Active Service by Stephen Crane (reading tree .TXT) 📕

Measure. But When The Correspondent Raised

His Eyes He Saw The Captain Of The Battery Looking at Him,  His

Teeth Still Showing in a Smile,  As If His Information,  Whether True

Or False,  Had Been Given To Convince The Foreigner That The

Greeks Were A Very Superior And Brave People,  Notably One Little

Officer Of Artillery. He Had Apparently Assumed that Coleman

Would Balk From Venturing with Such A Force Upon An Excursion

To Trifle With The Rear Of A Hard Fighting ottoman Army. He

Exceedingly Disliked that Man,  Sitting up There On His Tall Horse

And Grinning like A Cruel Little  Ape With A Secret. In truth, 

Coleman Was Taken Back At The Outlook,  But He Could No More Refrain

From Instantly Accepting this Half-Concealed challenge Than He Could

Have Refrained from Resenting an Ordinary Form Of Insult. His Mind Was

Not At Peace,  But The Small Vanities Are Very Large. He Was Perfectly

Aware That He Was,  Being misled into The Thing by An Odd Pride,  But

Anyhow,  It Easily Might Turn Out To Be A Stroke Upon The Doors Of

Nikopolis. He Nodded and Smiled at The Officer In grateful

Acknowledgment Of His Service.

The Infantry Was Moving steadily A-Field. Black Blocks Of Men

Were Trailing in column Slowly Over The Plain. They Were Not

Unlike The Backs Of Dominoes On A Green Baize Table ; They Were

So Vivid,  So Startling. The Correspondent And His Servant

Followed them. Eventually They Overtook Two Companies In

Command Of A Captain,  Who Seemed immensely Glad To Have The

Strangers With Him. As They Marched,  The Captain Spoke Through

The Dragoman Upon The Virtues Of His Men,  Announcing with

Other News The Fact That His First Sergeant Was The Bravest Man In

The World.

A Number Of Columns Were Moving across The Plain Parallel To

Their Line Of March,  And The Whole Force Seemed to Have Orders

To Halt When They Reached a Long Ditch About Four Hundred yards

From Where The Shore Of The Plain Arose To The Luxuriant Groves

With The Cupola Of The Big White House Sticking above Them. The

Soldiers Lay Along The Ditch,  And The Bravest Man In the World

Spread His Blanket On The Ground For The Captain,  Coleman And

Himself. During a Long Pause Coleman Tried to Elucidate The Question

Of Why The Greek Soldiers Wore Heavy Overcoats,  Even In the Bitter

Heat Of Midday,  But He Could Only Learn That The Dews,  When They

Came,  Were Very Destructive To The Lungs,  Further,  He Convinced himself

Anew That Talking through An Interpreter To The Minds Of Other

Men Was As Satisfactory As Looking at Landscape Through A

Stained glass Window.

After A Time There Was,  In front,  A Stir Near Where A Curious

Hedge Of Dry Brambles Seemed to Outline Some Sort Of A Garden

Patch. Many Of The Soldiers Exclaimed and Raised their Guns. But

There Seemed to Come A General Understanding to The Line That It

Was Wrong To Fire. Then Presently Into The Open Came A Dirty

Brown Figure,  And Coleman Could See Through His Glasses That

Its Head Was Crowned with A Dirty Fez Which Had Once Been

White. This Indicated that The Figure Was That Of One Of The

Christian Peasants Of Epirus. Obedient To The Captain,  The

Sergeant Arose And Waved invitation. The Peasant Wavered,

Changed his Mind,  Was Obviously Terror-Stricken,  Regained

Confidence And Then Began To Advance Circuitously Toward

The Greek Lines. When He Arrived within Hailing dis- Tance,  The

Captain,  The Sergeant,  Coleman'S Dragoman And Many Of The

Soldiers Yelled human Messages,  And A Moment Later He Was

Seen To Be A Poor,  Yellow-Faced stripling with A Body Which

Seemed to Have Been First Twisted by An Ill-Birth And Afterward

Maimed by Either Labour Or Oppression,  These Being often

Identical In their Effects.

His Reception Of The Greek Soldiery Was No Less Fervid Than

Their Welcome Of Him To Their Protection. He Threw His Grimy Fez

In The Air And Croaked out Cheers,  While Tears Wet His Cheeks.

When He Had Come Upon The Right Side Of The Ditch He Ran

Capering among Them And The Captain,  The Sergeant,  The

Dragoman And A Number Of Soldiers Received wild Embraces And

Kisses. He Made A Dash At Coleman,  But Coleman Was Now Wary

In The Game,  And Retired dexterously Behind Different Groups

With A Finished appearance Of Not Noting that The Young Man

Wished to Greet Him.

Behind The Hedge Of Dry Brambles There Were More

Indications Of Life,  And The Peasant Stood Up And Made

Beseeching gestures. Soon A Whole Flock Of Miserable People

Had Come Out To The Greeks,  Men,  Women And Children,  In crude

And Comic Smocks,  Prancing here And There,  Uproariously

Embracing and Kissing their Deliverers. An Old,  Tearful,  Toothless

Hag Flung Herself Rapturously Into The Arms Of The Captain,  And

Coleman'S Brick-And-Iron Soul Was Moved to Admiration

At The Way In which The Officer Administered a Chaste Salute

Upon The Furrowed cheek. The Dragoman Told The

Correspondent That The Turks Had Run Away From The Village On

Up A Valley Toward Jannina. Everybody Was Proud And Happy.

A Major Of Infantry Came From The Rear At This Time And Asked

The Captain In sharp Tones Who Were The Two Strangers In

Civilian Attire. When The Captain Had Answered correctly The

Major Was Immediately Mollified,  And Had It Announced to The

Correspondent That His Battalion Was Going to Move

Immediately Into The Village,  And That He Would Be Delighted to

Have His Company.

The Major Strode At The Head Of His Men With The Group Of

Villagers Singing and Dancing about Him And Looking upon Him

As If He Were A God. Coleman And The Dragoman,  At The Officer'S

Request,  Marched one On Either Side Of Him,  And In this Manner

They Entered the Village. From All Sorts Of Hedges And Thickets,

People Came Creeping out To Pass Into A Delirium Of Joy. The

Major Borrowed three Little Pack Horses With Rope-Bridles,  And

Thus Mounted and Followed by The Clanking column,  They Rode

On In triumph.

It Was Probably More Of A True Festival Than Most Men

Experience Even In the Longest Life Time. The Major With His

Greek Instinct Of Drama Was A Splendid Personification Of Poetic

Quality; In fact He Was Himself Almost A Lyric. From Time To Time

He Glanced back At Coleman With Eyes Half Dimmed with Appreciation.

The People Gathered flowers,  Great Blossoms Of Purple And Corn Colour.

They Sprinkled them Over The Three Horsemen And Flung Them

Deliriously Under The Feet Of The Little Nags. Being now Mounted

Coleman Had No Difficulty In avoiding the Embraces Of The

Peasants,  But He Felt To The Tips Of His Toes An Abandonment To A

Kind Of Pleasure With Which He Was Not At All Familiar. Riding

Thus Amid Cries Of Thanksgiving addressed at Him Equally With

The Others,  He Felt A Burning virtue And Quite Lost His Old Self In

An Illusion Of Noble Be. Nignity. And There Continued the

Fragrant Hail Of Blossoms.

Miserable Little Huts Straggled along The Sides Of The Village

Street As If They Were Following at The Heels Of The Great White

House Of The Bey. The Column Proceeded northward,

Announcing laughingly To The Glad Villagers That They Would

Never See Another Turk. Before Them On The Road Was Here And

There A Fez From The Head Of A Fled turkish Soldier And They Lay

Like Drops Of Blood From Some Wounded leviathan. Ultimately It

Grew Cloudy. It Even Rained slightly. In the Misty Downfall The

Column Of Soldiers In blue Was Dim As If It Were Merely A Long

Trail Of Low-Hung Smoke.

They Came To The Ruins Of A Church And There The Major

Halted his Battalion. Coleman Worried at His Dragoman To

Learn If The Halt Was Only Temporary. It Was A Long Time Before

There Was Answer From The Major,  For He Had Drawn Up His Men In platoons

And Was Addressing them In a Speech As Interminable As Any That

Coleman Had Heard In greece. The Officer Waved his Arms And

Roared out Evidently The Glories Of Patriotism And Soldierly

Honour,  The Glories Of Their Ancient People,  And He May Have

Included any Subject In this Wonderful Speech,  For The Reason

That He Had Plenty Of Time In which To Do It. It Was Impossible To

Tell Whether The Oration Was A Good One Or Bad One,  Because The

Men Stood In their Loose Platoons Without Discernible Feelings

As If To Them This Appeared merely As One Of The Inevitable

Consequences Of A Campaign,  An Established rule Of Warfare.

Coleman Ate Black Bread And Chocolate Tablets While The

Dragoman Hovered near The Major With The Intention Of

Pouncing upon Him For Information As Soon As His Lungs Yielded

To The Strain Upon Them.

The Dragoman At Last Returned with A Very Long Verbal

Treatise From The Major,  Who Apparently Had Not Been As

Exhausted after His Speech To The Men As One Would Think. The

Major Had Said That He Had Been Ordered to Halt Here To Form A

Junction With Some Of The Troops Coming direct From Arta,  And

That He Expected that In the Morning the Army Would Be

Divided and One Wing would Chase The Retreating turks On

Toward Jannina,  While The Other Wing would Advance Upon

Prevasa Because The Enemy Had A Garrison There Which Had Not

Retreated an Inch,  And,  Although It Was

Cut Off,  It Was Necessary To Send Either A Force To Hold It In its

Place Or A Larger Force To Go Through With The Business Of

Capturing it. Else There Would Be Left In the Rear Of The Left Flank

Of A Greek Advance Upon Jannina A Body Of The Enemy Which At

Any Moment Might Become Active. The Major Said That His

Battalion Would Probably Form Part Of The Force To Advance

Upon Prevasa. Nikopolis Was On The Road To Prevasa And Only

Three Miles Away From It.

Coleman Spent A Long Afternoon In the Drizzle Enveloped in

His Macintosh He Sat On A Boulder In the Lee Of One Of The Old

Walls And Moodily Smoked cigars And Listened to The Ceaseless

Clatter Of Tongues. A Ray Of Light Penetrated the Mind Of The

Dragoman And He Laboured assiduously With Wet Fuel Until He

Had Accomplished a Tin Mug Of Coffee. Bits Of Cinder Floated in

It,  But Coleman Rejoiced and Was Kind To The Dragoman.

The Night Was Of Cruel Monotony. Afflicted by The Wind And

The Darkness,  The Correspondent Sat With Nerves Keyed high

Waiting to Hear The Pickets Open Fire On A Night Attack. He Was

So Unaccountably Sure That There Would Be A Tumult And Panic

Of This Kind At Some Time Of The Night That He Prevented himself

From Getting a Reasonable Amount Of Rest. He Could Hear The

Soldiers Breathing in sleep All About Him. He Wished to Arouse

Them From This Slumber Which,  To His Ignorance,  Seemed stupid.

The Quality Of Mysterious Menace In the Great Gloom And The

Silence Would Have Caused him To Pray If Prayer Would Have

Transported him Magically To New York And Made Him A Young

Man With No Coat Playing billiards At His Club.

The Chill Dawn Came At Last And With A Fine Elation Which Ever

Follows A Dismal Night In war; An Elation Which Bounds In the

Bosom As Soon As Day Has Knocked the Shackles From A

Trembling mind. Although Coleman Had Slept But A Short Time He

Was Now As Fresh As A Total Abstainer Coming from The Bath. He

Heard The Creak Of Battery Wheels; He Saw Crawling bodies Of

Infantry Moving in the Dim Light Like Ghostly Processions. He Felt

A Tremendous Virility Come With This New Hope In the Daylight.

He Again Took Satis. Faction In his Sentimental Journey. It Was A

Shining affair. He Was On Active Service,  An Active Service Of The

Heart,  And He' Felt That He Was A Strong Man Ready To Conquer

Difficulty Even As The Olden Heroes Conquered difficulty. He

Imagined himself In a Way Like Them. He,  Too,  Had Come Out To

Fight For Love With Giants,  Dragons And Witches. He Had Never

Known That He Could Be So Pleased with That Kind Of A Parallel.

The Dragoman Announced that The Major Had