Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane


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Page 9

From off in the darkness came the trampling of feet. The youth
could occasionally see dark shadows that moved like monsters.
The regiment stood at rest for what seemed a long time. The youth
grew impatient. It was unendurable the way these affairs were managed.
He wondered how long they were to be kept waiting.

As he looked all about him and pondered upon the mystic gloom,
he began to believe that at any moment the ominous distance might
be aflare, and the rolling crashes of an engagement come to his ears.
Staring once at the red eyes across the river, he conceived them
to be growing larger, as the orbs of a row of dragons advancing.
He turned toward the colonel and saw him lift his gigantic arm
and calmly stroke his mustache.

At last he heard from along the road at the foot of the hill the
clatter of a horse's galloping hoofs. It must be the coming of orders.
He bent forward, scarce breathing. The exciting clickety-click,
as it grew louder and louder, seemed to be beating upon his soul.
Presently a horseman with jangling equipment drew rein before the
colonel of the regiment. The two held a short, sharp-worded conversation.
The men in the foremost ranks craned their necks.

As the horseman wheeled his animal and galloped away he turned to
shout over his shoulder, "Don't forget that box of cigars!"
The colonel mumbled in reply. The youth wondered what a box
of cigars had to do with war.

A moment later the regiment went swinging off into the darkness.
It was now like one of those moving monsters wending with many feet.
The air was heavy, and cold with dew. A mass of wet grass,
marched upon, rustled like silk.

There was an occasional flash and glimmer of steel from the
backs of all these huge crawling reptiles. From the road came
creakings and grumblings as some surly guns were dragged away.

The men stumbled along still muttering speculations. There was a
subdued debate. Once a man fell down, and as he reached for his
rifle a comrade, unseeing, trod upon his hand. He of the injured
fingers swore bitterly, and aloud. A low, tittering laugh went
among his fellows.

Presently they passed into a roadway and marched forward with
easy strides. A dark regiment moved before them, and from behind
also came the tinkle of equipments on the bodies of marching men.

The rushing yellow of the developing day went on behind their backs.
When the sunrays at last struck full and mellowingly upon the earth,
the youth saw that the landscape was streaked with two long, thin,
black columns which disappeared on the brow of a hill in front and
rearward vanished in a wood. They were like two serpents crawling
from the cavern of the night.

The river was not in view. The tall soldier burst into praises
of what he thought to be his powers of perception.

Some of the tall one's companions cried with emphasis that they, too,
had evolved the same thing, and they congratulated themselves upon it.
But there were others who said that the tall one's plan was not the
true one at all. They persisted with other theories. There was a
vigorous discussion.

The youth took no part in them. As he walked along in careless
line he was engaged with his own eternal debate. He could not
hinder himself from dwelling upon it. He was despondent and
sullen, and threw shifting glances about him. He looked ahead,
often expecting to hear from the advance the rattle of firing.

But the long serpents crawled slowly from hill to hill without
bluster of smoke. A dun-colored cloud of dust floated away to
the right. The sky overhead was of a fairy blue.

The youth studied the faces of his companions, ever on the watch
to detect kindred emotions. He suffered disappointment.
Some ardor of the air which was causing the veteran commands to
move with glee--almost with song--had infected the new regiment.
The men began to speak of victory as of a thing they knew.
Also, the tall soldier received his vindication. They were
certainly going to come around in behind the enemy. They expressed
commiseration for that part of the army which had been left upon the
river bank, felicitating themselves upon being a part of a blasting host.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Fri 10th Jan 2025, 15:32