his eyes he saw an officer who looked like a boy horseback, come galloping waving his hat. Suddenly he felt a straining and heaving among the men. The line fell slowly forward like a toppling wall, and with a convulsive gas that was intended for a cheer, the regiment began its journey. The youth was pushed and jostled for a moment before he understood the movement at all, but directly he lunged ahead and began to run. He fixed his eye upon a distant and prominent clump of trees where he had concluded the enemy were to be met, and he ran toward it as toward a goal. He had believed throughout that it was a mere question of getting over an unpleasant matter as quickly as possible, and he ran desperately as if pursued for a murder. His face was drawn hard and tight with the stress of his endeavor. His eyes were fixed in a lured glare, and with his soiled and disordered dress, his red and inflamed features surmounted by the dingy rag with its spot of blood, his wildly swinging rifle, and banging accoutrements, he looked to be an insane soldier. As the regiment swung from its position out into a cleared space, the woods and thickets before it awakened. Yellow flames leaped toward it from many directions. The forest made a tremendous objection. The line lurched straight for a moment, then the right wing swung forward. It, in turn, was surpassed by the left. Afterward, the center careered to the front until the regiment was a wedge-shaped mass, but an instant later the opposition of bushes, trees, and uneven places on the ground split the command and scattered it into detached clusters. The youth, light-footed, was unconsciously in advance. His eyes still kept note of the clump of trees. From all places near it, the clannish yell of the enemy could be heard. The little flames of rifles leaped from it. The song of the bullets was in the air, and shells snarled among the treetops. One tumbled directly into the middle of a hurrying group and exploded in crimson fury. There was an instant spectacle of a man almost over it, throwing up his hands to shield his eyes. Other men, punched by bullets, fell in grotesque agonies. The regiment left a coherent trail of bodies. They had passed into a cleaner atmosphere. There was an effect like a revelation in the new appearance of the landscape. Some men working madly at a battery were playing to them, and the opposing infantry's lines were defined by the gray walls and fringes of smoke. It seemed to the youth that he saw everything. Each blade of the green grass was bold and clear. He thought that he was aware of every change in the thin transparent vapor that floated idly in the sheets. The brown or gray trunks of the trees showed each roughness of their surfaces. And the men of the regiment, with their starting eyes and sweating faces running madly or falling, as if thrown headlong, to queer, heaped-up corpses, all were comprehended. His mind took a mechanical but firm impression, so that afterward everything was pictured and explained to him, save why he himself was there. But there was a frenzy made from this furious rush. The men, pitching forward insanely, had burst into cheerings mob-like and barbaric, but tuned in strange keys that can arouse the dullard and stoic. It made a mad enthusiasm that it seemed to would be incapable of checking itself before granite and brass. There was the delirium that encounters despair and death, and is heedless and blind to the odds. It is a temporary but sublime absence of selfishness, and because it was of this order, it was the reason perhaps why the youth wondered, afterward, what reasons he could have, had for being there. Presently, the straining pace ate up the energies of the men, as if by agreement the leaders began to slacken their speed. The volleys directed against them had a seeming wind-like effect. The regiments snorted in blue, among some styled trees that began to falter and hesitate. The men, staring intently, began to wait for some of the distant walls of smoke to move and disclose to them the scene. Since much of their strength and their breadth had vanished, they returned to caution. They were become men again. The youth had a vague belief that he had run miles, and he thought in a way that he was now in some new and unknown land. The moment the regiment ceased its advance, the protesting splutter of musketry became a steady roar, long and accurate fringes of smoke spread out. From the top of a small hill came level belchings of yellow flame that caused an inhuman whistling in the air. The men, halted, had some opportunity to see some of their comrades, dropping with moans and shrieks. A few lay underfoot, still or wailing, and now for an instant the men stood, their rifles slackened their hands, and watched the regiment dwindle. They appeared dazed and stupid. This spectacle seemed to paralyze them, overcome them with a fatal fascination they stared woodenly at the sights, and lowering their eyes, looked from face to face. It was a strange pause and a strange silence. Then, above the sounds of the outside commotion arose the roar of the lieutenant. He strode suddenly forth, his infantile features black with rage. Come on, you fools, you bellowed. Come on, you can't stay here. You must come on. He said more, but much of it could not be understood. He started rapidly forward, with his head turned toward the men. Come on, he was shouting. The men stared with blank and yoke-alikes eyes at him. He was obliged to halt and retrace the steps. He stood, then with his back to the enemy, and delivered gigantic curses into the faces of the men. His body vibrated from the weight and force of his implications, and he could string osse with the facility of a maiden who strings beads. The friend of the youth aroused, lurching suddenly forward and dropping to his knees. He fired an angry shot at the persistent woods. This action awakened the men. They huddled them more like sheep. They seemed suddenly to rethink themselves of their weapons, and at once commenced firing. Belabored by their officers, they began to move forward. The regiment, involved like a cart, involved in mud and muddle, started uneventfully with many jolts and jerks. The men stopped, now every few paces to fire and load, and in this manner moved slowly on from trees to trees. The flaming opposition in their front grew with their advance until it seemed that all forward ways were barred by the thin, leaping tongues, and off to the right an ominous demonstration could sometimes be dimly discerned. The smoke lately generated was in confusing clouds that made it difficult for the regiment to proceed with intelligence. As he passed through each curling mass, the youth wondered what could confront him on the farther side. The command went painfully forward until an open space interposed between them and the lured lines. Here, crouching and cowering behind some trees, the men clung with desperation, as if threatened by a wave. They looked wild eyed, and as if amazed at the furious disturbance they had stirred. In the storm, there was an ironical expression of their importance. The faces of the men, too, showed a lack of certain feeling of responsibility for being there. It was as if they had been driven. It was the dominant animal failing to remember in the supreme moments the forceful causes of various superficial qualities. The whole affair seemed incomprehensible to many of them. As they halted thus, Lieutenant again began to bellow profanely. Regardless of the vindictive threats of the bullets, he went about coaxing, berating, and bedamming. His lips that were habitually in a soft and childlike curve were now writhing into unholy contortions. He swore by all possible deities. Once he grabbed the youth by the arm, come on, Elan, Keddie, roar. Come on. We'll all get killed if we stay here. We've only got to go across that lot, and then, the remainder of his idea, but disappeared in a blue haze of curses. The youth stretched forth his arm. Crossed there, his mouth was puckered in doubt and awe. Certainly, just crossed the lot. We can't stay here, screamed the lieutenant. He poked his face close to the youth and waved his bandaged hand. Come on. Presently he grappled with him, as if for a wrestling bout. It was as if he planned to drag the youth by the ear onto the assault. The private felt the sudden unspeakable indignation against his officer. He wrenched fiercely and shook him off. Come on yourself, then, he yelled. There was a bitter challenge in his voice. They galloped together down the regimental front. The friends scrambled after them. In front of the colors of the three men began to bawl. Come on, come on, they danced and gyrated like tortured savages. The flag, obedient to these appeals, bent at its glittering form and swept toward them. The men wavered and indecision for a moment, and then, with a long, waleful cry, the dilapidated regiment surged forward and began its new journey. Over the field, when the scurrying mass, it was a handful of men splattered into the faces of the enemy, tore at it instantly spraying the yellow tongues. A vast quantity of blue smoke hung before them. A mighty banging made ears valueless. The youth ran like a madman to reach the woods before a bullet could discover him. He ducked his head low like a football player. In his haste, his eyes almost closed, and then the scene was a wild blur. Pulsating, saliva stood at the corners of his mouth. Within him, as he hurled himself forward, was born a love, a despairing fondness for this flag which was near him. It was a creation of beauty and invulnerability. It was a goddess, radiant, that bent at its form with an imperious jester to him. It was a woman, red and white, hating and loving, that called him with the voice of his hopes. Because no harm could come to it, he endowed it with power. He kept near as if it could be a savor of life, and an imploring cry went from his mind. In the mad scramble, he was aware that the color sergeant flinched suddenly, as if struck by a bludgeon. He faltered and then became motionless, safe for his quivering knees. He made a spring and a clutch at the pole. At the same instant, his friend grabbed at it from the other side. They jerked at it, stout and furious, but the color sergeant was dead, and the corpse would not relinquish its trust. For a moment, there was a grim encounter. The dead man, swinging with bended back, seemed to be obstinately tugging, and ludicrous in awful ways for the possession of the flag. It was past an instant of time. They wrenched the flag furiously from the dead man, and, as they turned again, the corpse swayed forward with bowed head. One arm swung high, and the curved hand fell with heavy protest on the friend's unheeding shoulder. When the two youths turned away with the flag, they saw that much of the regiment had crumbled away, and the dejected remnant was coming slowly back. The men, having hurled themselves in projectile fashion, had presently expended their forces. They slowly retreated with their faces still toward the spluttering woods, and their hot rifles still replying to the din. Several officers were giving orders, their voices keyed to screams. Where in hell are you going? the lieutenant was asking in a sarcastic howl, and a red-bearded officer, whose voice of triple brass could plainly be heard, was commanding, shoot into him, shoot into him, goddamn their souls! There was a melee of screeches in which the men were ordered to do conflicting and impossible things. The youth and his friend had a small scuffle over the flag. Give it to me! No, let me keep it! Each felt satisfied with the other's possession of it, but each felt bound to declare by an offer to carry the emblem, his willingness to further risk himself. The youth roughly pushed his friend away. The regiment fell back to the stolid trees. There it halted for a moment to blaze at some dark forms that had begun to steal upon its track. Presently it resumed its march again, curving among the tree trunks. By the time the depleted regiment had again reached the first open space they were receiving a fast and merciless fire. There seemed to be mobs all about them. The greater part of the men, discouraged, their spirits worn by the turmoil, acted as if stunned. They accepted the pelting of bullets with bowed and weary heads. It was of no purpose to strive against walls. It was of no use to batter themselves against granite, and from this consciousness that they had attempted to conquer an unconquerable thing there seemed to arise a feeling that they had been betrayed. They glowered with bent brows, but dangerously upon some of the officers, more particularly upon the red-bearded one with the voice of triple brass. However, the rear of the regiment was fringed with men who continued to shoot irritably at the advancing foes. They seemed resolved to make every trouble. The youthful lieutenant was perhaps the last man in the disordered mass. His forgotten back was toward the enemy. He had been shot in the arm. It hung straight and rigid. Occasionally he would cease to remember it, and be about to emphasize an oath with a sweeping gesture. The multiplied pain caused him to swear with incredible power. The youth went along with slipping uncertain feet. He kept watchful eyes rearward. A scowl of mortification and rage was upon his face. He had thought of a fine revenge upon the officer who had referred to him and his fellows as mule-drivers, but he saw that it could not come to pass. His dreams had collapsed when the mule-drivers, dwindling rapidly, had wavered and hesitated on the little clearing, and then had recoiled. And now the retreat of the mule-drivers was a march of shame to him. A dagger-pointed gaze from without his blackened face was held toward the enemy, but his greater hatred was riveted upon the man, who not knowing him, had called him a mule-driver. When he knew that he and his comrades had failed to do anything in successful ways that might bring the little pangs of kind remorse upon the officer, the youth allowed the rage of the baffled to possess him. This cold officer upon a monument, who dropped epithets unconcernedly down, would be finer as a dead man, he thought. So grievous did he think it that he could never possess the secret right to taunt truly in answer. He had pictured red letters of curious revenge. We are mule-drivers, are we? And now he was compelled to throw them away. He presently wrapped his heart in the cloak of his pride and kept the flag erect. He harangued his fellows, pushing against their chests with his free hand. To those he knew well he made frantic appeals, beseeching them by name. Between him and the lieutenant, scolding and near to losing his mind with rage, there was felt a subtle fellowship and equality. They supported each other in all manner of horse-howling protests. But the regiment was a machine run down. The two men babbled at a forceless thing. The soldiers who had heart to go slowly were continually shaken in their resolves by a knowledge that comrades were slipping with speed back to the lines. It was difficult to think of reputation when others were thinking of skins. Wounded men were left crying on this black journey. The smoke fringes and flames blustered always. The youth, peering once through a sudden rift in a cloud, saw a brown mass of troops interwoven and magnified until they appeared to be thousands. A fierce huge flag flashed before his vision. Immediately, as if the uplifting of the smoke had been prearranged, the discovered troops burst into a rasping yell and a hundred flames jetted toward the retreating band. A rolling gray cloud again interposed as the regiment doggedly replied. The youth had to depend again upon his misused ears, which were trembling and buzzing from the melee of musketry and yells. The way seemed eternal. In the clouded haze, men became panic-stricken with the thought that the regiment had lost its path and was proceeding in a perilous direction. Once the men who headed the wild procession turned and came pushing back against their comrades, screaming that they were being fired upon from points which they had considered to be towards their own lines. This cry, a hysterical fear and dismay beset the troops. A soldier, who heretofore had been ambitious to make the regiment into a wise little band that would proceed calmly against the huge appearing difficulties, suddenly sank down and buried his face in his arms with an air of bowing to a doom. From another, a shrill lamentation rang out filled with profane illusions to a general. Men ran hither and dither, seeking with their eyes roads of escape, with serene regularity, as if controlled by a schedule, bullets buffed into men. The youth walked stolidly into the midst of the mob, and with his flag in his hands took a stand as if he expected an attempt to push him to the ground. He unconsciously assumed the attitude of the colour-bearer in the fight of the preceding day. He passed over his brow a hand that trembled. His breath did not come freely. He was choking during this small wait for the crisis. His friend came up to him. Well, Henry, I guess this is good by John. Oh, shut up, you damned fool! replied the youth, and he would not look at the other. The officers laboured like politicians to beat the mass into a proper circle to face the menaces. The ground was uneven and torn. The men curled into depressions and fitted themselves snugly behind whatever would frustrate a bullet. The youth noted with vague surprise that the lieutenant was standing mutely with his legs far apart and his sword held in the manner of a cane. The youth wondered what had happened to his vocal organs that he no more cursed. There was something curious in this little intent pause of the lieutenant. He was like a babe which, having wept its fill, raises its eyes and fixes upon a distant toy. He was engrossed in his contemplation, and the soft underlip quivered from self-whispered words. Some lazy and ignorant smoke curled slowly. The men, hiding from the bullets, waited anxiously for it to lift and disclose the plight of the regiment. The silent ranks were suddenly thrilled by the eager voice of the youthful lieutenant bawling out, Here they come! Right on to us by God! His further words were lost in a roar of wicked thunder from the men's rifles. The youth's eyes had instantly turned in the direction indicated by the awakened and agitated lieutenant, and he had seen the haze of treachery disclosing a body of soldiers of the enemy. They were so near that he could see their features. There was a recognition as he looked at the types of their faces. Also he perceived with dim amazement that their uniforms were rather gay in effect, being light gray, accented with a brilliant facing. Two the clothes seemed new. These troops had apparently been going forward with caution. Their rifles held in readiness when the youthful lieutenant had discovered them, and their movement had been interrupted by the volley from the blue regiment. From the moment's glimpse it was derived that they had been unaware of the proximity of their dark-suited foes, or had mistaken the direction. Almost instantly they were shut utterly from the youth's sight by the smoke from the energetic rifles of his companions. He strained his vision to learn the accomplishment of the volley, but the smoke hung before him. The two bodies of troops exchanged blows in the manner of a pair of boxers. The fast, angry firing went back and forth. The men in blue were intent with the despair of their circumstances, and they seized upon the revenge to be had at close range. Their thunder swelled loud and valiant. Their curving front bristled with flashes, and the place resounded with the clanger of their ramrods. The youth ducked and dodged for a time and achieved a few unsatisfactory views of the enemy. There appeared to be many of them, and they were replying swiftly. They seemed moving toward the blue regiment step by step. He seated himself gloomily on the ground with his flag between his knees. As he noted the vicious wolf-like temper of his comrades, he had a sweet thought that if the enemy was about to swallow the regimental broom as a large prisoner, it could at least have the consolation of going down with bristles forward. But the blows of the antagonist began to grow more weak. Fewer bullets ripped the air, and finally, when the men slackened to learn of the fight, they could only see dark, floating smoke. The regiment lay still and gazed. Presently some chance whim came to the pestering blur, and it began to coil heavily away. The men saw a ground vacant of fighters. It would have been an empty stage if it were not for the few corpses that lay thrown and twisted into fantastic shapes upon the sword. At the sight of this to blow, many of the men in blue sprang from behind their covers and made an ungainly dance of joy. Their eyes burned, and a hoarse cheer of elation broke from their dry lips. It had begun to seem to them that the events were trying to prove that they were impotent. These little battles had evidently endeavored to demonstrate that men could not fight well. When on the verge of submission to these opinions the small duel had shown them that the proportions were not impossible, and by it they had revenged themselves upon their misgivings and upon the foe. The impotence of enthusiasm was theirs again. They gazed about them with looks of uplifted pride, feeling a new trust in the grim, always confident weapons in their hands. And they were men. CHAPTER XXI Presently they knew that no firing threatened them. Always seemed once more open to them. The dusty blue lines of their friends were disclosed a short distance away. In the distance there were many colossal noises, but in all this part of the field there was a sudden stillness. They perceived that they were free. The depleted band drew a long breath of relief, and gathered itself into a bunch to complete its trip. In this last length of journey the men began to show strange emotions. They hurried with nervous fear. Some who had been dark and unfaltering in the grimest moments now could not conceal an anxiety that made them frantic. It was perhaps that they dreaded to be killed in insignificant ways after the times for proper military deaths had passed. Or perhaps they thought it would be too ironical to get killed at the portals of safety. With backward looks of perturbation they hastened. As they approached their own lines there was some sarcasm exhibited, on the part of a gaunt and bronzed regiment that lay resting in the shade of the trees. Questions were wafted to them. Where the hell you been? Wants you coming back for? Why didn't you stay there? Was it warm out there, sunny? Going home now, boys? One shouted in taunting mimicry, O mother, come quick and look at the soldiers! There was no reply from the bruised and battered regiment, save that one man made broadcast challenges to fistfights, and the red-bearded officer walked rather near and glared in great swashbuckler style at a tall captain in the other regiment. But the lieutenant suppressed the man who wished a fistfight, and the tall captain, flushing at the little fanfare of the red-bearded one, was obliged to look intently at some trees. The youth's tender flesh was deeply stung by these remarks. From under his creased brows he glowered with hate at the mockers. He meditated upon a few revenges. Still, many in the regiment hung their heads in criminal fashion, so that it came to pass that the men trudged with sudden heaviness, as if they bore upon their bended shoulders the coffin of their honor. And the youthful lieutenant, recollecting himself, began to mutter softly in black curses. They turned when they arrived at their old position to regard the ground over which they had charged. The youth in this contemplation was smitten with a large astonishment. He discovered that the distances, as compared with the brilliant measureings of his mind, were trivial and ridiculous. The stalled trees, where much had taken place, seemed incredibly near. The time, too, now that he reflected he saw to have been short. He wondered at the number of emotions and events that had been crowded into such little spaces. Elphin thoughts must have exaggerated and enlarged everything, he said. It seemed then that there was bitter justice in the speeches of the gaunt and bronzed veterans. He veiled a glance of disdain at his fellows who strewed the ground, choking with dust, red from perspiration, misty-eyed and disheveled. They were gulping at their canteens, fierce to wring every might of water from them, and they polished at their swollen and watery features with coat-sleeves and bunches of grass. However, to the youth there was a considerable joy in musing upon his performances during the charge. He had had very little time previously in which to appreciate himself, so that there was now much satisfaction in quietly thinking of his actions. He recalled bits of colour that in the flurry had stamped themselves unawares upon his engaged senses. As the regiment lay heaving from its hot exertions, the officer who had named them as mule-drivers came galloping along the line. He had lost his cap. His twosled hair streamed wildly, and his face was dark with vexation and wrath. His temper was displayed with more clearness by the way in which he managed his horse. He jerked and wrenched savagely at his bridle, stopping the hard-breathing animal with a furious pull near the kernel of the regiment. He immediately exploded in reproaches which came unbidden to the ears of the men. They were suddenly alert, being always curious about black words between officers. Oh! Thunder McChesney! What an awful bull you made of this thing! began the officer. He attempted low tones, but his indignation caused certain of the men's to learn the sense of his words. What an awful mess you made! Good Lord men, you stopped about a hundred feet this side of a very pretty success. If your men had gone a hundred feet further you would have made a great charge, but as it is, what a lot of mud-diggers you've got anyway! The men, listening with baited breath, now turned their curious eyes upon the kernel. They had a ragamuffin interest in this affair. The kernel was seen to straighten his form and put one hand forth in oratorical fashion. He wore an injured air. It was as if a deacon had been accused of stealing. The men were wiggling in an ecstasy of excitement. But of a sudden the kernel's manner changed from that of a deacon to that of a Frenchman. He shrugged his shoulders. Oh! well, General, we went as far as we could, he said calmly. As far as you could. Did you by God? snorted the other. Well, that wasn't very far, was it? he added, with a glance of cold contempt into the other's eyes. Not very far, I think. You were intended to make a diversion in favor of Whiter Side. How well you succeeded your own ears now can tell you. He wheeled his horse and rode stiffly away. The kernel, bitten to hear the jarring noises of an engagement in the woods to the left, broke out in vague damnations. The lieutenant, who had listened with an air of impotent rage to the interview, spoke suddenly in firm and undaunted tones. I don't care what a man is, whether he's a general or what, if he says the boys didn't put up a good fight out there he's a damned fool. Lieutenant began the kernel severely. This is my own affair, and I'll trouble you. The lieutenant made an obedient gesture. All right, Colonel, all right, he said. He sat down with an air of being content with himself. The news that the regiment had been reproached went along the line. For a time the men were bewildered by it. Good thunder! they ejaculated, staring at the vanishing form of the general. They conceived it to be a huge mistake. Presently, however, they began to believe that in truth their efforts had been called light. The youth could see this conviction wait upon the entire regiment until the men were like cuffed and cursed animals, but with all rebellious. The friend, with a grievance in his eye, went to the youth. I wonder what he does want, he said. He must think we went out there and played marbles. I never seen such a man. The youth developed a tranquil philosophy for these moments of irritation. Oh, well, he rejoined. He probably didn't see nothing of it, and got mad as blazes, and concluded we were a lot of sheep just because we didn't do what he wanted done. It's a pity old Grandpa Henderson got killed yesterday. He'd have known that we did our best and fought good. It's just our awful luck, that's what. I should say so, replied the friend. He seemed to be deeply wounded at an injustice. I should say we did have awful luck. There's no fun in fighting for people when everything you do, no matter what, ain't done right. I have a notion to stay behind next time and let them take their old charge and go to the devil with it. The youth spoke soothingly to his comrade. Well, we both did good. I'd like to see the fool what say we both didn't do as good as we could. Of course we did, declared the friend stoutly, and I'd break the fellow's neck if he was as big as a church. But we're all right anyhow, for I hear one fellow say that we too fit the best in the regiment, and they had a great argument about it. Another fellow, of course, he had to up and say it was a lie. He's seen all what was going on, and he never seen us from the beginning to the end. And a lot more stuck in and says it wasn't a lie. We did fight like thunder, and they gave us quite a send-off. But this is what I can't stand. These everlasting old soldiers, tittering and laughing, and then that general. He's crazy. The youth exclaimed with sudden exasperation. He's a lunkhead. He makes me mad. I wish he'd come along next time. We'd show him what. He ceased because several men had come hurrying up. Their faces expressed a bringing of great news. Oh, flim, you just oughta heard, cried one eagerly. Heard what? said the youth. You just oughta heard, repeated the other, and he arranged himself to tell his tidings. The others made an excited circle. Well, sir, the Colonel met your lieutenant right by us. It was the damnedest thing I ever heard. And he says, ahem, ahem, he says. Mr. Hasbrook, he says. By the way, who was that lad what carried the flag, he says. There, Fleming, what do you think of that? Who was the lad what carried the flag, he says. And the lieutenant, he speaks up right away. That's Fleming. And he's a Jim Hickey, he says. Right away. What? I say he did. A Jim Hickey, he says. Those are his words. He did, too. I say he did. If you can tell this story better than I can, you go ahead and tell it. Well, and keep your mouth shut. The lieutenant, he says, he's a Jim Hickey. And the Colonel, he says, he is, indeed, a very good man to have. He kept the flag way to the front. I saw him. He's a good one, says the Colonel. You bet, says the lieutenant. He and a fellow named Wilson was at the head of the charge, and howling like Indians all the time, he says. Head of the charge all the time, he says. A fellow named Wilson, he says. There, Wilson, my boy. Put that in a letter and send it home to your mother, hey? A fellow named Wilson, he says. And the Colonel, he says, were they indeed? My sakes, he says. At the head of the regiment, he says. They were, says the lieutenant. My sakes, says the Colonel. He says, well, well, well, he says, they deserve to be major generals. The youth and his friend had said, huh, you're lying, Thompson. Oh, go to blazes. He never said it. Oh, what a lie. But despite these youthful scoffings and embarrassments, they knew that their faces were deeply flushing from thrills of pleasure. They exchanged a secret glance of joy and congratulation. They speedily forgot many things. The past held no pictures of error and disappointment. They were very happy, and their hearts swelled with grateful affection for the Colonel and the youthful lieutenant. The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane Chapter 22 When the woods again began to pour forth the dark-hued masses of the enemy, the youth felt serene self-confidence. He smiled briefly when he saw men dodge and duck at the long screechings of shells that were thrown in giant handfuls over them. He stood, erect and tranquil, watching the attack begin against part of the line that made a blue curve along the side of an adjacent hill. His vision being unmolested by smoke from the rifles of his companions, he had opportunities to see parts of the hard fight. It was a relief to perceive at last from whence came some of these noises which had been roared into his ears. Off a short way he saw two regiments fighting a little separate battle with two other regiments. It was in a cleared space, wearing a set-apart look. They were blazing as if upon a wager, giving and taking tremendous blows. The firings were incredibly fierce and rapid. These intent regiments apparently were oblivious of all larger purposes of war, and were slugging each other as if at a matched game. In another direction he saw a magnificent brigade going with evident intention of driving the enemy from a wood. They passed in and out of sight, and presently there was a most awe- inspiring racket in the wood. The noise was unspeakable. Having stirred this prodigious uproar, and apparently finding it too prodigious, the brigade, after a little time, came marching eerily out again with its fine formation in no wise disturbed. There were no traces of speed in its movements. The brigade was jaunty and seemed to point a proud thumb at the yelling wood. On a slope to the left there was a long row of guns, gruff and maddened, denouncing the enemy, who down through the woods were forming for another attack in the pitiless monotony of conflicts. The round red discharges from the guns made a crimson flare and a high thick smoke. Occasionally glimpses could be caught of groups of the toiling artillerymen. In the rear of this row of guns stood a house, calm and white, amid bursting shells. A congregation of horses tied to a long railing were tugging frenziedly at their bridles. Men were running hither and thither. The detached battle between the four regiments lasted for some time. Their chance to be no interference, and they settled their dispute by themselves. They struck savagely and powerfully at each other for a period of minutes, and then the lighter-hued regiments faltered and drew back, leaving the dark blue lines shouting. The youth could see the two flags shaking with laughter and the smoke remnants. Presently there was a stillness, pregnant with meaning. The blue lines shifted and changed a trifle and stared expectantly at the silent woods and fields before them. The hush was solemn and church-like, save for a distant battery that evidently unable to remain quiet sent a faint rolling thunder over the ground. It irritated, like the noises of unimpressed boys. The men imagined that it would prevent their perched ears from hearing the first words of the new battle. Of a sudden the guns on the slope roared out a message of warning. A spluttering sound had begun in the woods. It swelled with amazing speed to a profound clamour that involved the earth and noises. The splitting crashes swept along the lines until an interminable roar was developed. To those in the midst of it it became a din fitted to the universe. It was the whirring and thumping of gigantic machinery, complications among the smaller stars. The youth's ears were filled cups. They were incapable of hearing more. On an incline over which a road wound he saw wild and desperate rushes of men perpetually backward and forward in riotous surges. These parts of the opposing armies were too long waves that pitched upon each other madly at dictated points. To and fro they swelled. Sometimes one side by its yells and cheers would proclaim decisive blows, but a moment later the other side would be all yells and cheers. Once the youth saw a spray of light forms go in hound-like leaps toward the waving blue lines. There was much howling, and presently it went away with a vast mouthful of prisoners, again he saw a blue wave dash with such thunderous force against a gray obstruction that it seemed to clear the earth of it and leave nothing but trampled sod. And always in their swift and deadly rushes to and fro the men screamed and yelled like maniacs. Particular pieces of fence or secure positions behind collections of trees were wrangled over, as gold thrones or pearl bedsteads. There were desperate lunges at these chosen spots seemingly every instant, and most of them were bandied like light toys between the contending forces. The youth could not tell from the battle flags flying like crimson foam in many directions which color of cloth was winning. His emaciated regiment bustled forth with undiminished fierceness when its time came. When assaulted again by bullets the men burst out in a barbaric cry of rage and pain. They bent their heads in aims of intent hatred behind the projected hammers of their guns. Their ramrods clanged loud with fury as their eager arms pounded the cartridges into the rifle barrels. The front of the regiment was a smoke wall penetrated by the flashing points of yellow and red. Wallowing in the fight they were in an astonishingly short time re-smudged. They surpassed in stain and dirt all their previous appearances. Moving to and fro with strained exertion, jabbering all the while they were, with their swaying bodies, black faces and glowing eyes, like strange and ugly fiends jigging heavily in the smoke. The lieutenant returning from a tour after a bandage, produced from a hidden receptacle of his mind new and portentous oaths suited to the emergency. Strings of expletives he swung lash-like over the backs of his men, and it was evident that his previous efforts had in no wise impaired his resources. The youth, still the bearer of the colours, did not feel his idleness. He was deeply absorbed as a spectator. The crash and swing of the great drama made him lean forward, intent-eyed, his face working in small contortions. Sometimes he prattled, words coming unconsciously from him in grotesque exclamations. He did not know that he breathed, that the flag hung silently over him, so absorbed was he. A formidable line of the enemy came within dangerous range. They could be seen plainly, tall, gaunt men with excited faces running with long strides toward a wandering fence. At sight of this danger the men suddenly ceased their cursing monotone. There was an instant of strained silence before they threw up their rifles and fired a plumping volley at the foes. There had been no order given. The men, upon recognizing the menace, had immediately let drive their flock of bullets without waiting for word of command. But the enemy were quick to gain the protection of the wandering line of fence. They slid down behind it with remarkable celerity, and from this position they began briskly to slice up the blue men. These latter braced their energies for a great struggle. Often white-clenched teeth shone from the dusky faces. Many heads surged to and fro, floating upon a pale sea of smoke. Those behind the fence frequently shouted and yelped in taunts and jibelike cries, but the regiment maintained a stressed silence. Perhaps at this new assault the men recalled the fact that they had been named mud-diggers, and it made their situation thrice bitter. They were breathlessly intent upon keeping the ground and thrusting away the rejoicing body of the enemy. They fought swiftly and with a despairing savageness denoted in their expressions. The youth had resolved not to budge whatever should happen. Some arrows of scorn that had buried themselves in his heart had generated strange and unspeakable hatred. It was clear to him that his final and absolute revenge was to be achieved by his dead body lying, torn and glittering upon the field. This was to be a poignant retaliation upon the officer who had said, mule-drivers, and later mud-diggers, for in all the wild grasping of his mind, for a unit responsible for his sufferings and commotions, he always seized upon the man who had dubbed him wrongly. And it was his idea, vaguely formulated, that his corpse would be for those eyes a great insult reproach. The regiment bled extravagantly. Grunting bundles of blue began to drop. The orderly sergeant of the youth's company was shot through the cheeks. Its supports being injured, his jaw hung afar down, disclosing in the wide cavern of his mouth a pulsing mass of blood and teeth. And with it all he made attempts to cry out. In his endeavour there was a dreadful earnestness, as if he conceived that one great shriek would make him well. The youth saw him presently go rearward. His strength seemed in no wise impaired. He ran swiftly, casting wild glances for succour. Others fell down about the feet of their companions. Some of the wounded crawled out and away, but many lay still, their bodies twisted into impossible shapes. The youth looked once for his friend. He saw a vehement young man, powder smeared and frazzled, whom he knew to be him. The lieutenant also was unscathed in his position at the rear. He had continued to curse, but it was now with the air of a man who was using his last box of oaths. For the fire of the regiment had begun to wane and drip. The robust voice that had come strangely from the thin ranks was growing rapidly weak. END OF CHAPTER XXVIII. The Colonel came running along the back of the line. There were other officers following him. We must charge him! they shouted. We must charge him! They cried with resentful voices, as if anticipating a rebellion against this plan by the men. The youth, upon hearing the shouts, began to study the distance between him and the enemy. He made vague calculations. He saw that to be firm soldiers they must go forward. It would be death to stay in the present place, and with all the circumstances to go backward would exalt too many others. Their hope was to push the galling foes away from the fence. He expected that his companions, weary and stiffened, would have to be driven to this assault, but as he turned toward them he perceived with a certain surprise that they were giving quick and unqualified expressions of assent. There was an ominous clanging overture to the charge when the shafts of the bayonets rattled upon the rifle barrels. At the yelled words of command the soldiers sprang forward in eager leaps. There was a new and unexpected force in the movement of the regiment. A knowledge of its faded and jaded condition made the charge appear like a paroxysm, a display of the strength that comes before a final feebleness. The men scampered in insane fever of haste, racing as if to achieve a sudden success before an exhilarating fluid should leave them. It was a blind and despairing rush by the collection of men in dusty and tattered blue, over a green sward and under a sapphire sky, toward a fence, dimly outlined in smoke, from behind which sputtered the fierce rifles of enemies. The youth kept the bright colors to the front. He was waving his free arm in furious circles, the wild shrieking mad calls and appeals, urging on those that did not need to be urged, for it seemed that the mob of blue men hurling themselves on the dangerous group of rifles were again grown suddenly wild with an enthusiasm of unselfishness. From the many firings starting toward them it looked as if they would merely succeed in making a great sprinkling of corpses on the grass between their former position and the fence. But they were in a state of frenzy, perhaps because of forgotten vanities, and it made an exhibition of sublime recklessness. There was no obvious questioning, nor figurings, nor diagrams. There was apparently no considered loopholes. It appeared that the swift wings of their desires would have shattered against the iron gates of the impossible. He himself felt the daring spirit of a savage religion-mad. He was capable of profound sacrifices, a tremendous death. He had no time for dissections, but he knew that he thought of the bullets only as things that could prevent him from reaching the place of his endeavour. There were subtle flashings of joy within him that thus should be his mind. He strained all his strength. His eyesight was shaken and dazzled by the tension of thought and muscle. He did not see anything except the mist of smoke gashed by the little knives of fire, but he knew that in it lay the aged face of a vanished farmer protecting the snuggled bodies of the gray men. As he ran, a thought of the shock of contact gleamed in his mind. He expected a great concussion when the two bodies of troops crashed together. This became a part of his wild battle madness. He could feel the onward swing of the regiment about him, and he conceived of a thunderous, crushing blow that would prostrate the resistance and spread consternation and amazement for miles. The flying regiment was going to have a catapulsion effect. This stream made him run faster among his comrades who were giving vent to horse and frantic cheers. But presently he could see that many of the men in gray did not intend to abide the blow. The smoke rolling, disclosed men who ran, their faces still turned. These grew to a crowd, who retired stubbornly. Individuals wheeled frequently to send a bullet at the blue wave. But at one part of the line there was a grim and obdurate group that made no movement. They were settled firmly down behind posts and rails. A flag ruffled and fierce waved over them and their rifles dinned fiercely. The blue whorl of men got very near, until it seemed that in truth there would be a close and frightful scuffle. There was an expressed disdain in the opposition of the little group that changed the meaning of the cheers of the men in blue. They became yells of wrath, directed, personal. The cries of the two parties were now in sound and interchange of scathing insults. They in blue showed their teeth, their eyes shown all white. They launched themselves as at the throats of those who stood resisting. The space between dwindled to an insignificant distance. The youth had centered the gaze of his soul upon that other flag. Its possession would be high pride. It would express bloody minglings near blows. He had a gigantic hatred for those who made great difficulties and complications. They caused it to be as a craved treasure of mythology, hung amid tasks and contrivances of danger. He plunged like a mad horse at it. He was resolved it should not escape if wild blows and daring of blows could seize it. His own emblem, quivering and a flare, was winging toward the other. It seemed there would shortly be an encounter of strange beaks and claws, as of eagles. The swirling body of blue men came to a sudden halt at close and disastrous range and roared a swift volley. The group in grey was split and broken by this fire, but its riddled body still fought. The men in blue yelled again and rushed in upon it. The youth, in his leapings, saw as through a mist a picture of four or five men stretched upon the ground or writhing upon their knees with bowed heads, as if they had been stricken by bolts from the sky. Tottering among them was the rival colour-bearer, whom the youth saw had been bitten vitally by the bullets of the last formidable volley. He perceived this man fighting a last struggle, the struggle of one whose legs are grasped by demons. It was a ghastly battle. Over his face was the bleach of death, but set upon it was the dark and hard lines of desperate purpose. With this terrible grin of resolution he hugged his precious flag to him, and was stumbling and staggering in his design to go the way that led to safety for it. But his wounds always made it seem that his feet were retarded, held, and he fought a grim fight, as with invisible ghouls fastened greedily upon his limbs. Those in advance of the scampering blue men, howling cheers, leapt at the fence, the despair of the lost was in his eyes as he glanced back at them. The youth's friend went over the obstruction in a tumbling heap and sprang at the flag as a panther at prey. He pulled at it, and wrenching it free, swung up its red brilliancy with a mad cry of exaltation even as the colour-bearer, gasping, lurched over in a final throw, and stiffening convulsively turned his dead face to the ground. There was much blood upon the grass blades. At the place of success there began more wild clamorings of cheers. The men gesticulated and bellowed in an ecstasy. When they spoke it was as if they considered their listener to be a mile away. What hats and caps were left to them they often slung high in the air. At one part of the line four men had been swooped upon, and they now sat as prisoners. Some blue men were about them in an eager and curious circle. The soldiers had trapped strange birds, and there was an examination. A flurry of fast questions was in the air. One of the prisoners was nursing a superficial wound in the foot, but he looked up from it often to curse with an astonishing utter abandon straight at the noses of his captors. He consigned them to red regions, he called upon the pestilential wrath of strange gods, and with it all he was singularly free from recognition of the finer points of the conduct of prisoners of war. It was as if a clumsy clod had trod upon his toe and he conceived it to be his privilege, his duty, to use deep, resentful oaths. Another, who was a boy in years, took his plight with great calmness and apparent good nature. He conversed with the men in blue, studying their faces with his bright and keen eyes. They spoke of battles and conditions. There was an acute interest in all their faces during this exchange of viewpoints. It seemed a great satisfaction to hear voices from where all had been darkness and speculation. The third captive sat with a morose countenance. He preserved a stoical and cold attitude. To all advances he made one reply without variation. I'll go to hell! The last of the four was always silent, and for the most part kept his face turned in unmolested directions. From the views the youth received he seemed to be in a state of absolute dejection. Shame was upon him, and with it profound regret that he was, perhaps, no more to be counted in the ranks of his fellows. The youth could detect no expression that would allow him to believe that the other was giving a thought to his narrowed future, the pictured dungeons, perhaps, and starvations and brutalities, libel to the imagination. All to be seen was shame for captivity and regret for the right to antagonize. After the men had celebrated sufficiently they settled down behind the old rail fence, on the opposite side to the one from which their foes had been driven. A few shot perfunctorily at distant marks. There was some long grass, the youth nestled in it, and rested, making a convenient rail support the flag. His friend, jubilant and glorified, holding his treasure with vanity, came to him there. They sat side by side and congratulated each other. End of Chapter 23 Red by Sandra in Wales United Kingdom August 2006 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer visit LibriVox.org The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane Chapter 24 Red by Sandra in Wales United Kingdom August 2006 The Roaring's 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 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. His friend also arose and stared. I bet we're going to get along out of this and back over the river, said he. Well, I swan, said the youth. 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, Oh Lord! They had as many objections to this change as they would have had to a proposal for a new battle. They trampled slowly back over the field across which they had run in a mad scamper. 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. 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 entrenchments. 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 debris-strewn ground. He breathed a breath of new satisfaction. He finally nudged his friend. Well, it's all over, he said to him. His friend gazed backward. But God it is, he assented. They mused. 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. He understood then that the existence of shot and counter-shot was in the past. He had dwelt in a land of strange squalling up evils 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. 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 cheap like, he struggled to marshal all his acts. At last they marched before him clearly. From this present viewpoint he was enabled to look upon them in spectator fashion and criticize them with some correctness, for his new condition had already defeated certain sympathies. 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 gaily with music. It was pleasure to watch these things. He spent delightful minutes viewing the gilded images of memory. He saw that he was good. He recalled with a thrill of joy the respectful comments of his fellows upon his conduct. 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. 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 loomed his last of strength and intellect for the tall soldier. He who, blind with weariness and pain, had been deserted 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. His friend turned. What's the matter, Henry? he demanded. The youth's reply was an outburst of crimson oaths. 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 sombre 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. Oh, if a man should come up and ask me, I'd say we got a dumb good licking. Licking in your eye! We ain't licked, sonny! We're going down here away, swing round, and come in behind them. Oh, hush with your coming in behind them! I've seen all of that I wanna. Don't tell me about coming in behind. Bill Smithers, he says he'd rather be in ten hundred battles and been in that hell of a hospital. He says they got shootin' in the night time, and shells dropped plung among them in the hospital. He says such hollering he never see. Hasbrook! He's the best officer of this year regiment. He's a whale. Didn't I tell you we'd come in around behind them? Didn't I tell you so? We— 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. 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 now he despised them. With this conviction came a store of assurance. He felt a quiet manhood, non-assertive, 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. 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 tranquility, and it was as if hot plowshares were not. Scars faded as 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. Over the river a golden ray of sun came through the hosts of leaden rain clouds. That is the end of The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane, first published in 1895.