There was, I remember, no elephant on the boat that passed us across that
evening, nor, I think, any hippopotamus. These would have been out of
place. We had, however, a woman. Whether the baby was somewhere on board I
did not learn. She was a fine creature, this woman; somebody's wife. Her
mission, as she understood it, was to inspire the failing heart with
courage; and when she selected mine I felt less flattered by her
preference than astonished by her penetration. How did she learn? She
stood on the upper deck with the red blaze of battle bathing her beautiful
face, the twinkle of a thousand rifles mirrored in her eyes; and
displaying a small ivory-handled pistol, she told me in a sentence
punctuated by the thunder of great guns that if it came to the worst she
would do her duty like a man! I am proud to remember that I took off my
hat to this little fool.
V
Along the sheltered strip of beach between the river bank and the water
was a confused mass of humanity--several thousands of men. They were
mostly unarmed; many were wounded; some dead. All the camp-following
tribes were there; all the cowards; a few officers. Not one of them knew
where his regiment was, nor if he had a regiment. Many had not. These men
were defeated, beaten, cowed. They were deaf to duty and dead to shame. A
more demented crew never drifted to the rear of broken battalions. They
would have stood in their tracks and been shot down to a man by a
provost-marshal's guard, but they could not have been urged up that bank.
An army's bravest men are its cowards. The death which they would not meet
at the hands of the enemy they will meet at the hands of their officers,
with never a flinching.
Whenever a steamboat would land, this abominable mob had to be kept off
her with bayonets; when she pulled away, they sprang on her and were
pushed by scores into the water, where they were suffered to drown one
another in their own way. The men disembarking insulted them, shoved them,
struck them. In return they expressed their unholy delight in the
certainty of our destruction by the enemy.
By the time my regiment had reached the plateau night had put an end to
the struggle. A sputter of rifles would break out now and then, followed
perhaps by a spiritless hurrah. Occasionally a shell from a far-away
battery would come pitching down somewhere near, with a whir crescendo, or
flit above our heads with a whisper like that made by the wings of a night
bird, to smother itself in the river. But there was no more fighting. The
gunboats, however, blazed away at set intervals all night long, just to
make the enemy uncomfortable and break him of his rest.
For us there was no rest. Foot by foot we moved through the dusky fields,
we knew not whither. There were men all about us, but no camp-fires; to
have made a blaze would have been madness. The men were of strange
regiments; they mentioned the names of unknown generals. They gathered in
groups by the wayside, asking eagerly our numbers. They recounted the
depressing incidents of the day. A thoughtful officer shut their mouths
with a sharp word as he passed; a wise one coming after encouraged them to
repeat their doleful tale all along the line.
Hidden in hollows and behind clumps of rank brambles were large tents,
dimly lighted with candles, but looking comfortable. The kind of comfort
they supplied was indicated by pairs of men entering and reappearing,
bearing litters; by low moans from within and by long rows of dead with
covered faces outside. These tents were constantly receiving the wounded,
yet were never full; they were continually ejecting the dead, yet were
never empty. It was as if the helpless had been carried in and murdered,
that they might not hamper those whose business it was to fall to-morrow.
The night was now black-dark; as is usual after a battle, it had begun to
rain. Still we moved; we were being put into position by somebody. Inch by
inch we crept along, treading on one another's heels by way of keeping
together. Commands were passed along the line in whispers; more commonly
none were given. When the men had pressed so closely together that they
could advance no farther they stood stock-still, sheltering the locks of
their rifles with their ponchos. In this position many fell asleep. When
those in front suddenly stepped away those in the rear, roused by the
tramping, hastened after with such zeal that the line was soon choked
again. Evidently the head of the division was being piloted at a snail's
pace by some one who did not feel sure of his ground. Very often we struck
our feet against the dead; more frequently against those who still had
spirit enough to resent it with a moan. These were lifted carefully to one
side and abandoned. Some had sense enough to ask in their weak way for
water. Absurd! Their clothes were soaken, their hair dank; their white
faces, dimly discernible, were clammy and cold. Besides, none of us had
any water. There was plenty coming, though, for before midnight a
thunderstorm broke upon us with great violence. The rain, which had for
hours been a dull drizzle, fell with a copiousness that stifled us; we
moved in running water up to our ankles. Happily, we were in a forest of
great trees heavily "decorated" with Spanish moss, or with an enemy
standing to his guns the disclosures of the lightning might have been
inconvenient. As it was, the incessant blaze enabled us to consult our
watches and encouraged us by displaying our numbers; our black, sinuous
line, creeping like a giant serpent beneath the trees, was apparently
interminable. I am almost ashamed to say how sweet I found the
companionship of those coarse men.
So the long night wore away, and as the glimmer of morning crept in
through the forest we found ourselves in a more open country. But where?
Not a sign of battle was here. The trees were neither splintered nor
scarred, the underbrush was unmown, the ground had no footprints but our
own. It was as if we had broken into glades sacred to eternal silence. I
should not have been surprised to see sleek leopards come fawning about
our feet, and milk-white deer confront us with human eyes.
A few inaudible commands from an invisible leader had placed us in order
of battle. But where was the enemy? Where, too, were the riddled regiments
that we had come to save? Had our other divisions arrived during the night
and passed the river to assist us? or were we to oppose our paltry five
thousand breasts to an army flushed with victory? What protected our
right? Who lay upon our left? Was there really anything in our front?
There came, borne to us on the raw morning air, the long, weird note of a
bugle. It was directly before us. It rose with a low, clear, deliberate
warble, and seemed to float in the gray sky like the note of a lark. The
bugle calls of the Federal and the Confederate armies were the same: it
was the "assembly"! As it died away I observed that the atmosphere had
suffered a change; despite the equilibrium established by the storm, it
was electric. Wings were growing on blistered feet. Bruised muscles and
jolted bones, shoulders pounded by the cruel knapsack, eyelids leaden from
lack of sleep--all were pervaded by the subtle fluid, all were unconscious
of their clay. The men thrust forward their heads, expanded their eyes and
clenched their teeth. They breathed hard, as if throttled by tugging at
the leash. If you had laid your hand in the beard or hair of one of these
men it would have crackled and shot sparks.