FullReads

A new sense of safety was rightfully upon them. They knew that those mysterious men in the high far trenches in front were having the bullets sping in their faces with relentless and remarkable precision; they knew, in fact, that they were now doing the thing which they had been trained endlessly to do, and they knew they were doing it well. Nolan, for instance, was overjoyed.”Plug ’em!” he said.”Plug ’em!”He was aiming his rifle under the shadow of a certain portico of a fortified house; there he could faintly see a long black line which he knew to be a loophole cut for riflemen, and he knew that every shot of his was going there under the portico, mayhap through the loophole to the brain of another man like himself. He loaded the awkward magazine of his rifle again and again. He was so intent that he did not know of new orders until he saw the men about him scrambling to their feet and running forward, crouching low as they ran.

He heard a shout.”Come on, boys!We can’t be last!We’re going up!We’re going up!”He sprang to his feet and, stooping, ran with the others. Something fine, soft, gentle, touched his heart as he ran. He had loved the regiment, the army, because the regiment, the army, was his life. He had no other outlook; and now these men, his comrades, were performing his dream-scenes for him. They were doing as he had ordained in his visions. It is curious that in this charge, he considered himself as rather unworthy. Although he himself was in the assault with the rest of them, it seemed to him that his comrades were dazzlingly courageous. His part, to his mind, was merely that of a man who was going along with the crowd.

He saw Grierson biting madly with his pincers at a barbed-wire fence. They were half-way up the beautiful sylvan slope; there was no enemy to be seen, and yet the landscape rained bullets. Somebody punched him violently in the stomach. He thought dully to lie down and rest, but instead he fell with a crash.

The sparse line of men in blue shirts and dirty slouch hats swept on up the hill. He decided to shut his eyes for a moment, because he felt very dreamy and peaceful. It seemed only a minute before he heard a voice say, “There he is.”Grierson and Watkins had come to look for him. He searched their faces at once and keenly, for he had a thought that the line might be driven down the hill and leave him in Spanish hands. But he saw that everything was secure and he prepared no questions.

“Nolan,” said Grierson clumsily, “do you know me?”

The man on the ground smiled softly.”Of course I know you, you chowder-faced monkey. Why wouldn’t I know you?”

Watkins knelt beside him.”Where did they plug you, boy?”

Nolan was somewhat dubious.

“It ain’t much, I don’t think, but it’s somewheres there.”He laid a finger on the pit of his stomach. They lifted his shirt and then privately they exchanged a glance of horror.

“Does it hurt, Jimmie?” said Grierson, hoarsely.

“No,” said Nolan, “it don’t hurt any, but I feel sort of dead-to-the-world and numb all over. I don’t think it’s very bad.”

“Oh, it’s all right,” said Watkins.

“What I need is a drink,” said Nolan, grinning at them.”I’m chilly — lyin’ on this damp ground.”

“It ain’t very damp, Jimmie,” said Grierson.

“Well, it is damp,” said Nolan, with sudden irritability.”I can feel it. I’m wet, I tell you — wet through — just from lyin’ here.”

They answered hastily.”Yes, that’s so, Jimmie. It is damp. That’s so.”

“Just put your hand under my back and see how wet the ground is,” he said.

“No,” they answered.”That’s all right, Jimmie. We know it’s wet.”

“Well, put your hand under and see,” he cried, stubbornly.

“Oh, never
mind, Jimmie.”

“No,” he said in a temper, “see for yourself.”