THERE were moments of waiting.The youth thought of the village street at home before the arrival of the circus parade on a day in the spring.He remembered how he had stood, a small, thrillful boy, prepared to follow the dingy lady upon the white horse, or the band in its faded chariot.He saw the yellow road, the lines of expectant people, and the sober houses.
He particularly remembered an old fellow who used to sit upon a cracker box in front of the store and feign to despise such exhibitions.Athousand details of color and form surged in his mind.The old fellow upon the cracker box ap-peared in middle prominence.
Some one cried, "Here they come!"
There was rustling and muttering among the men.They displayed a feverish desire to have every possible cartridge ready to their hands.
The boxes were pulled around into various posi-tions, and adjusted with great care.It was as if seven hundred new bonnets were being tried on.
The tall soldier, having prepared his rifle, pro-duced a red handkerchief of some kind.He was engaged in knitting it about his throat with ex-quisite attention to its position, when the cry was repeated up and down the line in a muffled roar of sound.
"Here they come! Here they come!" Gun locks clicked.
Across the smoke-infested fields came a brown swarm of running men who were giving shrill yells.They came on, stooping and swinging their rifles at all angles.A flag, tilted forward, sped near the front.
As he caught sight of them the youth was momentarily startled by a thought that perhaps his gun was not loaded.He stood trying to rally his faltering intellect so that he might rec-ollect the moment when he had loaded, but he could not.
A hatless general pulled his dripping horse to a stand near the colonel of the 304th.He shook his fist in the other's face."You 've got to hold 'em back!" he shouted, savagely; "you 've got to hold 'em back!"In his agitation the colonel began to stammer.
"A-all r-right, General, all right, by Gawd! We-we'll do our--we-we'll d-d-do--do our best, Gen-eral." The general made a passionate gesture and galloped away.The colonel, perchance to relieve his feelings, began to scold like a wet parrot.The youth, turning swiftly to make sure that the rear was unmolested, saw the com-mander regarding his men in a highly regretful manner, as if he regretted above everything his association with them.
The man at the youth's elbow was mumbling, as if to himself: "Oh, we 're in for it now! oh, we 're in for it now!"The captain of the company had been pacing excitedly to and fro in the rear.He coaxed in schoolmistress fashion, as to a congregation of boys with primers.His talk was an endless repetition."Reserve your fire, boys--don't shoot till I tell you--save your fire--wait till they get close up--don't be damned fools--"Perspiration streamed down the youth's face, which was soiled like that of a weeping urchin.
He frequently, with a nervous movement, wiped his eyes with his coat sleeve.His mouth was still a little ways open.
He got the one glance at the foe-swarming field in front of him, and instantly ceased to de-bate the question of his piece being loaded.Be-fore he was ready to begin--before he had an-nounced to himself that he was about to fight--he threw the obedient, well-balanced rifle into position and fired a first wild shot.Directly he was working at his weapon like an automatic affair.
He suddenly lost concern for himself, and for-got to look at a menacing fate.He became not a man but a member.He felt that something of which he was a part--a regiment, an army, a cause, or a country--was in a crisis.He was welded into a common personality which was dominated by a single desire.For some mo-ments he could not flee no more than a little finger can commit a revolution from a hand.
If he had thought the regiment was about to be annihilated perhaps he could have amputated himself from it.But its noise gave him assur-ance.The regiment was like a firework that, once ignited, proceeds superior to circumstances until its blazing vitality fades.It wheezed and banged with a mighty power.He pictured the ground before it as strewn with the discom-fited.
There was a consciousness always of the pres-ence of his comrades about him.He felt the subtle battle brotherhood more potent even than the cause for which they were fighting.It was a mysterious fraternity born of the smoke and dan-ger of death.
He was at a task.He was like a carpenter who has made many boxes, making still another box, only there was furious haste in his move-ments.He, in his thought, was careering off in other places, even as the carpenter who as he works whistles and thinks of his friend or his enemy, his home or a saloon.And these jolted dreams were never perfect to him afterward, but remained a mass of blurred shapes.
Presently he began to feel the effects of the war atmosphere--a blistering sweat, a sensation that his eyeballs were about to crack like hot stones.A burning roar filled his ears.
Following this came a red rage.He devel-oped the acute exasperation of a pestered animal, a well-meaning cow worried by dogs.He had a mad feeling against his rifle, which could only be used against one life at a time.He wished to rush forward and strangle with his fingers.He craved a power that would enable him to make a world-sweeping gesture and brush all back.His impotency appeared to him, and made his rage into that of a driven beast.
Buried in the smoke of many rifles his anger was directed not so much against the men whom he knew were rushing toward him as against the swirling battle phantoms which were choking him, stuffing their smoke robes down his parched throat.He fought frantically for respite for his senses, for air, as a babe being smothered attacks the deadly blankets.
There was a blare of heated rage mingled with a certain expression of intentness on all faces.
