The Little Regiment, and Other Episodes of the American Civil War — John Shaqi
The Little Regiment, and Other Episodes of the American Civil WarCrane, Stephen
History
The Little Regiment, and Other Episodes of the American Civil War
Crane, Stephen
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction; War stories, American
Dan made a curious sound, as if a stone had wedged in his throat. He
said: "Shut up, will you?"
Afterward the men would not allow this moody contemplation of the fire
to be interrupted.
"Oh, let him alone, can't you?"
"Come away from there, Casey!"
"Say, can't you leave him be?"
They moved with reverence about the immovable figure, with its
countenance of mask-like invulnerability.
VII.
After the red round eye of the sun had stared long at the little plain
and its burden, darkness, a sable mercy, came heavily upon it, and the
wan hands of the dead were no longer seen in strange frozen gestures.
The heights in front of the plain shone with tiny camp-fires, and from
the town in the rear, small shimmerings ascended from the blazes of the
bivouac. The plain was a black expanse upon which, from time to time,
dots of light, lanterns, floated slowly here and there. These fields
were long steeped in grim mystery.
Suddenly, upon one dark spot, there was a resurrection. A strange thing
had been groaning there, prostrate. Then it suddenly dragged itself to a
sitting posture, and became a man.
The man stared stupidly for a moment at the lights on the hill, then
turned and contemplated the faint colouring over the town. For some
moments he remained thus, staring with dull eyes, his face unemotional,
wooden.
Finally he looked around him at the corpses dimly to be seen. No change
flashed into his face upon viewing these men. They seemed to suggest
merely that his information concerning himself was not too complete. He
ran his fingers over his arms and chest, bearing always the air of an
idiot upon a bench at an almshouse door.
Finding no wound in his arms nor in his chest, he raised his hand to his
head, and the fingers came away with some dark liquid upon them. Holding
these fingers close to his eyes, he scanned them in the same stupid
fashion, while his body gently swayed.
The soldier rolled his eyes again toward the town. When he arose, his
clothing peeled from the frozen ground like wet paper. Hearing the sound
of it, he seemed to see reason for deliberation. He paused and looked at
the ground, then at his trousers, then at the ground.
Finally he went slowly off toward the faint reflection, holding his
hands palm outward before him, and walking in the manner of a blind man.
VIII.
The immovable Dan again sat unaddressed in the midst of comrades, who
did not joke aloud. The dampness of the usual morning fog seemed to make
the little camp-fires furious.
Suddenly a cry arose in the streets, a shout of amazement and delight.
The men making breakfast at the fire looked up quickly. They broke forth
in clamorous exclamation: "Well! Of all things! Dan! Dan! Look who's
coming! Oh, Dan!"
Dan the silent raised his eyes and saw a man, with a bandage of the size
of a helmet about his head, receiving a furious demonstration from the
company. He was shaking hands, and explaining, and haranguing to a high
degree.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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