19 On the Move

CHAPTER 19 On the Move This part of the world led a strange, battle- filled existence. The roar of gunfire could always be heard, and the cannons made a thudding sound in the fog. Henry's troop was ordered to take over for a troop that had been lying in some damp trenches for a long time. All around them were the sounds of fighting. The noise came from the woods ahead of them and to their left. The sounds to their right grew worse with each passing minute. It soon became impossible to hear anyone speak.

Henry wanted to make a joke, but no one would have heard him. At last, the guns stopped and the rumors began to fly among the men again. The men talked about other battles, disasters that had been lost. When the guns started up again, the men were unhappy and began to mutter. They made gestures that said "Ah, what more can we do?" They had heard stories that their army was losing the war. Before the fog cleared, the troop was marching carefully through the woods. Enemy men could sometimes be seen hurrying through the trees and little fields. They were yelling—excited and happy. At this sight, Henry became angry and yelled, "We're being controlled by a lot of lunkheads!" "More than one man has said that today," said one of his friends. Henry started to complain loudly about the

commander of their army, but Wilson stopped him. "Maybe it wasn't all his fault," said Wilson in a tired voice. "He did the best he could. It's our bad luck to get beaten by them." "Well, don't we fight like the devil?" Henry said loudly. "Don't we do all that men can?" He was secretly amazed that he had said this. For a moment he felt guilty, but no one questioned his right to speak this way and his courage returned soon enough. "Nobody would ever say we don't fight hard," said Wilson. "But still, we haven't had any luck." "Well, then, if we fight so well, it must be the general's fault," said Henry. "I don't see any sense in fighting all the time and always losing because of some lunkhead of a general." A man who was walking beside him said, "Maybe you think you fought the whole

army yesterday, Henry." At that, Henry was quiet. He was afraid that the others would ask him for more details of what had happened to him the previous day. He didn't want to draw any more attention to himself. The troops at last halted in a clear space. There were battle noises all around them. "We're always being chased around like rats," Henry grumbled. "Nobody knows where we go or why we go. We just get moved around. Now the enemy has had all the time to get ready for us, and we just arrived. Don't tell me, it's bad luck. I know better. It's this darn old—" Wilson interrupted him in a calm, confident voice. "It'll turn out all right in the end." The day had become brighter, and the sun shone its full brightness upon the forest. A single rifle flashed in the woods in front of

the troop. In less than a minute it was joined by many others. A mighty roar of clashes and crashes went sweeping through the woods. The battle noise became a rolling thunder filled with long explosions. The men in the troop waited. They were worn out. They had not slept much, and they had worked a lot. They looked at the approaching battle and waited for the shock. Some moved back a little, flinching at the sounds. The rest stood like men tied to posts.