10 The Tattered Man

CHAPTER 10 The Tattered Man The sun sank, and there was a pause in the noise of the insects. In the middle of this stillness, there suddenly came a great clash of sounds. Henry stopped and listened. A roar came from the distance. He heard the ripping sound of gunfire and the breaking crash of cannons. Henry's mind flew in all directions. He imagined the two armies were still fighting. After listening for a long time, he began to run in the direction of the battle. Henry knew that it was strange for him to run

toward battle when he had just worked so hard to be away from it. But he told himself that if the earth and moon were about to crash, many people would get up on their roofs to watch it happen. He felt the same way about the battle. He didn't want to miss an event that people would be talking about for years to come. As he ran, it occurred to Henry that the fight he had been in was, after all, nothing but a warm up. When he listened to the sounds of the battle going on now, he doubted that he had ever seen a real fight. It was almost funny to him. He and his friends had taken the enemy very seriously and imagined that they were deciding the war. They all thought they were going to be heroes, but the truth was that they would hardly be mentioned at all. Henry hurried forward, imagining all kinds of battle scenes. The vines and branches tried

to hold him back and block his way, but he got through it all. Soon he could see long gray walls of smoke. The sounds of the cannons shook him. He was shocked at the noise and stared in the direction of the fight. Finally Henry continued forward. The battle sounded like the grinding of a terrible machine. It was amazing to hear, but he would have to get closer to see it. He came to a road where a crowd of wounded men was walking slowly away from the battle. They were cursing, groaning, and crying. One of the men carried a shoe full of blood. He hopped like a schoolboy and laughed as if he was crazy. Another was singing in a high and shaky voice. Many of the men were angry. A few of them helped carry an officer who was yelling orders to the men closest to him. Henry joined this crowd and marched along with it. A tattered-looking man walked

quietly at his side. He was covered with dust and blood, and had gunpowder stains from his hair to his shoes. He was listening to a sergeant who was talking to him. After a time the tattered man moved closer to Henry and tried to talk. Henry saw that the man had two wounds, one in the arm and one in the head, which was bound with a blood- soaked rag. The tattered man's voice was gentle, and his eyes seemed to begging for something. "It was a pretty good fight, wasn't it?" he asked. Henry, deep in thought, glanced up at the bloody and grim figure. "What?" "A pretty good fight, wasn't it?" the man asked. "Yes," said Henry. He started walking faster, but the other man limped after him. "I've never seen men fight like that," the

tattered man said. "How they did fight! I knew our boys would be tough once they started fighting. I knew it would turn out this way. You can't beat our boys, no sir. They're fighters, that's for sure." He looked at Henry for encouragement several times, but Henry didn't respond. The tattered man kept talking. "I was talking across the line with a boy from Georgia, in the enemy army. He said we would run as soon as the gunfire started. I said we wouldn't do it. I said maybe his men would run and he laughed. Well, nobody ran today, did they? Everybody fought and fought and fought." His face had a look that was like love for the army. After a time, he asked Henry, "Where are you hit, my boy?" Henry felt an instant panic at this question. "What?" he asked. "Where are you hit?" the man asked again.

"Why," began Henry. "I—I—that is—why, I—" Suddenly he turned away and ran through the crowd. His face was red, and his fingers picked nervously at one of his buttons. He kept his head down and stared at the button as if there was a problem with it.