ONE KIND OF OFFICER
I
OF THE USES OF CIVILITY
"Captain Ransome, it is not permitted to you to know _anything_. It issufficient that you obey my order--which permit me to repeat. If youperceive any movement of troops in your front you are to open fire, andif attacked hold this position as long as you can. Do I make myselfunderstood, sir?"
"Nothing could be plainer. Lieutenant Price,"--this to an officer of hisown battery, who had ridden up in time to hear the order--"the general'smeaning is clear, is it not?"
"Perfectly."
The lieutenant passed on to his post. For a moment General Cameron andthe commander of the battery sat in their saddles, looking at each otherin silence. There was no more to say; apparently too much had alreadybeen said. Then the superior officer nodded coldly and turned his horseto ride away. The artillerist saluted slowly, gravely, and with extremeformality. One acquainted with the niceties of military etiquette wouldhave said that by his manner he attested a sense of the rebuke that hehad incurred. It is one of the important uses of civility to signifyresentment.
When the general had joined his staff and escort, awaiting him at alittle distance, the whole cavalcade moved off toward the right of theguns and vanished in the fog. Captain Ransome was alone, silent,motionless as an equestrian statue. The gray fog, thickening everymoment, closed in about him like a visible doom.
II
UNDER WHAT CIRCUMSTANCES MEN DO NOT WISH TO BE SHOT
The fighting of the day before had been desultory and indecisive. At thepoints of collision the smoke of battle had hung in blue sheets amongthe branches of the trees till beaten into nothing by the falling rain.In the softened earth the wheels of cannon and ammunition wagons cutdeep, ragged furrows, and movements of infantry seemed impeded by themud that clung to the soldiers' feet as, with soaken garments and riflesimperfectly protected by capes of overcoats they went dragging insinuous lines hither and thither through dripping forest and floodedfield. Mounted officers, their heads protruding from rubber ponchos thatglittered like black armor, picked their way, singly and in loosegroups, among the men, coming and going with apparent aimlessness andcommanding attention from nobody but one another. Here and there a deadman, his clothing defiled with earth, his face covered with a blanket orshowing yellow and claylike in the rain, added his dispiriting influenceto that of the other dismal features of the scene and augmented thegeneral discomfort with a particular dejection. Very repulsive thesewrecks looked--not at all heroic, and nobody was accessible to theinfection of their patriotic example. Dead upon the field of honor, yes;but the field of honor was so very wet! It makes a difference.
The general engagement that all expected did not occur, none of thesmall advantages accruing, now to this side and now to that, in isolatedand accidental collisions being followed up. Half-hearted attacksprovoked a sullen resistance which was satisfied with mere repulse.Orders were obeyed with mechanical fidelity; no one did any more thanhis duty.
"The army is cowardly to-day," said General Cameron, the commander of aFederal brigade, to his adjutant-general.
"The army is cold," replied the officer addressed, "and--yes, it doesn'twish to be like that."
He pointed to one of the dead bodies, lying in a thin pool of yellowwater, its face and clothing bespattered with mud from hoof and wheel.
The army's weapons seemed to share its military delinquency. The rattleof rifles sounded flat and contemptible. It had no meaning and scarcelyroused to attention and expectancy the unengaged parts of theline-of-battle and the waiting reserves. Heard at a little distance, thereports of cannon were feeble in volume and _timbre_: they lacked stingand resonance. The guns seemed to be fired with light charges,unshotted. And so the futile day wore on to its dreary close, and thento a night of discomfort succeeded a day of apprehension.
An army has a personality. Beneath the individual thoughts and emotionsof its component parts it thinks and feels as a unit. And in this large,inclusive sense of things lies a wiser wisdom than the mere sum of allthat it knows. On that dismal morning this great brute force, groping atthe bottom of a white ocean of fog among trees that seemed as sea weeds,had a dumb consciousness that all was not well; that a day's manoeuvringhad resulted in a faulty disposition of its parts, a blind diffusion ofits strength. The men felt insecure and talked among themselves of suchtactical errors as with their meager military vocabulary they were ableto name. Field and line officers gathered in groups and spoke morelearnedly of what they apprehended with no greater clearness. Commandersof brigades and divisions looked anxiously to their connections on theright and on the left, sent staff officers on errands of inquiry andpushed skirmish lines silently and cautiously forward into the dubiousregion between the known and the unknown. At some points on the line thetroops, apparently of their own volition, constructed such defenses asthey could without the silent spade and the noisy ax.
One of these points was held by Captain Ransome's battery of six guns.Provided always with intrenching tools, his men had labored withdiligence during the night, and now his guns thrust their black muzzlesthrough the embrasures of a really formidable earthwork. It crowned aslight acclivity devoid of undergrowth and providing an unobstructedfire that would sweep the ground for an unknown distance in front. Theposition could hardly have been better chosen. It had this peculiarity,which Captain Ransome, who was greatly addicted to the use of thecompass, had not failed to observe: it faced northward, whereas he knewthat the general line of the army must face eastward. In fact, that partof the line was "refused"--that is to say, bent backward, away from theenemy. This implied that Captain Ransome's battery was somewhere nearthe left flank of the army; for an army in line of battle retires itsflanks if the nature of the ground will permit, they being itsvulnerable points. Actually, Captain Ransome appeared to hold theextreme left of the line, no troops being visible in that directionbeyond his own. Immediately in rear of his guns occurred thatconversation between him and his brigade commander, the concluding andmore picturesque part of which is reported above.
III
HOW TO PLAY THE CANNON WITHOUT NOTES
Captain Ransome sat motionless and silent on horseback. A few yards awayhis men were standing at their guns. Somewhere--everywhere within a fewmiles--were a hundred thousand men, friends and enemies. Yet he wasalone. The mist had isolated him as completely as if he had been in theheart of a desert. His world was a few square yards of wet and trampledearth about the feet of his horse. His comrades in that ghostly domainwere invisible and inaudible. These were conditions favorable tothought, and he was thinking. Of the nature of his thoughts hisclear-cut handsome features yielded no attesting sign. His face was asinscrutable as that of the sphinx. Why should it have made a recordwhich there was none to observe? At the sound of a footstep he merelyturned his eyes in the direction whence it came; one of his sergeants,looking a giant in stature in the false perspective of the fog,approached, and when clearly defined and reduced to his true dimensionsby propinquity, saluted and stood at attention.
"Well, Morris," said the officer, returning his subordinate's salute.
"Lieutenant Price directed me to tell you, sir, that most of theinfantry has been withdrawn. We have not sufficient support."
"Yes, I know."
"I am to say that some of our men have been out over the works a hundredyards and report that our front is not picketed."
"Yes."
"They were so far forward that they heard the enemy."
"Yes."
"They heard the rattle of the wheels of artillery and the commands ofofficers."
"Yes."
"The enemy is moving toward our works."
Captain Ransome, who had been facing to the rear of his line--toward thepoint where the brigade commander and his cavalcade had been swallowedup by the fog--reined his horse about and faced the other way. Then hesat motionless as before.
"Who are the men who made that statement?" he inquired, without lookingat the serge
ant; his eyes were directed straight into the fog over thehead of his horse.
"Corporal Hassman and Gunner Manning."
Captain Ransome was a moment silent. A slight pallor came into his face,a slight compression affected the lines of his lips, but it would haverequired a closer observer than Sergeant Morris to note the change.There was none in the voice.
"Sergeant, present my compliments to Lieutenant Price and direct him toopen fire with all the guns. Grape."
The sergeant saluted and vanished in the fog.
IV.
TO INTRODUCE GENERAL MASTERSON
Searching for his division commander,General Cameron and his escort had followed the line of battle fornearly a mile to the right of Ransome's battery, and there learned thatthe division commander had gone in search of the corps commander. Itseemed that everybody was looking for his immediate superior--an ominouscircumstance. It meant that nobody was quite at ease. So General Cameronrode on for another half-mile, where by good luck he met GeneralMasterson, the division commander, returning.
"Ah, Cameron," said the higher officer, reining up, and throwing hisright leg across the pommel of his saddle in a most unmilitary way--"anything up? Found a good position for your battery, I hope--if oneplace is better than another in a fog."
"Yes, general," said the other, with the greater dignity appropriate tohis less exalted rank, "my battery is very well placed. I wish I couldsay that it is as well commanded."
"Eh, what's that? Ransome? I think him a fine fellow. In the army weshould be proud of him."
It was customary for officers of the regular army to speak of it as "thearmy." As the greatest cities are most provincial, so theself-complacency of aristocracies is most frankly plebeian.
"He is too fond of his opinion. By the way, in order to occupy the hillthat he holds I had to extend my line dangerously. The hill is on myleft--that is to say the left flank of the army."
"Oh, no, Hart's brigade is beyond. It was ordered up from Drytown duringthe night and directed to hook on to you. Better go and--"
The sentence was unfinished: a lively cannonade had broken out on theleft, and both officers, followed by their retinues of aides andorderlies making a great jingle and clank, rode rapidly toward the spot.But they were soon impeded, for they were compelled by the fog to keepwithin sight of the line-of-battle, behind which were swarms of men, allin motion across their way. Everywhere the line was assuming a sharperand harder definition, as the men sprang to arms and the officers, withdrawn swords, "dressed" the ranks. Color-bearers unfurled the flags,buglers blew the "assembly," hospital attendants appeared withstretchers. Field officers mounted and sent their impedimenta to therear in care of negro servants. Back in the ghostly spaces of the forestcould be heard the rustle and murmur of the reserves, pulling themselvestogether.
Nor was all this preparation vain, for scarcely five minutes had passedsince Captain Ransome's guns had broken the truce of doubt before thewhole region was aroar: the enemy had attacked nearly everywhere.
V
HOW SOUNDS CAN FIGHT SHADOWS
Captain Ransome walked up and down behind his guns, which were firingrapidly but with steadiness. The gunners worked alertly, but withouthaste or apparent excitement. There was really no reason for excitement;it is not much to point a cannon into a fog and fire it. Anybody can doas much as that.
The men smiled at their noisy work, performing it with a lesseningalacrity. They cast curious regards upon their captain, who had nowmounted the banquette of the fortification and was looking across theparapet as if observing the effect of his fire. But the only visibleeffect was the substitution of wide, low-lying sheets of smoke for theirbulk of fog. Suddenly out of the obscurity burst a great sound ofcheering, which filled the intervals between the reports of the gunswith startling distinctness! To the few with leisure and opportunity toobserve, the sound was inexpressibly strange--so loud, so near, somenacing, yet nothing seen! The men who had smiled at their work smiledno more, but performed it with a serious and feverish activity.
From his station at the parapet Captain Ransome now saw a greatmultitude of dim gray figures taking shape in the mist below him andswarming up the slope. But the work of the guns was now fast andfurious. They swept the populous declivity with gusts of grape andcanister, the whirring of which could be heard through the thunder ofthe explosions. In this awful tempest of iron the assailants struggledforward foot by foot across their dead, firing into the embrasures,reloading, firing again, and at last falling in their turn, a little inadvance of those who had fallen before. Soon the smoke was dense enoughto cover all. It settled down upon the attack and, drifting back,involved the defense. The gunners could hardly see to serve theirpieces, and when occasional figures of the enemy appeared upon theparapet--having had the good luck to get near enough to it, between twoembrasures, to be protected from the guns--they looked so unsubstantialthat it seemed hardly worth while for the few infantrymen to go to workupon them with the bayonet and tumble them back into the ditch.
As the commander of a battery in action can find something better to dothan cracking individual skulls, Captain Ransome had retired from theparapet to his proper post in rear of his guns, where he stood withfolded arms, his bugler beside him. Here, during the hottest of thefight, he was approached by Lieutenant Price, who had just sabred adaring assailant inside the work. A spirited colloquy ensued between thetwo officers--spirited, at least, on the part of the lieutenant, whogesticulated with energy and shouted again and again into hiscommander's ear in the attempt to make himself heard above the infernaldin of the guns. His gestures, if coolly noted by an actor, would havebeen pronounced to be those of protestation: one would have said that hewas opposed to the proceedings. Did he wish to surrender?
Captain Ransome listened without a change of countenance or attitude,and when the other man had finished his harangue, looked him coldly inthe eyes and during a seasonable abatement of the uproar said:
"Lieutenant Price, it is not permitted to you to know _anything_. It issufficient that you obey my orders."
The lieutenant went to his post, and the parapet being now apparentlyclear Captain Ransome returned to it to have a look over. As he mountedthe banquette a man sprang upon the crest, waving a great brilliantflag. The captain drew a pistol from his belt and shot him dead. Thebody, pitching forward, hung over the inner edge of the embankment, thearms straight downward, both hands still grasping the flag. The man'sfew followers turned and fled down the slope. Looking over the parapet,the captain saw no living thing. He observed also that no bullets werecoming into the work.
He made a sign to the bugler, who sounded the command to cease firing.At all other points the action had already ended with a repulse of theConfederate attack; with the cessation of this cannonade the silence wasabsolute.
VI
WHY, BEING AFFRONTED BY A, IT IS NOT BEST TO AFFRONT B
General Masterson rode into the redoubt. The men, gathered in groups,were talking loudly and gesticulating. They pointed at the dead, runningfrom one body to another. They neglected their foul and heated guns andforgot to resume their outer clothing. They ran to the parapet andlooked over, some of them leaping down into the ditch. A score weregathered about a flag rigidly held by a dead man.
"Well, my men," said the general cheerily, "you have had a pretty fightof it."
They stared; nobody replied; the presence of the great man seemed toembarrass and alarm.
Getting no response to his pleasant condescension, the easy-manneredofficer whistled a bar or two of a popular air, and riding forward tothe parapet, looked over at the dead. In an instant he had whirled hishorse about and was spurring along in rear of the guns, his eyeseverywhere at once. An officer sat on the trail of one of the guns,smoking a cigar. As the general dashed up he rose and tranquillysaluted.
"Captain Ransome!"--the words fell sharp and harsh, like the clash ofsteel blades--"you have been fighting our own men--our own men, sir; doyou hear? Hart's brigade!"
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br /> "General, I know that."
"You know it--you know that, and you sit here smoking? Oh, damn it,Hamilton, I'm losing my temper,"--this to his provost-marshal. "Sir--Captain Ransome, be good enough to say--to say why you fought our ownmen."
"That I am unable to say. In my orders that information was withheld."
Apparently the general did not comprehend.
"Who was the aggressor in this affair, you or General Hart?" he asked.
"I was."
"And could you not have known--could you not see, sir, that you wereattacking our own men?"
The reply was astounding!
"I knew that, general. It appeared to be none of my business."
Then, breaking the dead silence that followed his answer, he said:
"I must refer you to General Cameron."
"General Cameron is dead, sir--as dead as he can be--as dead as any manin this army. He lies back yonder under a tree. Do you mean to say thathe had anything to do with this horrible business?"
Captain Ransome did not reply. Observing the altercation his men hadgathered about to watch the outcome. They were greatly excited. The fog,which had been partly dissipated by the firing, had again closed in sodarkly about them that they drew more closely together till the judge onhorseback and the accused standing calmly before him had but a narrowspace free from intrusion. It was the most informal of courts-martial,but all felt that the formal one to follow would but affirm itsjudgment. It had no jurisdiction, but it had the significance ofprophecy.
"Captain Ransome," the general cried impetuously, but with something inhis voice that was almost entreaty, "if you can say anything to put abetter light upon your incomprehensible conduct I beg you will do so."
Having recovered his temper this generous soldier sought for somethingto justify his naturally sympathetic attitude toward a brave man in theimminence of a dishonorable death.
"Where is Lieutenant Price?" the captain said.
That officer stood forward, his dark saturnine face looking somewhatforbidding under a bloody handkerchief bound about his brow. Heunderstood the summons and needed no invitation to speak. He did notlook at the captain, but addressed the general:
"During the engagement I discovered the state of affairs, and apprisedthe commander of the battery. I ventured to urge that the firing cease.I was insulted and ordered to my post."
"Do you know anything of the orders under which I was acting?" asked thecaptain.
"Of any orders under which the commander of the battery was acting," thelieutenant continued, still addressing the general, "I know nothing."
Captain Ransome felt his world sink away from his feet. In those cruelwords he heard the murmur of the centuries breaking upon the shore ofeternity. He heard the voice of doom; it said, in cold, mechanical, andmeasured tones: "Ready, aim, fire!" and he felt the bullets tear hisheart to shreds. He heard the sound of the earth upon his coffin and (ifthe good God was so merciful) the song of a bird above his forgottengrave. Quietly detaching his sabre from its supports, he handed it up tothe provost-marshal.