 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 Kirk Thomas, Atlanta, Georgia. The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane, Chapter 9. The youth fell back in the procession until the tattered soldier was not in sight. Then he started to walk on with the others. But he was amid wounds. The mob of men was bleeding. Because of the tattered soldier's question, he now felt that his shame could be viewed. He was continually casting side-long glances to see if the men were contemplating the letters of guilt he felt burned into his brow. At times he regarded the wounded soldiers in an envious way. He conceived persons with torn bodies to be peculiarly happy. He wished that he too had a wound, a Red Badge of Courage. The spectral soldier was at his side like a stalking reproach. The man's eyes were still fixed in a stare into the unknown. His gray, appalling face had attracted attention in the crowd, and men, slowing to his dreary pace, were walking with him. They were discussing his plight, questioning him and giving him advice. In a dogged way he repelled them, signing to them to go on and leave him alone. The shadows of his face were deepening, and his tight lips seemed holding in check the moan of great despair. He could be seen as certain stiffness in the movements of his body as if he were taking infinite care not to arouse the passion of his wounds. As he went on he seemed always looking for a place, like one who goes to choose a grave. Something in the gesture of the man as he waved the bloody and pitying soldiers away made the youth start as if bitten. Held in horror, tottering forward he laid a quivering hand upon the man's arm. As the latter slowly turned his wax-like features toward him the youth screamed, God! Jim Conklin! The tall soldier made a little commonplace smile. Hello, Henry, he said. The youth swayed on his legs and glared strangely. He stuttered and stammered, Jim! Jim! Jim! The tall soldier held out his gory hand. There was a curious red and black combination of new blood and old blood upon it. Where you been, Henry? he asked. He continued in a monotonous voice. I thought maybe he got keeled over. There's been thunder to pay today. I was worrying about it a good deal. The youth still lamented. Oh, Jim! Oh, Jim! Oh, Jim! You know, said the tall soldier, I was out there. He made a careful gesture. And Lord, what a circus! And Bejimini, I got shot! I got shot! Yes, Bejimini, I got shot! He reiterated this fact in a bewildered way as if he did not know how it came about. The youth put forth anxious arms to assist him, but the tall soldier went firmly as if propelled. Since the youth's arrival as a guardian for his friend, the other wounded men had ceased to display much interest. They occupied themselves again in dragging their own tragedies toward the rear. Suddenly as the two friends marched on, the tall soldier seemed to be overcome by a tremor. His face turned to a semblance of gray paste. He clutched the youth's arm and looked all about him as if dreading to be overheard. Then he began to speak in a shaking whisper. I tell you what I'm afraid of, Henry. I'll tell you what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid I'll fall down. And them, you know, them damned artillery wagons, they lack as not a run over me. That's what I'm afraid of. The youth cried out to him hysterically. I'll take care of you, Jim. I'll take care of you. I swear to God I will. Sure, will you, Henry? The tall soldier beseeched. Yes, yes, I tell you. I'll take care of you, Jim, protested the youth. He could not speak accurately because of the gulpings in his throat. But the tall soldier continued to beg in a lowly way. He now hung babelike to the youth's arm. His eyes rolled in the wildness of his terror. I was always a good friend to you, wouldn't I, Henry? I've always been a pretty good fella, ain't I? And it ain't much to ask, is it? Just to pull me along out of the road? I'd do it for you, wouldn't I, Henry? He paused in piteous anxiety to wait his friend's reply. The youth had reached an anguish where the sobs scorched him. He strove to express his loyalty, but he could only make fantastic gestures. However, the tall soldier seemed suddenly to forget all those fears. He became, again, the grim stalking specter of a soldier. He went stonely forward. The youth wished his friend to lean upon him, but the other always shook his head and strangely protested. No, no, no. Leave me be. Leave me be. His look was fixed again upon the unknown. He moved with mysterious purpose. And all of the youth's offers he brushed aside. No, no. Leave me be. Leave me be. The youth had to follow. Presently the latter heard a voice talking softly near his shoulder. Turning he saw that it belonged to the tattered soldier. You'd better take him out of the road, partner. There's a bad recumbent hellity whoop down the road and he'll get runned over. He's a goner anyhow in about five minutes. You can see that. You'd better take him out of the road. Where the blazes does he get his strength from? Lord knows, cried the youth. He was shaking his hands helplessly. He ran forward presently and grasped the tall soldier by the arm. Jim, Jim, he coaxed. Come with me. The tall soldier weakly tried to wrench himself free. Huh! he said vacantly. He stared at the youth for a moment. At last he spoke as if dimly comprehending. Oh! Into the fields? Oh! He started blindly through the grass. The youth turned once to look at the lashing riders and jouncing guns of the battery. He was startled from this view by a shrill outcry from the tattered man. God! He's running! Turning his head swiftly the youth saw his friend running in a staggering and stumbling way toward a little clump of bushes. His heart seemed to wrench itself almost free from his body at this sight. He made a noise of pain. He and the tattered man began a pursuit. There was a singular race. When he overtook the tall soldier he began to plead with all the words he could find. Jim, Jim, what are you doing? What makes you do this way? You'll hurt yourself. The same purpose was in the tall soldier's face. He protested in a dulled way, keeping his eyes fastened on the mystic place of his intentions. No, no, don't touch me. Leave me be. Leave me be. The youth, aghast and filled with wonder at the tall soldier, began quaveringly to question him. Where are you going, Jim? What are you thinking about? Where are you going? Tell me, won't you, Jim? The tall soldier faced about as upon relentless pursuers. In his eyes there was a great appeal. Leave me be, can't you? Leave me be for a minute. The youth recoiled. Why, Jim, he said in a dazed way, what's the matter with you? The tall soldier turned and lurching dangerously went on. The youth and the tattered soldier followed, sneaking as it whipped, feeling unable to face the stricken man if he should again confront them. They began to have thoughts of a solemn ceremony. There was something right-like in these movements of the doomed soldier. And there was a resemblance in him to a devotee of a mad religion, blood-sucking, muscle-wrenching, bone-crushing. They were awed and afraid. They hung back lest he have it command a dreadful weapon. At last they saw him stop and stand motionless. Hastening up they perceived that his face were an expression telling he had at last found the place for which he had struggled. His spare figure was erect. His bloody hands were quietly at his side. He was waiting with patience for something that he had come to meet. He was at the rendezvous. They paused and stood, expectant. There was a silence. Finally the chest of the doomed soldier began to heave with a strained motion. It increased in violence until it was as if an animal was within and was kicking and tumbling furiously to be free. This spectacle of gradual strangulation made the youth writhe, and once as his friend rolled his eyes he saw something in them that made him sink, wailing to the ground. He raised his voice in a last supreme call. Jim! Jim! Jim! The tall soldier opened his lips and spoke. He made a gesture. Leave me be. Don't touch me. Leave me be. There was another silence while he waited. Suddenly his form stiffened and straightened. Then it was shaken by a prolonged ague. He stared into space, to the two watchers that was a curious and profound dignity in the firm lines of his awful face. He was invaded by a creeping strangeness that slowly enveloped him. For a moment the tremor of his legs caused him to dance a sort of hideous hornpipe. His arms beat wildly about his head, an expression of implike enthusiasm. His tall figure stretched itself to its full height. It was a slight rending sound. Then it began to swing forward, slow and straight, in the manner of a falling tree. A swift muscular contortion made the left shoulder strike the ground first. The body seemed to bounce a little away from the earth. God! said the tattered soldier. The youth had watched, spellbound, this ceremony at the place of meeting. His face had been twisted into an expression of every agony he had imagined for his friend. He now sprang to his feet and, going closer, gazed upon the paced-like face. The mouth was open and the teeth showed in a laugh. As the flap of the blue jacket fell away from the body he could see that the side looked as if it had been chewed by wolves. The youth turned with sudden livid rage toward the battlefield. He shook his fist. He seemed about to deliver a phillipic. Hell! The red sun was pasted in the sky like a wafer. End of Chapter 9 This recording is in the public domain. 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 Jim Morris-Noor. The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane Chapter 10 The tattered man stood musing. Well, he was a regular Jim Dandy for nerve-warning. Said he, finally, in a little awestruck voice. A regular Jim Dandy. He thoughtfully poked one of the docile hands with his foot. I wonder where he got his strength from? I never seen a man do like that before. It was a funny thing. Well, he was a regular Jim Dandy. The youth desired to screech out his grief. He was stabbed, but his tongue lay dead in the tomb of his mouth. He threw himself again upon the ground and began to brood. The tattered man stood musing. Looka here, partner, he said after a time. He regarded the corpse as he spoke. He's up and gone, ain't he? And we might as well begin to look out for old number one. This here thing is all over. He's up and gone, ain't he? And he's all right here. Nobody won't bother him. And I must say, I ain't enjoying any great health myself these days. The youth, awakened by the tattered soldier's tone, looked quickly up. He saw that he was swinging uncertainly on his legs and that his face had turned to a shade of blue. Good Lord, he cried. You ain't going to—not you, too. The tattered man waved his hand. There he died, he said. All I want is some pea soup and a good bed. Some pea soup, he repeated dreamfully. The youth arose from the ground. I wonder where he came from. I left him over there, he pointed. And now I find him here. And he was coming from over there, too. He indicated a new direction. They both turned toward the body as if to ask of it a question. Well, at length spoke the tattered man. There ain't no youth in our stand here in trying to ask him anything. The youth nodded in assent, wearily. They both turned to gaze for a moment at the corpse. The youth murmured something. Well, he was a Jim Dandy, wasn't he? Said the tattered man as if in response. They turned their backs upon it and started away. For a time they stole softly, treading with their toes. It remained laughing there in the grass. I'm commencing to feel pretty bad, said the tattered man, suddenly breaking one of his little silences. I'm commencing to feel pretty damn bad. The youth groaned. Oh, Lord! He wondered if he was to be the tortured witness of another grim encounter. But his companion waved his hand reassuringly. Oh, I'm not going to die yet. They're too much dependent on me for me to die yet. No, sir, nary, die. I can't. You ought to see the swat of children I've got. And all like that. The youth, glancing at his companion, could see by the shadow of a smile that he was making some kind of fun. As they plotted on, the tattered soldier continued to talk. Besides, if I died, I wouldn't die the way that feller did. That was the funniest thing. I'd just flop down, I would. I'd never seen that feller die the way that feller did. You know Tom Jameson. He lives next door to me, up home. He's a nice feller, he is. And we was always good friends. Smart, too. Smart is a steel trap. Well, when we was a fightin' this afternoon, all of a sudden he began to rip up and cuss and beller at me. You're shot. You blamed infernal— He swear horrible, he says to me. I put up my hand and my head, and where I looked out of my fingers, I seen sure enough I was shot. I'd give a holler and begin to run. But before I could get away, another one hit me in the arm and whirled me clean around. I got scared when there was all a shooting behind me. And I run to beat all. But I caught it pretty bad. I have an idea, I've been a fightin' yet, if it weren't for Tom Jameson. Then he made a calm announcement. There's two of them—little ones— but they're beginin' to have fun with me now. I don't believe I can walk much further. They went slowly on in silence. You look pretty peaked yourself, said the tattered man at last. I bet you've got a worse one than you think. You'd better take care of your hurt. It won't do to let such things go. It might be inside mostly, and thems plays thunder. Where is it located? But he continued his orang without waiting for a reply. I see a filler get hit plumb in the head when my regiment was a standin' at ease once. And everybody yelled to him, Hurt John, are you hurt much? No, says he. He looked kinda surprised, and he went on tellin' him how he felt. He said he didn't feel nothin'. But, by dad, the first thing that fella know'd, he was dead. Yes, he was dead, stone dead. So, you wanna watch out. You might have some queer kinda hurt yourself. You can't never tell. Where isn't your located? The youth had been wriggling since the introduction of this topic. He now gave a cry of exasperation, and made a furious motion with his hand. Oh, don't bother me, he said. He was enraged against the tattered man, and could've strangled him. His companions seemed ever to play intolerable parts. They were ever upraising the ghost of shame on the stick of their curiosity. He turned toward the tattered man as one at bay. Now, don't bother me, he repeated, with a desperate menace. Well, Lord knows I don't wanna bother anybody, said the other. There was a little accent of despair in his voice, as he replied, Lord knows I've got enough of my own to tend to. The youth, who had been holding a bitter debate with himself, and casting glances of hatred and contempt at the tattered man, here spoke in a hard voice. Goodbye, he said. The tattered man looked at him in gaping amazement. Why, partner, where are you going? He asked unsteadily. The youth looked at him. Could see that he too, like that other one, was beginning to act dumb and animal-like. His thoughts seemed to be floundering about in his head. Now, look here, you Tom Jameson. Now, I won't have this. This here won't do. Where, where are you going? The tattered man looked at him in gaping amazement. Why, partner, where are you going? He asked unsteadily. The youth, looking at him, could see that he too, like that other one, was beginning to act dumb and animal-like. His thoughts seemed to be floundering about in his head. Now, now, look here, you Tom Jameson. Now, I won't have this. This here won't do. Where, where are you going? The youth pointed vaguely. Over there, he replied. Well, now, look here now, said the tattered man, rambling on in idiot fashion. His head was hanging forward and his words were slurred. This thing won't do. Now, Tom Jameson, it won't do. I know you, you pig-headed devil. You want to go chomping off with a bad hurt. It ain't right now, Tom Jameson, it ain't. You want to leave me take care of you, Tom Jameson. It ain't right. It ain't for you to go chomping off with a bad hurt. It ain't, ain't, ain't right. It ain't. In reply, the youth climbed to fence and started away. He could hear the tattered man bleeding, plaintively. Once, he faced about angrily. What? Look here now, Tom Jameson, now, it ain't. The youth went on. Turning at a distance, he saw the tattered man wandering about helplessly in the field. He now thought that he wished he was dead. He believed he envied those men whose bodies lay strewn over the grass of the fields and on the fallen leaves of the forest. The simple questions of the tattered man had been knife thrust to him. They asserted a society that probes pitilessly at secrets until all is apparent. His late companion's chance persistency made him feel that he could not keep his crime concealed in his bosom. It was sure to be brought plain by one of those arrows which cloud the air and are constantly pricking, discovering, proclaiming those things which are willed to be forever hidden. He admitted that he could not defend himself against this agency. It was not within the power of vigilance. CHAPTER XI He became aware that the furnace roar of the battle was growing louder. Great, blown clouds had floated to the still heights of air before him, though noise, too, was approaching. The woods filtered men, and the fields became dotted. As he rounded a hillock, he perceived that the roadway was now a crying mass of wagons, teams, and men. From the heaving tangle issued exhortations, commands, imprecations. Fear was sweeping it all along. The cracking whips bit, and horses plunged and tugged. The white-topped wagons strained and stumbled in their exertions like fat sheep. The youth felt comforted in a measure by this sight. They were all retreating. Perhaps, then, he was not so bad after all. He seated himself and watched the terror-stricken wagons. They fled like soft, ungainly animals. All the roarers and lashes served to help him to magnify the dangers and horrors of the engagement, that he might prove to himself that the thing with which men could charge him was in truth a symmetrical act. There was an amount of pleasure to him in watching the wild march of this vindication. Presently the calm head of a forward-going column of infantry appeared in the road. It came swiftly on. Avoiding the obstructions gave it the sinuous movement of a serpent. The men at the head buttered mules with their musket-stocks. They prodded teamsters indifferent to all howls. The men forced their way through parts of the dense mass by strength. The blunt head of the column pushed. The raving teamsters swore many strange oaths. The commands to make way had the ring of a great importance in them. The men were going forward to the heart of the den. They were to confront the eager rush of the enemy. They felt the pride of their onward movement when the remainder of the army seemed trying to dribble down this road. They tumbled teams about with a fine feeling that it was no matter so long as their column got to the front in time. This importance made their faces grave and stern, and the backs of the officers were very rigid. As the youth looked at them the black weight of his woe returned to him. He felt that he was regarding a procession of chosen beings. The separation was as great to him as if they had marched with weapons of flame and banners of sunlight. He could never be like them. He could have wept in his longings. He searched about in his mind for an adequate malediction for the indefinite cause, the thing upon which men turned the words of final blame. It, whatever it was, was responsible for him, he said. There lay the fault. The haste of the column to reach the battle seemed to the forlorn young man to be something much finer than stout fighting. Heroes, he thought, could find excuses in that long seething lane. They could retire with perfect self-respect and make excuses to the stars. He wondered what those men had eaten that they could be in such haste to force their way to grim chances of death. As he watched his envy grew until he thought that he wished to change lives with one of them, he would have liked to have used a tremendous force, he said, throw off himself and become a better. Swift pictures of himself, apart, yet in himself, came to him. A blue, desperate figure leading lurid charges with one knee forward and a broken blade high. A blue, determined figure standing before a crimson and steel assault getting calmly killed on a high place before the eyes of all. He thought of the magnificent pathos of his dead body. These thoughts uplifted him. He felt the quiver of war desire. In his ears he heard the ring of victory. He knew the frenzy of a rapid, successful charge, the music of the trampling feet, the sharp voices, the clanking arms of the column near him made him soar on the red wings of war. For a few moments he was sublime. He thought that he was about to start for the front. Indeed he saw a picture of himself, dust-stained, haggard, panting, flying to the front at the proper moment to seize and throttle the dark, leering witch of calamity. Then the difficulties of the thing began to drag at him. He hesitated, balancing awkwardly on one foot. He had no rifle. He could not fight with his hands, said he resentfully to his plan. Well, rifles could be had for the picking. They were extraordinarily profuse. Also he continued it would be a miracle if he found his regiment. Well, he could fight with any regiment. He started forward slowly. He stepped as if he expected to tread upon some explosive thing. Doubts and he were struggling. He would truly be a worm if any of his comrades should see him returning thus, the marks of his flight upon him. There was a reply that the intent fighters did not care for what happened rearward, saving that no hostile bayonets appeared there. In the battle blur his face would, in a way, be hidden, like the face of a cowled man. But then he said that his tireless fate would bring forth, when the strife lulled for a moment, a man to ask of him an explanation. In imagination he felt the scrutiny of his companions as he painfully labored through some lies. Eventually his courage expended itself upon these objections. The debates drained him of his fire. He was not cast down by this defeat of his plan, for upon studying the affair carefully he could not but admit that the objections were very formidable. Furthermore various ailments had begun to cry out. In their presence he could not persist in flying high with the wings of war. They rendered it almost impossible for him to see himself in a heroic light. He tumbled headlong. He discovered that he had a scorching thirst. His face was so dry and grimy that he thought he could feel his skin crackle. Each bone of his body had an ache in it and seemingly threatened to break with each movement. His feet were like two sores. Also his body was calling for food. It was more powerful than a direct hunger. There was a dull, weight-like feeling in his stomach and when he tried to walk his head swayed and he tottered. He could not see with distinctness small patches of green mist floated before his vision. While he had been tossed by many emotions he had not been aware of ailments. Now they beset him and made him clamor. As he was at last compelled to pay attention to them his capacity for self-hate was multiplied. In despair he declared that he was not like those others. He now conceded it to be impossible that he should ever become a hero. He was a craven loon. Those pictures of glory were piteous things. He groaned from his heart and went staggering off. A certain moth-like quality within him kept him in the vicinity of the battle. He had a great desire to see and to get news. He wished to know who was winning. He told himself that, despite his unprecedented suffering he had never lost his greed for a victory. Yet he said, in a half-apologetic manner to his conscience he could not but know that a defeat for the army this time might mean many favorable things for him. The blows of the enemy would splinter regiments into fragments. Thus many men of courage, he considered, would be obliged to desert the colors and scurry-like chickens. He would appear as one of them. They would be sullen brothers in distress. And he could then easily believe he had not run any farther or faster than they. And if he himself could believe in his virtuous perfection he conceived that there would be small trouble in convincing all others. He said, as if an excuse for this hope, that previously the army had encountered great defeats and in a few months had shaken off all blood and tradition of them, emerging as bright and valiant as a new one, thrusting out of sight the memory of disaster and appearing with the valor and confidence of unconquered legions. The shrilling voices of the people at home would pipe dissimally for a time, but various generals were usually compelled to listen to these diddies. He, of course, felt no compunctions for proposing a general as a sacrifice. He could not tell who the chosen for the barbs might be so he could center no direct sympathy upon him. The people were afar, and he did not conceive public opinion to be accurate at long range. It was quite probable they would hit the wrong man who, after he had recovered from his amazement, would perhaps spend the rest of his days in writing replies to the songs of his alleged failure. It would be very unfortunate, no doubt, but in this case a general was of no consequence to the youth. In the defeat there would be a roundabout vindication of himself. He thought it would prove in a manner that he had fled early because of his superior powers of perception. A serious prophet, upon predicting a flood, should be the first man to climb a tree. This would demonstrate that he was indeed a seer. A moral vindication was regarded by the youth as a very important thing. Without Sav he could not, he thought, wear the sore badge of his dishonor through life. With his heart continually assuring him that he was despicable he could not exist through his actions apparent to all men. If the army had gone gloriously on he would be lost. If the din meant that now his army's flags were tilted forward he was a condemned wretch. He would be compelled to doom himself to isolation. If the men were advancing their indifferent feet were trampling upon his chances for a successful life. As these thoughts went rapidly through his mind he turned upon them and tried to thrust them away. He denounced himself as a villain. He said that he was the most unutterably selfish man in existence. His mind pictured the soldiers who would place their defiant bodies before the spear of the yelling battle fiend. And as he saw their dripping corpses on an imagined field he said that he was their murderer. Again he thought that he wished he were dead. He believed that he envied a corpse. Thinking of the slain he achieved a great contempt for some of them as if they were guilty for thus becoming lifeless. They might have been killed by lucky chances, he said, before they had had opportunities to flee or before they had been really tested. Yet they would receive laurels from tradition. He cried out bitterly that their crowns were stolen and their robes of glorious memories were shams. However he still said that it was a great pity he was not as they. A defeat of the army had suggested itself to him as a means of escape from the consequences of his fall. He considered now, however, that it was useless to think of such a possibility. His education had been that success for that mighty blue machine was certain that it would make victories as a contrivance turns out buttons. He presently discarded all his speculations in the other direction. He returned to the creed of soldiers. When he perceived again that it was not possible for the army to be defeated he tried to rethink him of a fine tale which he could take back to his regiment and with it turn the expected shafts of derision. But as he mortally feared these shafts it became impossible for him to invent a tale he felt he could trust. He experimented with many schemes but threw them aside one by one as flimsy. He was quick to see vulnerable places in them all. Furthermore he was much afraid that some arrow of scorn might lay him mentally low before he could raise his protecting tail. He imagined the whole regiment saying, where's Henry Fleming? He didn't run, did he? Oh, my! He recalled various persons who would be quite sure to leave him no peace about it. They would doubtless question him with sneers and laugh at his stammering hesitation. In the next engagement they would try to keep watch of him to discover when he would run. Wherever he went in camp he would encounter insolent and lingeringly cruel stares. As he imagined himself passing near a crowd of comrades he could hear one say, there he goes. Then as if the heads were moved by one muscle all the faces were turned toward him with wide derisive grins. He seemed to hear someone make a humorous remark in a low tone. The others all crowed and cackled. He was a slang phrase. End of Chapter XI. This recording is in the public domain. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recording are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Aaron Thebedu. The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane, Chapter XII. The column that had butted stoutly at the obstacles in the roadway was barely out of the youth site before he saw dark waves of men come sweeping out of the woods and down through the fields. He knew at once that the seal fibers had been washed from their hearts. They were bursting from their coats and their equipment as from entanglements. They charged down upon him like terrified buffaloes. Behind them blue smoke curled and clouded above the treetops and through the thickets he could sometimes see a distant pink glare. The voices of the cannon were clamoring an interminable chorus. The youth was horror stricken. He stared in agony and amazement. He forgot that he was engaged in combating the universe. He threw aside his mental pamphlets on the philosophy of the retreated and rules for the guidance of the damned. The fight was lost. The dragons were coming with invincible strides. The army, helpless in the matted thickets and blinded by the overhanging night was going to be swallowed. That animal, war, the blood swollen god would have bloated fill. Within him something bade to cry out. He had the impulse to make a rallying speech to sing a battle hymn, but he could only get his tongue to call into the air. Why, why, what, what's the matter? Soon he was in the midst of them. They were leaping and scampering all about him. Their blanched phages shone in the dusk. They seemed for the most part to be very burly men. The youth turned from one to another of them as they galloped along. As incoherent questions were lost, they were heedless of his appeals. They did not seem to see him. They sometimes gabbled insanely. One huge man was asking of the sky, Say, where did Plank road? Where did Plank road? It was as if he had lost a child. He wept in his pain and dismay. Presently men were running hither and thither in all ways, the artillery booming forward, rearward and on the flanks made jumble of ideas of direction. Landmarks had vanished into the gathered gloom. The youth began to imagine that he had got into the center of the tremendous quarrel and he could perceive no way out of it. From the mouths of the fleeing men came a thousand wild questions, but no one made answers. The youth, after rushing about and throwing interrogations at the heedless bands or retreating infantry, finally clutched a man by the arm. They swung around face to face. Why, why, stammered the youth struggling with his balking tongue. Let go me, let go me. His face was livid and his eyes were rolling uncontrolled. He was heaving and panting. He still grasped his rifle, perhaps having forgotten to release his hold upon it. He tugged frantically and the youth being compelled to lean forward was dragged several paces. Let go me, let go me. Why, why, stammered the youth. Well then, bawled the man in a lurid rage, he adroitly and fiercely swung his rifle. It crushed upon the youth's head. The youth's fingers had turned to paste upon the other's arm. The energy was smitten from his muscles. He saw the flaming wings of lightning flash before his vision. There was a deafening rumble of thunder within his head. Suddenly his legs seemed to die. He sank writhing to the ground. He tried to arise. In his efforts against the numbing pain he was like a man wrestling with a creature of the air. There was a sinister struggle. Sometimes he would achieve a position where he would laugh erect, battle with the air for a moment and then fall again, grabbing at the grass. His face was of a clammy pallor. Deep groans were wrenched from him. At last, with a twisting movement, he got upon his hands and knees and from thence like a babe trying to walk to his feet. Pressing his hands to his temples he went lurching over the grass. He fought an intense battle with his body. His dulled senses wished him to swoon and he opposed them stubbornly. He thought he was going to get to the ground with his hands and mutilations if he should fall upon the field. He went tall soldier fashion. He imagined secluded spots where he could fall and be unmolested. To search for one he strove against the tide of pain. Once he put his hand to the top of his head and timidly touched the wound. The scratching pain of the contact made him draw a long breath through his clenched teeth. His fingers were dabbled with blood. The burying horses were lashed toward the front. Once a young officer on his bisplash charger nearly ran him down. He turned and watched the mass of guns, men and horses sweeping in a wide curve toward a gap in the fence. The officer was making excited motions with a gauntlet at hand. The guns followed the team with an air of unwillingness of being dragged by the heels. Some officers of the scattered infantry were cursing and railing like fish wives. Their scolding voices could be heard above the din. The unspeakable jumble in the roadway rode a squadron of cavalry. The faded yellow of their faces shone brightly. There was a mighty altercation. The artillery was assembling as if for a conference. The blue haze of evening was upon the field. The lines of forest were long purple shadows. One cloud lay along the western sky partly smothering the red. As the youth left the scene behind him he heard the guns suddenly roar out. He imagined them shaking in a black rage. They belched and howled like brass devils guarding a gate. The soft air was filled with the tremendous remonstrance. With it came the shattering peel of opposing infantry. Turning to look behind him he could see sheets of orange light illumin the shadowy distance. There were subtle and sudden lightnings in the far air. At times he thought he could see heaving masses of men. He hurried on into the dusk. The day had faded until he could barely distinguish place for his feet. The purple darkness was filled with men who lectured and jabbered. Sometimes he could see them gesticulating against the blue and somber sky. There seemed to be a great ruck of men and munitions spread about in the forests and in the fields. The little narrow roadway now lay lifeless. There were overturned wagons like sun dried boulders. The bed of the former torrent was choked with the bodies of horses and splintered parts of war machines. It had come to pass that his wound pained him but little. He was afraid to move rapidly however for a dread of deserving it. He took many precautions against stumbling. He was filled with anxiety and his face was pinched and drawn in anticipation of the pain of any sudden mistake of his feet in the gloom. His thoughts as he walked fixed intently upon his hurt. There was a cool liquid feeling about it and he imagined blood moving slowly down and under his hair. His head seemed swollen to a size that made him think his neck to be inadequate. The new silence of his wound made much worryment. The little blistering voices of pain that had called out from his scalp were heard. He thought, definite in their expression of danger. By them he believed he could measure his plight. But when they remained ominously silent he became frightened and imagined terrible fingers that clutched into his brain. Amid it he began to reflect upon various incidents and conditions of the past. He bethought him of certain meals his mother had cooked at home in which those dishes of which he was particularly fond had occupied prominent positions. He saw the spread table. They were glowing in the warm light from the stove. Two, he remembered how he and his companions used to go from the school house to the bank of a shaded pool. He saw his clothes and distorted the array upon the grass of the bank. He felt the swash of the fragrant water upon his body. The leaves of the overhanging maple rustled with melody in the wind of useful summer. He was overcome presently by a dragging weariness. His head hung forward and his shoulders were stooped as if you were bearing a great bundle. He held continuous arguments as to whether he should lie down and sleep at some near point or force himself on until he reached a certain haven. He often tried to dismiss the question but his body persisted in rebellion and his senses nagged at him like pampered babies. At last he heard a cheery voice near his shoulder. You seem to be in a pretty bad way boy. The youth did not look up but he assented with thick tongue. The owner of the cheery voice took him firmly by the arm. With a round lap, I'm going your way. The hull gang is going your way. And I guess I can give you a lift. They began to walk like a drunken man and his friend. As they went along, the man questioned the youth and assisted him with the replies like one manipulating the mind of a child. Sometimes he interjected anecdotes. What regiment do you belong to? Eh? What's that? The 304th in New York? Why, what core is that in? Oh, it is? I thought they wasn't engaged today. They're way over in the center. Oh, there was, eh? Well, pretty nearly everybody got their share fighting today. By dad, I gave myself up for dead in a number of times. There was shooting here and shooting there and hollering here and hollering there in the damn darkness until I couldn't tell to save my soul which side I was on. Sometimes I thought I was sure enough from Ohio and other times I could have swore I was from the bitter end to the bitter end. It was the most mixed up darn thing I ever seen. And these here hull woods is a regular mess. It'll be a miracle if we find our regiments tonight. Pretty soon though we'll meet up plenty of guards and provost guards and one thing and another. Ho! There they go with an officer, I guess. Look at his, look at his hand a dragon. He's got all the war he wants, I bet. He won't be talking so big about his reputation and all when they go to sawn off his leg. Poor fella. My brother's got whiskers just like that. How did you get way over here anyhow? Your regiment is a long way from here, ain't it? Well, I guess we can find it. You know, there was a boy killed in my company today that I thought the world of and all. Jack was a nice fella by ginger it hurt like thunder to see old Jack just get knocked flat. He was a standing pretty peaceable first bell, though there were men running every way all around us and while he was a standing like that long come a big fat fella. He began to peck at Jack's elbow when he says Say, where's the road to the river? And Jack, he never paid no attention and the fella kept on pecking at his elbow and saying, say, where's the road to the river? Jack was looking ahead all the time trying to see the Johnny's coming in through the woods and he never paid no attention to this big fat fella for a long time. But at last he turned around and he says ah go to hell and find the road to the river. And just then a shot slapped him bang on the side of the head. He was a sergeant too, then was his last words thunder I wish he was sure of finding our regiments tonight it's going to be a long hunt but I guess we can do it. In the search which followed the man of the cheery voice seemed to the youth to possess a wand of a magic kind he threaded the mazes of the tangled forest with a strange fortune and encounters with guards and patrols he displayed the keenness of a detective and the color of a gammon. Obstacles fell before him and he became of assistance the youth with his chin still on his breast stood woodenly by while his companion beat waves and means out of selling things the forest seemed a vast hive of men buzzing about in frantic circles but the cheery man conducted the youth without mistakes until at last he began to chuckle with glee and sell satisfaction ah there you are see that fire the youth nodded stupidly there's where your regiment is and now good bye old boy good luck to you a warm and strong hand clasped the youth's languid fingers for an instant and then he heard a cheerful and audacious whistling as the man showed away as he who had so befriended him was thus passing out of his life it suddenly occurred to the youth that he had not once seen his face end of chapter 12 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 Marty Schwartz the red badge of courage by Stephen Crane chapter 13 the youth went slowly toward the fire indicated by his departed friend as he reeled he thought him of the welcome his comrades would give him he had a conviction that he would soon feel in his sore heart the barbed missiles of ridicule he had no strength to invent a tail he would be a soft target he made vague plans to go off into the deeper darkness and hide but they were all destroyed by the voices of exhaustion and pain from his body his ailments clamoring forced him to seek the place of food and rest he swung unsteadily toward the fire he could see the forms of men throwing black shadows in the red light and as he went nearer it became known to him in some way that the ground was strewn with sleeping men of a sudden he confronted a black and monstrous figure a rifle barrel caught some glinting beams HALT! HALT! he was dismayed for a moment but he presently thought that he recognized the nervous voice as he stood tottering before the rifle barrel he called out why hello, Wilson you, you here the rifle was lowered to a position of caution and the loud soldier came slowly forward he peered into the youth's face that you Henry yes it's me well hello boy who said the other by ginger I'm glad to see you I give you up for a goner I thought you was dead sure enough there was a husky emotion in his voice the youth found that now he could barely stand upon his feet there was a sudden sinking of his forces he thought he must hasten to produce his tail to protect him from the missiles already on the lips of his redoubtable comrades so staggering before the loud soldier he began yes, yes I've I've had an awful time I've been all over way over on the right terrible fighting over there I had an awful time I got separated from the regiment over on the right I got shot in the head I never see such fighting awful time I don't see how I could have got separated from the regiment I got shot too his friend had stepped forward quickly what you got shot why didn't you say so first poor old boy we must hold on a minute what am I doing I'll call Simpson another figure at that moment loomed in the gloom I don't see it was the corporal who you talking to Wilson he demanded his voice was anger toned who you talking to you had adjourned a sentinel why hello Henry you here why I thought you was dead four hours ago great Jerusalem they keep turning up every ten minutes or so we thought we'd lost 42 men by straight count but if they keep on coming this way all back by morning yet where was you over on the right I got separated began the youth with considerable glibness but his friend had interrupted hastily yes and he got shot in the head and he's in a fix and we must see to him right away he rested his rifle in the hollow of his left arm and his right around the youth shoulder gee it must hurt like thunder the youth leaned heavily upon his friend yes it hurts hurts a good deal he replied there was a faltering in his voice oh said the corporal he linked his arm and the youth and drew him forward come on Henry I'll take care of you as they went on together the loud private called out after them put him to sleep in my blank and hold on a minute here's my canteen it's full of coffee look at his head by the fire and see how it looks maybe it's a pretty bad one when I get relieved in a couple of minutes I'll be over there and see to him the youth's senses were so deadened that his friend's voice sounded from afar and he could scarcely feel the pressure of the corporal's arm he submitted passively to the ladders with strength his head was in the old manner hanging forward upon his breast his knees wobbled the corporal led him to the glare of the fire now Henry he said let's have a look at your old head the youth said obediently in the corporal laying aside his rifle began to fumble in the bushy hair of his comrade he was obliged to turn the others head so that the full flush of the firelight would beam upon it he buried his mouth with a critical air he drew back his lips and whistled through his teeth when his fingers came in contact with a splashed blood and the rare wound ah here we are he said he awkwardly made further investigations just as I thought he added presently you've been grazed by a ball it's raised a queer lump just as if some feller had lambed you on the head with a club leading a long time ago the most about it is that in the morning you'll feel that a number 10 hat wouldn't fit you and your head will be all head up and feel as dry as burnt pork and you may get a lot of other sicknesses too by morning you can't never tell still I don't much think so it's just a damn good belt on the head and nothing more now you just sit here and don't move while I go route out the relief then I'll send Wilson to take Kerry the corporal went away the youth remained on the ground like a parcel he stared with a vacant look into the fire after a time he aroused for some part and the things about him began to take form he saw that the ground and the deep shadows was cluttered with men sprawling in every conceivable posture glancing narrowly into the more distant darkness he caught occasional glimpses of visages that loomed pallid and ghostly lit with a phosphorescent glow these faces expressed in their lines the deep stupor of the tired soldiers they made them appear like men drunk with wine this bit of forest might have appeared to an ethereal wanderer as a scene of the result of some frightful debauch on the other side of the fire the youth observed an officer asleep seated bolt upright with his back against a tree there was something perilous in his position badgered by dreams perhaps he swayed with little bounces and stars like an old toddy stricken grandfather in a chimney corner dust and stains were upon his face his lower jaw hung down as if lacking strength to assume its normal position he was the picture of an exhausted soldier after a feast of war he had evidently gone to sleep with his sword in his arms these two had slumbered in an embrace but the weapon had been allowed in time to fall unheated to the ground the brass-mounted hill lay in contact with some parts of the fire within the gleam of rose and orange light from the burning sticks were other soldiers snoring and heaving or lying death-like in slumber a few pairs of legs were stuck forth rigid and straight the shoes displayed the mud or dust of marches and bits of rounded trousers protruding from the blankets showed wrents and tears from hurried pitchings through the dense brambles the fire cackled musically from its swelled light smoke overhead the foliage moved softly the leaves with their faces turned toward the blaze were colored shifting hues of silver often edged with red far off to the right through window in the forest could be seen a handful of stars lying like glittering pebbles on the black level of the night occasionally in this low arched hall a soldier would arouse and turn his body to a new position the experience of his sleep having taught him of uneven and objectionable places upon the ground under him or perhaps he would lift himself to a sitting posture blink at the fire for an unintelligent moment throw a swift glance at his prostrate companion and then cuddle down again with a grunt of content the youth sat in a forlorn heap until his friend the loud young soldier came swinging two canteens by their light strings well now Henry Old Boy said latter we'll have you fixed up in just about a minute he had the bustling ways of an amateur nurse he fussed around the fire and stirred the sticks to brilliant exertions he made his patient drink largely from the canteen that contained the coffee it was to the youth a delicious draft he tilted his head a far back and held the canteen long to his lips the cool mixture went caressingly down his blistered throat having finished he sighed with comfortable delight the loud young soldier watched his comrade with an air of satisfaction he later produced an extensive from his pocket he folded it into a manner of bandage and sourced water from the other canteen upon the middle of it this crude arrangement he bound over the youth's head tying the ends in a queer knot at the back of his neck there he said moving off and surveying his deed he looked like the devil but a bitch would feel better the youth contemplated his friend with grateful eyes upon his aching and swelling head the cold cloth was like a tender woman's hand you don't holler and say nothing remarked his friend approvingly I know I'm a blacksmith that taken care of sick folks and you never squeaked you're good in Henry most a man would have been in the hospital long ago a shot in the head ain't fooling business the youth made no reply but began to fumble with the buttons of his jacket well come now continue with his friend come on I must put you to bed and see that you get a good night's rest the other got carefully erect and the loud young soldier led him among the sleeping forms lying in groups and rows presently he stooped and picked up his blankets he spread the rubber wind upon the ground and placed the woollen one about the youth's shoulders there now he said go down and get some sleep the youth, with his manner of dog-like obedience got carefully down like a crone stooping he stretched out with a murmur of relief and comfort the ground felt like the softest couch but of a sudden he ejaculated hold on a minute where you going to sleep his friend waved his hand impatiently right down there by well, but hold on a minute continued the youth what you going to sleep in I've got your the loud young soldier snarled shut up and go to sleep don't be making a damn fool of yourself he said severely after the reproof the youth said no more an exquisite drowsiness had spread through him the warm comfort of the blanket enveloped him he waded gentle langer his head fell forward on his crooked arm and his weighted lids went softly down over his eyes hearing a splatter of musketry from the distance he wondered indifferently if those men sometimes slept he gave a long sigh snuggled down into his blanket and in a moment was like his comrades End of Chapter 13 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 14 when the youth awoke it seemed to him that he had been asleep for a thousand years and he felt sure that he opened his eyes upon an unexpected world grey mists were slowly shifting before the first efforts of the sun rays an impending splendor could be seen in the eastern sky an icy dew had chilled his face and immediately upon arousing he curled farther down into his blanket he stared for a while at the leaves overhead moving in a heraldic wind of the day the distance was splintering and blaring with the noise of fighting there was in the sound an expression of a deadly persistency as if it had not begun and was not to cease about him were the rose and groups of men that he had dimly seen the previous night they were getting a last draft of sleep before the awakening gaunt, care-worn features and dusty figures were made plain by this quaint light at the dawning but it dressed the skin of the men in corpse-like hues and made the tangled limbs appear pulseless and dead the youth started up a little with a cry when his eyes first swept over this motionless mass of men thick spread upon the ground pallid and in strange postures his disordered mind interpreted the hall of the forest as a charnel place he believed for an instant that he was in the house of the dead and he did not dare to move lest these corpses start up squalling and squawking in a second however he achieved his proper mind he swore a complicated oath at himself he saw that this somber picture was not a fact of the present but a mere prophecy he heard then the noise of a fire crackling briskly in the cold air and turning his head he saw his friend pottering busily about a small blaze a few other figures moved in the fog and he heard the hard cracking of axe blows suddenly there was a hollow rumble of drums a distant bugle sang faintly similar sounds varying in strength came from near and far over the forest the bugles called to each other like brazen game cocks the near thunder of the regimental drums rolled the body of men in the woods rustled there was a general uplifting of heads a murmuring of voices broke upon the air in it there was much base of grumbling oaths strange gods were addressed in condemnation of the early hours necessary to correct war an officer's peremptory tenor rang out and quickened the stiffened movement of the men the tangled limbs unraveled the corpse youth faces were hidden behind fists that twisted slowly in the eye sockets the youth sat up and gave vent to an enormous yawn thunder he remarked petulantly he rubbed his eyes and then putting up his hand felt carefully the bandage over his wound his friend perceiving him to be awake came from the fire well Henry old man how do you feel this morning he demanded the youth yawned again then he puckered his mouth to a little pucker his head in truth felt precisely like a melon there was an unpleasant sensation at his stomach oh lord I feel pretty bad he said thunder exclaimed the other I hoped you'd feel all right this morning let's see the bandage I guess it slipped he began to tinker at the wound in rather a clumsy way until the youth exploded gosh darn it he said in sharp irritation you're the hangedest man I ever saw you wear moths on your hands why in good thunderation can't you be more easy I'd rather you'd stand off and throw guns at it now go slow and don't act as if you was nailing down carpet he glared with insolent command at his friend but the letter answered soothingly well well come now and get some grub he said then maybe you'll feel better at the fireside the loud young soldier watched over his comrades once he was very busy marshalling the little black vagabonds of tin cups and pouring into them the streaming iron colored mixture from a small and sooty tin pail he had some fresh meat which he roasted hurriedly on a stick he sat down and then contemplated the youth's appetite with glee the youth took note of a remarkable change in his comrades since those days of camp life upon the river bank he seemed to know more to be continually regarding the proportions of his personal prowess he was not furious at small words that pricked his conceits he was no more a loud young soldier there was about him now a fine reliance he showed a quiet belief in his purposes and his abilities and this inward confidence evidently enabled him to be indifferent to the little words of other men aimed at him the youth reflected he had been used to regarding his comrade as a blatant child with an audacity grown from his inexperience thoughtless, headstrong, jealous and filled with a tensile courage a swaggering babe accustomed to strut in his own door yard the youth wondered where had been born these new eyes when his comrade had made the great discovery that there were many men who would refuse to be subjected by him apparently the other had now climbed a peak of wisdom from which he could perceive himself as a very wee thing and the youth saw that ever after it would be easier to live in his friend's neighborhood his comrade balanced his ebony coffee cup on his knee well Henry he said what do you think the chances are do you think we'll wallop them the youth considered for a moment day before yesterday he finally replied with boldness you would have bet you'd lick the whole kit and kaboodle all by yourself his friend looked a trifle amazed would I he pondered well perhaps I would he decided at last he stared humbly at the fire the youth was quite disconcerted at this surprising reception of his remarks oh no you wouldn't either he said hastily trying to retrace but the other made a deprecating gesture oh you needn't mind Henry he said I believe I was a pretty big fool in those days he spoke as after a lapse of years there was a little pause all the officers say we've got the ribs in a pretty tight box said the friend clearing his throat in a commonplace way they all seem to think we've got them just where we want them I don't know about that the youth replied what I seen over on the right makes me think it was the other way about from where I was it looked as if we was getting a good pounding yesterday do you think so I thought we handled him pretty rough yesterday not a bit said the youth why lord man you didn't see nothing of the fight why then a sudden thought came to him oh Jim Conklin's dead his friend started what is he Jim Conklin the youth spoke slowly yes he's dead shot in the side you don't say so Jim Conklin poor cause all about them were other small fires surrounded by men with their little black utensils from one of these near came sun-shot voices in a row it appeared that two light-footed soldiers had been teasing a huge bearded man causing him to spill coffee upon his blue knees the man had gone into a rage and had sworn comprehensively stung by his language his tormentors had immediately bristled at him presenting unjust oaths possibly there was going to be a fight the friend arose and went over to them making pacific motions with his arms oh here now boys what's the use he said we'll be at the ribs in less than an hour what's the good fighting amongst ourselves one of the light-footed soldiers turned upon him red-faced and violent you needn't come around here with your preaching you don't approve a fight and since Charlie Morgan licked you but I don't see what business is here is it yours or anybody else well it ain't said the friend mildly still I hate to see there was a tangled argument well he said the two indicating their opponent with accusative forefingers the huge soldier was quite purple with rage he pointed at the two soldiers with his great hand extended claw-like say but during this argumentative time the desire to deal blows seemed to pass although they said much to each other finally the friend returned to his old seat in a short while the three antagonists could be seen together in an amiable bunch Jimmy Rogers says I'll have to fight him after the battle today announce the friend as he again seated himself he says he don't allow no interfering in his business I hate to see the boys fighting amongst themselves the youth laughed ha ha you're changed a good bit you ain't at all like you was I remember when you and that Irish fella ha ha ha he stopped and laughed again no I didn't use to be that way said his friend thoughtfully that's true enough well I didn't mean that began the youth the friend made another deprecatory gesture oh you needn't mind Henry there was another little pause the regiment lost over half the men yesterday remarked the friend eventually I thought of course they was all dead but laws they kept a coming back last night until it seems after all we didn't lose but a few they'd been scattered all over wandering around in the woods fighting with other regiments and everything just like you done so said the youth so said the youth end of chapter 14 read by Sandra in Wales United Kingdom June 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 15 he was standing at order arms at the side of a lane waiting for the command to march when suddenly the youth remembered the little packet enwrapped in a faded yellow envelope which the loud young soldier with lububrious words had entrusted to him it made him start he uttered an exclamation and turned towards his comrade Wilson what his friend at his side in the ranks was thoughtfully staring down the road from some cause his expression was very meek the youth regarding him with side long glances felt impelled to change his purpose oh nothing he said his friend turned his head in some surprise why what was you going to say oh nothing repeated the youth he resolved not to deal the little blow it was sufficient that the fact made him glad it was not necessary to knock his friend on the head with the misguided packet he had been possessed of much fear of his friend for he saw how easily questionings could make holes in his feelings lately he had assured himself that the altered comrade would not tantalize him with a persistent curiosity but he felt certain that during the first period of leisure his friend would ask him to relate his adventures of the previous day he now rejoiced in the possession of a small weapon with which he could prostrate his comrade at the first signs of a cross examination he was master it would now be he who could laugh and shoot the shafts of derision the friend had in a week hour spoken with sobs of his own death he had delivered a melancholy oration previous to his funeral and had doubtless in the packet of letters presented various keepsakes to relatives but he had not died and thus he had delivered himself into the hands of the youth the latter felt immensely superior to his friend but he inclined to condescension he adopted toward him an air of patronizing good humor his self-pride was now entirely restored in the shade of its flourishing growth he stood with braced and self-confident legs and since nothing could now be discovered he did not shrink from an encounter with the eyes of judges and allowed no thoughts of his own to keep him from an attitude of manfulness he had performed his mistakes in the dark so he was still a man indeed when he remembered the fortunes of yesterday and looked at them from a distance he began to see something fine there he had licensed to be pompous and veteran-like his panting agonies of the past he put out of his sight in the present he declared to himself that it was only the doomed and the damned who roared with sincerity at circumstance few but they ever did it a man with a full stomach and the respect of his fellows had no business to scold about anything think to be wrong in the ways of the universe or even with the ways of society let the unfortunate's rail the others may play marbles he did not give a great deal of thought to these battles that lay directly before him it was not essential that he should plan his ways in regard to them he had been taught that many obligations of a life were easily avoided the lessons of yesterday had been that retribution was a laggard and blind with these facts before him he did not deem it necessary that he should become feverish over the possibilities of the ensuing 24 hours he could leave much to chance besides a faith in himself had secretly blossomed there was a little flower of confidence growing within him he was now a man of experience he had been out among the dragons he said and assured himself that they were not so hideous as he had imagined them also they were inaccurate they did not sting with precision a stout heart often defied and defying escaped and furthermore how could they kill him who was the chosen of gods and doomed to greatness he remembered how some of the men had run from the battle as he recalled their terror struck faces he felt a scorn for them they had surely been more fleet and more wild than was absolutely necessary they were weak mortals as for himself he had fled with discretion and dignity he was aroused from this reverie by his friend who having hitched about nervously and blinked at the trees for a time suddenly coughed in an introductory way and spoke Fleming the friend put his hand up to his mouth and coughed again he fidgeted in his jacket well he gulped at last I guess you might as well give me back them letters dark prickling blood had flushed into his cheeks and brow alright Wilson said the youth he loosened two buttons of his coat thrust in his hand and brought forth the packet as he extended it to his friend the latter's face was turned from him he had been slow in the act of producing the packet because during it he had been trying to invent a remarkable comment on the affair he could conjure up nothing of sufficient point he was compelled to allow his friend to escape unmolested with his packet and for this he took unto himself considerable credit it was a generous thing his friend at his side seemed suffering great shame as he contemplated him the youth felt his heart grow more strong and stout he had never been compelled to blush in such manner for his acts he was an individual of extraordinary virtues he reflected with condescending pity too bad too bad the poor devil it makes him feel tough after this incident and as he reviewed the battle pictures he had seen he felt quite competent to return home and make the hearts of the people glow with stories of war he could see himself in a room of warm tents telling tales to listener he could exhibit laurels they were insignificant still in a district where laurels were infrequent they might shine he saw his gaping audience picturing him as the central figure in blazing scenes and he imagined the consternation and the ejaculations of his mother and the young lady at the seminary as they drank his recitals their vague feminine formula for beloved ones doing brave deeds on the field of battle without risk of life would be destroyed End of Chapter 15 Read by Sandra in Wales United Kingdom June 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 16 A sputtering of musketry was always to be heard Later the canon had entered the dispute In the fog filled air the voices made a thudding sound The reverberations were continual This part of the world led a strange, battleful existence The youth's regiment was marched to relieve a command that had lain long in some damp trenches The men took positions behind a curving line of rifle pits that had been turned up like a large furrow along the lines of woods Before them was a level stretch of its short, deformed stumps From the woods beyond came the dull popping of the skirmishes and pickets, firing in the fog From the right came the noise of a terrific frock ha The men cuddled behind the small embankment and sat easy in attitudes awaiting their turn Many had their backs to the firing The youth's friend lay down buried his face in his arms and almost instantly it seemed he was in a deep sleep The youth leaned his breast against the brown dirt and peered over at the woods and up and down the line Curtains of these trees interfered with his ways of vision He could see the low line of trenches but for a short distance A few idle flags were perched on the dirt hills Beyond them were rows of dark bodies with a few heads sticking curiously over the top Always the noise of skirmishers came from the woods on the front and left and the din on the right were frightful proportions The guns were roaring without an instant's pause for breath It seemed that the cannon had come from all parts and were engaged in a stupendous wrangle It became impossible to make a sentence heard The youth wished to launch a joke A quotation from newspapers He desired to say All quiet on the wrap a hanok But the guns refused to permit even a comment upon their uproar He never successfully concluded the sentence But at last the guns stopped and among the men in the rifle pits rumors again flew, like birds But they were now for the most part black creatures who flapped their wings drearily near to the ground and refused to rise on any wings of hope The men's faces grew doleful from the interpreting of omens Tales of hesitation and uncertainty on the part of those in high place and responsibility came to their ears Stories of disaster were born into their minds with many proofs This din of musketry on the right growing like a released genie of sound expressed and emphasized the army's polite The men were disheartened and began to mutter They made gestures expressive of the sentence Oh, what can we do? And it could always be seen that they were bewildered by the alleged news and could not fully comprehend a defeat Before the grey mists had been totally obliterated by the sun rays the regiment was marching in a spread column that was retiring carefully through the woods The disordered, hurrying lines of the enemy could sometimes be seen down through the groves and little fields They were yelling, shrill and exultant At this site the youth forgot many personal matters and became greatly enraged He exploded in loud sentences But Jiminy were general by-lot of lunkheads More than one feller said that today observed a man His friend, recently aroused was still very drowsy He looked behind him until his mind took in the meaning of the movement Then he sighed Oh, well I suppose we got licked He remarked sadly The youth had a thought that it would not be handsome for him to freely condemn other men He made an attempt to restrain himself but the words upon his tongue were too bitter He presently began a long and intricate denunciation of the commander of the forces Maybe at what and all his fault, not altogether He did the best he knowed It's our luck to get licked often said his friend in a weary tone He was trudging along with stooped shoulders and shifting eyes like a man who has been caned and kicked Well, don't we fight like the devil? Don't we do all that men can? demanded the youth loudly He was secretly dumbfounded at this sentiment when it came from his lips For a moment his face lost its baller and he looked guiltily about him But no one questioned his right to deal in such words and presently he recovered his air of courage He went on to repeat a statement he had heard going from group to group at the camp that morning The brigadier said he never saw a new regiment fight the way we fought yesterday, didn't he? And we didn't do better than many another regiment, did we? You can't say it's this army's fault, can you? In his reply, the friend's voice was stern Of course not, he said No man dare say we don't fight like the devil No man will ever dare say it The boys fight like hell roosters but still still we don't have no luck Well then, if we fight like the devil and don't ever whip it must be the general's fault said the youth grandly and decisively And I don't see any sense in fighting and fighting and fighting yet always losing through some dirnd old lunkhead of a general A sarcastic man who was tramping at the youth's side then spoke lazily Maybe you think you fit the whole battle yesterday, Fleming, he remarked The speech pierced the youth Inwardly he was reduced to an abject pult by these chance words His legs quaked privately He cast a frightened glance at the sarcastic man Why, no, he hastened to say in a conciliating voice I don't think I fought the whole battle yesterday But the other seemed innocent of any deeper meaning Apparently he had no information It was merely his habit Oh, he replied He replied in the same tone of calm derision The youth, nevertheless, felt a threat His mind shrank from going near to the danger and thereafter he was silent The significance of the sarcastic man's words took from him all loud moods that would make him appear prominent He became suddenly a modest person There was low-toned talk among the troops The officers were impatient and snappy Their countenance is clouded with the tales of misfortune The troops sifting through the forest were sullen In the youth's company once a man's laugh rang out A dozen soldiers turned their faces quickly toward him and frowned with vague displeasure The noise of firing dogged their footsteps Sometimes it seemed to be driven a little way, but it always returned again with increased insolence The men muttered and cursed throwing black looks in its direction In a clear space the troops were at last halted Regiments and brigades, broken and detached through their encounters with thickets grew together again and lines were faced towards the pursuing bark of the enemy's infantry The noise, following like yelping of eager metallic hounds increased to a loud and joyous burst And then, as the sun went serenely up the sky, throwing illuminating rays into the gloomy thickets it broke forth into prolonged pealings The woods began to crackle as if a fire Whoop-ba-da-da-dee said a man, here we are everybody fighting, blood and destruction I was willing to bet they'd attack as soon as the sun got fairly up savagely asserted the lieutenant who commanded the youth's company He jerked without mercy at his little moustache, then he strode with dark dignity in the rear of his men who were lying down behind whatever protection they had collected A battery had trundled into position in the rear and was thoughtfully shelling the distance The regiment, unmolested as yet awaited the moment when the gray shadows of the woods before them should be slashed by the lines of flame There was much growling and swearing Good God the youth grumbled We're always being chased around like rats It makes me sick Nobody seems to know where we go or why we go We just get fired around from pillar to post and get licked here and get licked there and nobody knows what it's done for It makes a man feel like a damn kitten in a bag Now, I'd like to know what the eternal thunders we was marched into these woods for anyhow Unless it was to give the Rebs a regular pot shot at us We came in here and got our legs all tangled up in these cussed briars and then we began to fight and the Rebs had an easy time of it. Don't tell me it's just luck. I know better It's this dirt old the friend seemed jaded but he interrupted his comrade with a voice of calm confidence It'll turn out alright in the end, he said Oh, that devil it will You always talk like a dog-hanged parson. Don't tell me I know At this time there was an interposition by the savage-minded Lieutenant who was obliged to vent some of his inward dissatisfaction upon his men. You boys shut right up There's no need of your wasting your breath in long-winded arguments about this and that and the other You've been drawing like a lot of old hens. All you've got to do is fight and you'll get plenty of that to do in about ten minutes Less talking and more fighting is what's best for you boys I never saw such gablin jackasses He paused, ready to pounce upon any man who might have the temerity to reply. No words being said, he resumed his dignified pacing There's too much chin music and too little fighting in this war anyhow he said to them, turning his head for a final remark The day had grown more white until the sun shed his full presence upon the thronged forest A sort of a gust of battle came sweeping toward that part of the line where lay the youth's regiment The front shifted a trifle to meet it squarely. There was a weight In this part of the field there passed slowly the intense moments that preceded the tempest A single rifle flashed in a thicket before the regiment In an instant it was joined by many others There was a mighty song of clashes that went sweeping through the woods The guns in the rear aroused and enraged by shells that had been thrown bur-like at them suddenly involved themselves in a hideous altercation with another band of guns The battle roar settled to a rolling thunder which was a single long explosion In the regiment there was a peculiar kind of hesitation denoted in the attitudes of the men They were worn, exhausted slept but little and labored much They rolled their eyes towards the advancing battle as they stood awaiting the shock Some shrank and flinched They stood as men tied to stakes End of Chapter 16 Read by Sandra in Wales, United Kingdom June 2006 The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane Chapter 17 This advance of the enemy had seemed to the youth like a ruthless hunting He began to fume with rage and exasperation He beat his foot upon the ground and scowled with hate at the swirling smoke that was approaching like a phantom flood There was a maddening quality in this seeming resolution of the battle The battle roar The maddening quality in this seeming resolution of the foe to give him no rest to give him no time to sit down and think Yesterday he had fought and had fled rapidly There had been many adventures For today he felt that he had earned opportunities for contemplative repose He could have enjoyed portraying to uninitiated listeners various scenes at which he had been a witness or ably discussing the processes of war with other proved men Two, it was important that he should have time for physical recuperation He was sore and stiff from his experiences He had received his fill of all exertions and he wished to rest But those other men never seemed to grow weary They were fighting with their old speed He had a wild hate for the relentless foe Yesterday, when he had imagined the universe to be against him, he had hated it Little gods and big gods Today, he hated the army of the foe with the same great hatred He was not going to be badgered of his life like a kitten chased by boys, he said It was not well to drive men into final corners At those moments they could all develop teeth and claws He leaned and spoke into his friend's ear He menaced the woods with a gesture If they keep on chasing us by God they'd better watch out can't stand too much The friend twisted his head a calm reply If they keep on chasing us they'll drive us all into the river The youth cried out savagely at this statement He crouched behind a little tree with his eyes burning hatefully and his teeth set in a curl-like snarl The awkward bandage was still about his head and upon it, over his wound there was a spot of dry blood His hair was wondrously tousled and some straggling moving locks hung over the cloth of the bandage his forehead his jacket and shirt were open at the throat and exposed his young, bronzed neck There could be seen spasmodic gulpings at his throat His fingers twined nervously about his rifle He wished that it was an engine of annihilating power He felt that he and his companions were being taunted and derided from sincere convictions that they were poor and puny His knowledge of his inability to take vengeance for it made his rage into a dark and stormy specter that possessed him and made him dream of abominable cruelties The tormentors were flies sucking insolently at his blood and he thought that he would have given his life for a revenge of seeing their faces in pitiful plights The winds of battle had swept all about the regiment until the one rifle instantly followed by others flashed in its front A moment later, the regiment roared forth its sudden and valiant retort A dense wall of smoke settled down It was furiously slit and slashed by the knife-like fire from the rifles To the youth, the fighters resembled animals tossed for a death struggle into a dark pit There was a sensation that he and his fellows at bay were pushing back always pushing fierce onslaughts of creatures who were slippery Their beams of crimson seemed to get no purchase upon the bodies of their foes The latter seemed to evade them with ease and come through, between around and about with unopposed skill When in a dream it occurred to the youth that his rifle was an impotent stick He lost sense of everything but his hate His desire to smash into pulp the glittering smile of victory which he could feel upon the faces of his enemies The blue smoke swallowed line curled and writhed like a snake stepped upon It swung its ins to and fro in an agony of fear and rage The youth was not conscious that he was erect upon his feet He did not know the direction of the ground Indeed, once he even lost the habit of balance and fell heavily He was up again immediately One thought went through the chaos of his brain at the time He wondered if he had fallen because he had been shot but the suspicion flew away at once He did not think more of it He had taken up a first position behind the little tree with the direct determination to hold it against the world He had not deemed it possible that his army could that day succeed and from this he felt the ability to fight harder but the throng had surged in all ways until he lost directions and locations save that he knew where lay the enemy The flames bit him and the hot smoke broiled his skin His rifle barrel grew so hot that ordinarily he could not have borne it upon his palm but he kept on stuffing cartridges into it and pounding them with his clanking, bending ramrod If he aimed at some changing form through the smoke, he pulled the trigger with a fierce grunt as if he were dealing a blow of the fist with all his strength When the enemy seemed falling back before him and his fellows, he went instantly forward like a dog who, seeing his foes lagging turns and insists upon being pursued and when he was compelled to retire again he did it slowly sullenly, taking steps of wrathful despair Once, he in his intent hate was almost done and was firing all those near him had seized He was so engrossed in his occupation that he was not aware of Alul He was recalled by a horse lap and a sentence that came to his ears in a voice of contempt and amazement Ye infernal fool Don't you know enough to quit when there ain't anything to shoot at? Good God! He turned then and pausing with his rifle thrown half into position looked at the blue line of his comrades During this moment of leisure they seemed to all be engaged in staring with astonishment at him They had become spectators Turning to the front again he saw, under the lifted smoke a deserted ground He looked bewildered for a moment Then there appeared upon the glazed vacancy of his eyes a diamond point of intelligence Oh, he said comprehending He returned to his comrades and threw himself upon the ground He sprawled like a man who had been thrashed His flesh seemed strangely on fire and the blood in his ears He groped blindly for his canteen The lieutenant was crowing He seemed drunk with fighting He called out to the youth By heavens, if I had 10,000 wildcats like you I could tear the stomach out of this war in less than a week He puffed out his chest with large dignity as he said it Some of the men muttered and looked at the youth in awestruck ways It was plain that as he had gone on loading and firing and cursing without proper intermission they had found time to regard him and they now looked upon him as a war devil The friend came staggering to him There was some fright and dismay in his voice Are you all right, Fleming? Do you feel all right? There ain't nothing the matter with you, Henry Is there? No, said the youth with difficulty His throat seemed full of knobs and burrs These incidents made the youth ponder It was revealed to him that he had been a barbarian a beast He had fought like a pagan who defends his religion Regarding it, he saw that it was fine wild and in some ways easy He had been a tremendous figure, no doubt By this struggle he had overcome obstacles which he had admitted to be mountains They had fallen like paper peaks and he was now what he called a hero and he had not been aware of the process He had slept and awakening found himself a knight He lay and basked in the occasional stares of his comrades Their faces were buried in degrees of blackness from the burnt powder Some were utterly smudged They were reeking with perspiration and their breaths came hard and wheezing and from these soiled expanses they peered at him Hot work, hot work cried the lieutenant deliriously He walked up and down, restless and eager Sometimes his voice could be heard in a wild, incomprehensible laugh When he had a particularly profound thought upon the science of war he always unconsciously addressed himself to the youth There was some grim rejoicing by the men My thunder, I bet the Samuel never see a new regiment like us You bet, a dog, a woman and a walnut tree The more you beat them, the better they be That's like us Lost a pile or men they did If an old woman swept up the woods she'd get a dustpan full Yes, and if she'll come around again in about an hour she'll get a pile more The forest still bore its burden of clamor From off under the trees a glowing clatter of the musket tree Each distant thicket seemed a strange porcupine with quills of flame A cloud of dark smoke as from smoldering ruins went up toward the sun, now bright and gay in the blue, enameled sky End of Chapter 17 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 Jeff Robinson The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane 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 rest of the men strained for a bit of freshness and their throats craved 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 Who is it? Who is it? It's Jimmy 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 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 ye? 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 quartz 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 From their position as they again faced They could have comprehended 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 shown squarely through the leaves From the edifice, a tall, leaning tower of smoke went far 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 fire Occasional bullets buzzed in the air and spanged into tree trunks Wounded men and other stragglers were slinking 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 rang strongly at his chargers opened and foamy mouth and guided it with dexterous horsemanship past the men Scramble 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 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 The general, whom the boys knew as the commander of their division looked at the other officer and spoke coolly as if he were criticizing his clothes The enemies form an over there for another charge, he said It'll be directed against wider side and I fear they'll break through unless we work like thunder to stop them The other swore at his rest of horse and then cleared his throat He made a gesture toward his cap It'll be hailed to pay stopping them he said shortly 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? The officer who rode like a cowboy for an instant Well, he said I had to order in the 12th to help the 76th and I haven't really gotten any but there is the 304th They fight like a lot of mule drivers I can spare them best of any The youth and his friend exchanged glances of astonishment The general spoke sharply Get him ready then I'll watch developments from here and send you word when to start them It'll happen in five minutes The horse 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 shouted something in reply He smiled With scared faces, the youth 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 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 As the two boys approached the line the lieutenant perceived them and swelled with wrath Fleming, Wilson How long does it take you to get water? Anyhow Where you been to But his oration seized as he saw their eyes which were large with great tales We're going to charge We're going to charge Cried the youth's friend, hastening with his news Charge, said the lieutenant Charge Well, by God Now this is real fighting Over his soiled countenance there went a boastful smile Charge Well, by God A little group of soldiers surrounded the two youths Are we sure enough? Well, I'll be darned Charge, what fur, what at 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 and his friend spoke in reinforcement Not by a blame sight, he ain't lying We heard him 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 One man had a final objection How could you hear him talking But the men, for a large part, nodded admitting that previously the two friends had spoken truth They settled back into reposeful attitudes with heirs 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 A moment later, the officers began to hustle 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 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 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 headed 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 to 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 get swallowed End of Chapter 18