Chapter: When the woods again began to pour forth the dark-hued masses of the
enemy the youth felt serene self-confidence.  He smiled briefly when he
saw men dodge and duck at the long screechings of shells that were
thrown in giant handfuls over them.  He stood, erect and tranquil,
watching the attack begin against a part of the line that made a blue
curve along the side of an adjacent hill.  His vision being unmolested
by smoke from the rifles of his companions, he had opportunities to see
parts of the hard fight.  It was a relief to perceive at last from
whence came some of these noises which had been roared into his ears.

Off a short way he saw two regiments fighting a little separate battle
with two other regiments.  It was in a cleared space, wearing a
set-apart look.  They were blazing as if upon a wager, giving and
taking tremendous blows. The firings were incredibly fierce and rapid.
These intent regiments apparently were oblivious of all larger purposes
of war, and were slugging each other as if at a matched game.

In another direction he saw a magnificent brigade going with the
evident intention of driving the enemy from a wood.  They passed in out
of sight and presently there was a most awe-inspiring racket in the
wood.  The noise was unspeakable.  Having stirred this prodigious
uproar, and, apparently, finding it too prodigious, the brigade, after
a little time, came marching airily out again with its fine formation
in nowise disturbed.  There were no traces of speed in its movements.
The brigade was jaunty and seemed to point a proud thumb at the yelling
wood.

On a slope to the left there was a long row of guns, gruff and
maddened, denouncing the enemy, who, down through the woods, were
forming for another attack in the pitiless monotony of conflicts.  The
round red discharges from the guns made a crimson flare and a high,
thick smoke.  Occasional glimpses could be caught of groups of the
toiling artillerymen.  In the rear of this row of guns stood a house,
calm and white, amid bursting shells.  A congregation of horses, tied
to a long railing, were tugging frenziedly at their bridles.  Men were
running hither and thither.

The detached battle between the four regiments lasted for some time.
There chanced to be no interference, and they settled their dispute by
themselves.  They struck savagely and powerfully at each other for a
period of minutes, and then the lighter-hued regiments faltered and
drew back, leaving the dark-blue lines shouting. The youth could see
the two flags shaking with laughter amid the smoke remnants.

Presently there was a stillness, pregnant with meaning.  The blue lines
shifted and changed a trifle and stared expectantly at the silent woods
and fields before them.  The hush was solemn and churchlike, save for a
distant battery that, evidently unable to remain quiet, sent a faint
rolling thunder over the ground.  It irritated, like the noises of
unimpressed boys.  The men imagined that it would prevent their perched
ears from hearing the first words of the new battle.

Of a sudden the guns on the slope roared out a message of warning.  A
spluttering sound had begun in the woods.  It swelled with amazing
speed to a profound clamor that involved the earth in noises.  The
splitting crashes swept along the lines until an interminable roar was
developed.  To those in the midst of it it became a din fitted to the
universe.  It was the whirring and thumping of gigantic machinery,
complications among the smaller stars.  The youth's ears were filled
up.  They were incapable of hearing more.

On an incline over which a road wound he saw wild and desperate rushes
of men perpetually backward and forward in riotous surges. These parts
of the opposing armies were two long waves that pitched upon each other
madly at dictated points.  To and fro they swelled. Sometimes, one side
by its yells and cheers would proclaim decisive blows, but a moment
later the other side would be all yells and cheers. Once the youth saw
a spray of light forms go in houndlike leaps toward the waving blue
lines. There was much howling, and presently it went away with a vast
mouthful of prisoners.  Again, he saw a blue wave dash with such
thunderous force against a gray obstruction that it seemed to clear the
earth of it and leave nothing but trampled sod.  And always in their
swift and deadly rushes to and fro the men screamed and yelled like
maniacs.

Particular pieces of fence or secure positions behind collections of
trees were wrangled over, as gold thrones or pearl bedsteads.  There
were desperate lunges at these chosen spots seemingly every instant,
and most of them were bandied like light toys between the contending
forces.  The youth could not tell from the battle flags flying like
crimson foam in many directions which color of cloth was winning.

His emaciated regiment bustled forth with undiminished fierceness when
its time came. When assaulted again by bullets, the men burst out in a
barbaric cry of rage and pain.  They bent their heads in aims of intent
hatred behind the projected hammers of their guns. Their ramrods
clanged loud with fury as their eager arms pounded the cartridges into
the rifle barrels.  The front of the regiment was a smoke-wall
penetrated by the flashing points of yellow and red.

Wallowing in the fight, they were in an astonishingly short time
resmudged.  They surpassed in stain and dirt all their previous
appearances.  Moving to and fro with strained exertion, jabbering the
while, they were, with their swaying bodies, black faces, and glowing
eyes, like strange and ugly friends jigging heavily in the smoke.

The lieutenant, returning from a tour after a bandage, produced from a
hidden receptacle of his mind new and portentous oaths suited to the
emergency.  Strings of expletives he swung lashlike over the backs of
his men, and it was evident that his previous efforts had in nowise
impaired his resources.

The youth, still the bearer of the colors, did not feel his idleness.
He was deeply absorbed as a spectator.  The crash and swing of the
great drama made him lean forward, intent-eyed, his face working in
small contortions.  Sometimes he prattled, words coming unconsciously
from him in grotesque exclamations.  He did not know that he breathed;
that the flag hung silently over him, so absorbed was he.

A formidable line of the enemy came within dangerous range.  They could
be seen plainly--tall, gaunt men with excited faces running with long
strides toward a wandering fence.

At sight of this danger the men suddenly ceased their cursing monotone.
There was an instant of strained silence before they threw up their
rifles and fired a plumping volley at the foes.  There had been no
order given; the men, upon recognizing the menace, had immediately let
drive their flock of bullets without waiting for word of command.

But the enemy were quick to gain the protection of the wandering line
of fence.  They slid down behind it with remarkable celerity, and from
this position they began briskly to slice up the blue men.

These latter braced their energies for a great struggle.  Often, white
clinched teeth shone from the dusky faces.  Many heads surged to and
fro, floating upon a pale sea of smoke. Those behind the fence
frequently shouted and yelped in taunts and gibelike cries, but the
regiment maintained a stressed silence.  Perhaps, at this new assault
the men recalled the fact that they had been named mud diggers, and it
made their situation thrice bitter.  They were breathlessly intent upon
keeping the ground and thrusting away the rejoicing body of the enemy.
They fought swiftly and with a despairing savageness denoted in their
expressions.

The youth had resolved not to budge whatever should happen.  Some
arrows of scorn that had buried themselves in his heart had generated
strange and unspeakable hatred.  It was clear to him that his final and
absolute revenge was to be achieved by his dead body lying, torn and
gluttering, upon the field.  This was to be a poignant retaliation upon
the officer who had said "mule drivers," and later "mud diggers," for
in all the wild graspings of his mind for a unit responsible for his
sufferings and commotions he always seized upon the man who had dubbed
him wrongly.  And it was his idea, vaguely formulated, that his corpse
would be for those eyes a great and salt reproach.

The regiment bled extravagantly.  Grunting bundles of blue began to
drop.  The orderly sergeant of the youth's company was shot through the
cheeks.  Its supports being injured, his jaw hung afar down, disclosing
in the wide cavern of his mouth a pulsing mass of blood and teeth. And
with it all he made attempts to cry out. In his endeavor there was a
dreadful earnestness, as if he conceived that one great shriek would
make him well.

The youth saw him presently go rearward. His strength seemed in nowise
impaired.  He ran swiftly, casting wild glances for succor.

Others fell down about the feet of their companions.  Some of the
wounded crawled out and away, but many lay still, their bodies twisted
into impossible shapes.

The youth looked once for his friend.  He saw a vehement young man,
powder-smeared and frowzled, whom he knew to be him.  The lieutenant,
also, was unscathed in his position at the rear.  He had continued to
curse, but it was now with the air of a man who was using his last box
of oaths.

For the fire of the regiment had begun to wane and drip.  The robust
voice, that had come strangely from the thin ranks, was growing rapidly
weak.

 As the next phase of the battle begins, Henry is still in command of the flag. He stands erect and tranquil, his vision unaffected by the smoke from the rifles. In the distance, two regiments of one army fight two regiments of the other. They are engrossed in their own fights, not noticing the rest of the war around them. In another direction, a brigade tries to drive the enemy from a grove. They disappear into the trees, from which comes an incredible racket of guns. Soon, the brigade comes marching calmly back out of the trees. Cannons go off with a crimson flare. The battle of the four regiments lasts for some time. Their flags flutter in the air. Then there is a silence all around. The blue lines of the Union army shift and change slightly. Except for a distant cannon, it is very still. Suddenly, the guns on the slope behind the regiment roar out. Muskets resound from in front. The din rises, sounding like enormous machinery. Henry can see the battle continuing on another front, with the two lines, blue and gray, swaying back and forth against each other. Places of cover, such as trees and fences, are fought over as if they were precious gems. He cannot tell which side is winning. When its time comes, the regiment bursts forward with fierceness. As bullets hit them, they cry out in rage. Their front is a wall of smoke lit with yellow and red flashes. The faces of the men are smudges of powder and fogged with smoke. The lieutenant, arm bandaged, still swears loudly at the men. The youth stands with the colors, absorbed in the battle as a spectator. It makes him babble occasionally, words coming unconsciously. Then a line of the enemy begins to advance very close to them. The regiment simultaneously fires at them without waiting to be ordered. The Rebels are behind a fence, which covers them from the attack. They rise and shoot into the regiment. The smoke wafts through the Union soldiers' line. The Rebels yell taunts and gibes, while the men in blue remain silent, intent on keeping the ground they have gained. Henry has resolved not to budge from his place. It is clear to him that his final revenge will be his dead body upon the field. The regiment bleeds profusely. Men are falling rapidly. Henry goes rearward. In the fray, he can make out his friend through the confusion. The regiment's fire is beginning to fade

