[lit-ideas] Re: Farwell on the Gurkhas
- From: Robert Paul <rpaul@xxxxxxxx>
- To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Tue, 22 Jan 2008 12:49:27 -0800
If memory serves me, Henry Fleming in/ The Red Badge of Courage/ threw
his rifle away.
[last battle scene in The Red Badge of Courage; Henry Fleming is
carrying the Union standard]
The youth kept the bright colors to the front. He was waving his free
arm in furious circles, the while shrieking mad calls and appeals,
urging on those that did not need to be urged, for it seemed that the
mob of blue men hurling themselves on the dangerous group of rifles were
again grown suddenly wild with an enthusiasm of unselfishness. From the
many firings starting toward them, it looked as if they would merely
succeed in making a great sprinkling of corpses on the grass between
their former position and the fence. But they were in a state of frenzy,
perhaps because of forgotten vanities, and it made an exhibition of
sublime recklessness. There was no obvious questioning, nor figurings,
nor diagrams. There were, apparently, no considered loopholes. It
appeared that the swift wings of their desires would have shattered
against the iron gates of the impossible.
He himself felt the daring spirit of a savage religion-mad. He was
capable of profound sacrifices, a tremendous death. He had no time for
dissections, but he knew that he thought of the bullets only as things
that could prevent him from reaching the place of his endeavor. There
were subtle flashings of joy within him that thus should be his mind.
He strained all his strength. His eyesight was shaken and dazzled by the
tension of thought and muscle. He did not see anything excepting the
mist of smoke gashed by the little knives of fire, but he knew that in
it lay the aged fence of a vanished farmer protecting the snuggled
bodies of the gray men.
As he ran a thought of the shock of contact gleamed in his mind. He
expected a great concussion when the two bodies of troops crashed
together. This became a part of his wild battle madness. He could feel
the onward swing of the regiment about him and he conceived of a
thunderous, crushing blow that would prostrate the resistance and spread
consternation and amazement for miles. The flying regiment was going to
have a catapultian effect. This dream made him run faster among his
comrades, who were giving vent to hoarse and frantic cheers.
------------------
Robert Paul
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