THE ragged line had respite
for some min- utes, 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 the
men. The voices of the cannon
were mingled in a long and interminable
row. It seemed difficult to live
in such an atmos- phere. The
chests 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 woe- ful complaints
of him upon the ground.
"Who is it?
Who is it?"
"It's Jimmie
Rogers. Jimmie Rogers."
When their eyes first encountered
him there was a sudden halt,
as if they feared to go near.
He was thrashing about in the
grass, twisting his
171 shuddering body into many
strange postures. He was screaming
loudly. This instant's hesita-
tion seemed to fill him with
a tremendous, fantas- tic 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 yeh?" "Bring me some,
too." "And me, too." He departed,
ladened. The youth went with
his friend, feeling a desire
to throw his heated body onto
the stream and, soaking there,
drink quarts.
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 to- ward the place
of the fighting, they could of
course comprehend a greater amount
of the bat- tle 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
mak- ing gray clouds, which were
filled with large flashes of
orange-colored flame. Over some
foli- age they could see the
roof of a house. One win- dow,
glowing a deep murder red, shone
squarely through the leaves.
From the edifice a tall lean-
ing 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 dis-
tant 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.
Near where they stood shells
were flip-flap- ping and hooting.
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
reined strongly at his charger's
opened and foamy mouth and guided
it with dexterous horsemanship
past the man. The latter scram-
bled 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. An- other
officer, riding with the skillful
abandon of a cowboy, galloped
his horse to a position directly
before the general. The two unnoticed
foot sol- diers made a little
show of going on, but they lingered
near in the desire to overhear
the con- versation. Perhaps,
they thought, some great inner
historical things would be said.
The general,
whom the boys knew as the com-
mander of their
division, looked at the other
officer and spoke coolly, as
if he were criticising his clothes. "Th'
enemy's formin' over there for
another charge," he said. "It'll
be directed against Whiterside,
an' I fear they'll break through
there unless we work like thunder
t' stop them."
The other swore
at his restive horse, and then
cleared his throat.
He made a gesture toward his
cap. "It'll be hell t' pay stoppin'
them," he said shortly.
"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 reflected
for an instant. "Well," he
said, "I had to order in th'
12th to help th' 76th, an' I
haven't really got any. But there's
th' 304th. They fight like a
lot 'a mule drivers. I can spare
them best of any."
The youth and his friend exchanged
glances of astonishment.
The general
spoke sharply. "Get
'em ready, then. I'll watch developments
from here, an' send you word
when t' start them. It'll happen
in five minutes."
As the other
officer tossed his fingers
toward his cap and
wheeling his horse, started away,
the general called out to him
in a sober voice: "I don't believe
many of your mule drivers will
get back."
The other shouted something
in reply. He smiled.
With scared faces, the youth
and his compan- ion hurried back
to the line.
These happenings had occupied
an incredibly short time, yet
the youth felt that in them he
had been made aged. New eyes
were given to him. And the most
startling thing was to learn
sud- denly that he was very insignificant.
The officer spoke of the regiment
as if he referred to a broom.
Some part of the woods needed
sweep- ing, 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
lieu- tenant perceived
them and swelled with wrath. "Fleming--Wilson--how
long does it take yeh to git
water, anyhow--where yeh been
to."
But his oration
ceased as he saw their eyes,
which were large
with great tales. "We're goin'
t' charge--we're goin' t' charge!" cried
the youth's friend, hastening
with his news.
"Charge?" said the lieutenant. "Charge?
Well, b'Gawd! Now, this is real
fightin'." Over his soiled countenance
there went a boastful smile. "Charge?
Well, b'Gawd!"
A little group
of soldiers surrounded the
two youths. "Are
we, sure 'nough? Well, I'll be
derned! Charge? What fer? What
at? Wil- son, you're lyin'."
"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 re-enforcement. "Not
by a blame sight, he ain't lyin'.
We heard 'em talkin'."
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 yeh hear 'em talkin'?" But
the men, for a large part, nodded,
admitting that previously the
two friends had spoken truth.
They settled back into reposeful
attitudes with airs of having
accepted the matter. And they
mused upon it, with a hundred
varieties of expression. It was
an engrossing thing to think
about. Many tightened their belts
carefully and hitched at their
trousers.
A moment later the officers
began to bustle among the men,
pushing them into a more com-
pact 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 sol- diers were bended and
stooped like sprinters be- fore
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
had its small affair to itself.
The youth,
turning, shot a quick, inquiring
glance at his
friend. The latter returned to
him the same manner of look.
They were the only ones who possessed
an inner knowledge. "Mule drivers--hell
t' pay--don't believe many will
get back." It was an ironical
secret. Still, they saw no hesitation
in each other's faces, and they
nod- ded a mute and unprotesting
assent when a shag- gy man near
them said in a meek voice: "We'll
git swallowed."
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